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milfloveer · 1 year ago

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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.

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x fem!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill characters #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavil x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill x female reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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You Do Something To Me 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, manipulation, roughness, degredation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (modern)

Summary: you do your best to please a man with high standards.

Note: wasn't expecting this tbh.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The knock echoes through the house. You can't help the shiver as you peer over your shoulder. You know there's nothing there but those old antique halls always put you on edge. Or maybe it's him.

No, you love your husband. That's not it. He can just be very intense. That's all.

You wait. No answer comes. That's as usual as the silence throughout this old house. You tap once more and upon a second lull, let yourself in.

You don't say a word as Sherlock's eyes stay on the folder clutched in his large hands. He looks like a man out of time. He always dresses proper. You gently place the tray on his desk.

You pour him a cup and carefully add milk. The dairy plumes in the deep red tea and you place the saucer and cup by his elbow.

"You've interrupted," he says without looking up.

"You wanted tea and I did not want it to go cold," you touch his shoulder gently. He rumbles.

"Wise woman," he muses and sits back, his attention still on the page. He hooks a single finger through cup handle and lifts it. He hums. "The only who ever does my tea right."

Loose leaf. That's the trick. Your ratio is precise. Just as he likes all things.

"Let me not disturb you further," you appease and back up.

He huffs and drops the paper, then clinks down the porcelain.

"I wouldn't complain," he leans back in his leather chair. He smirks.

"Oh, and now he demands dessert with his tea," you shake your head.

He tilts his head, "I demand my wife."

A chill runs up your body. When he puts that voice on, your chest goes hollow and you feel all shaky. You can't deny that voice.

"Yes, husband," you come closer.

He runs his hand up your satin skirt and examines the seam. There's a stitch that's bunched. He never misses the detail. He clucks.

"This skirt is ruined," he tugs, "you will take it off at once."

It would be thrilling if you didn't know beneath it all that he's serious. He does not like inconsistencies. You suppose it is the reason he chose to be a detective. That and he's very skilled at untangling mysteries. As talented at seeing through deception.

You reach behind you and unzip the skirt. It slackens and you let it go. It pools at your feet and your legs speckle with goosebumps. These vintage houses are hard to keep warm. He has the thermostat as well to keep from waste.

"Come here," he urges as he spreads his shoulders wide.

He grips the arms of the chair as you approach. You stop to strip off your panties. His chest rises and falls slowly as he sits patiently. You know what to do and it's better you don't make him tell you.

He's already hard, you can see him in his pants. You undo his fly and pull him out. He growls and holds the air in his chest. You turn and reach between your legs to line him up.

You press him against your folds and rub his tip against you. You try to focus and ready yourself for him. You take him inch by inch, urging yourself through the stretch. As you settle on his lap, he sighs.

"Mm, honey," he purrs.

You go to tilt and he grabs your hip, his other hand on your stomach.

"No, you will wait," he girds and reaches to the desk. He retrieves the paper. "When I've finished my work, you may finish yours."

You wiggle in his lap. He groans and pinches your thigh. You still and lean back, certain to keep out of his way.

He pets your head with his free hand as he reads. Little hums escape him. You feel him twitching inside you. He sets down the paper once more.

"My tea, honey."

You lean forward and quiver at the friction in your walls. You take his tea and give it to him. He drinks deeply and hands it back. You put it down and he frames your hips.

"Perhaps I might think better if I destress," he guides you up his length and you moan.

You place your hands over his as he moves you in his lap. You arch your back and follow his rhythm. You slip your hand down your pelvis and twirl around your clit. He grunts as he keeps the pace slow and deliberate.

"Mm, I've needed this," he growls. "Mm, yes, my wife, how you serve me so well."

You flick your fingers and tremble, your walls clenching as you get close to release. You reach back and clasp onto his thick side as you cum. As you spasm, he quickens your motion. You mewl through your climax as your head lolls.

In a moment, he's up. He has you over the desk. Your hips slam into the edge as he bends over you and grips the far side. He rams into you, each thrust long but sharp. He pulls back only to slam so hard the wood sends a pang through your pelvis. You whimper as the contents of his desk wobble and pens fall of their stand.

"You did this on purpose, yes? You interrupted my work for this?" He gropes your ass, his pelvis slapping the back of his hand as he ruts. "My wife, the whore."

He grabs the back of your neck and pinches until you squeal. You gnaw on your lip and hiss through your nose. That side of him is only yours. That deep, dark, feral side. He only lets you see it. It scares you but it feels special. It's just between you two.

"Yes, husband," you reach back and touch his pants as he pounds your hips into the desk. "I wanted this all along--"

You grit your teeth and your back racks. You measure your breaths as he puffs like a wild animal. His nails dig into your skin and your thighs tingle.

"I know it. You want it," he snarls. "You need it."

#sherlock holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #enola holmes #series #drabble #you do something to me #au

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that1geek06 · 6 months ago

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Me scrolling thru tags:

I just want a good fluff story 😔

Also me one hour into a deeply plotted smut that has an even dirtier part two:

YES!! GIVE ME MORE!! 😩😈

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hirschkuh-traumvoll · 1 month ago

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Like in your fav movie

the plot is: chralie's planning a movie night for everyone to participate, but you know her films are not much for your and your friend's taste, so you find a good old film and suggest alastor watching it together

words ≈ 5.6k

warnings: alastor has a favourite kiss scene in a movie... not like he likes this movie just because of the scene, but he just finds this kiss scene beautiful because i do so; also, gifs from the silent movie would appear in the text, don't be disturbed by them

author's note: this had been in my drafts for months, like for six-seven months!! because i easily jump from one project to another, but i'm glad i've finally finished it ^^

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You and Angel entered a video rental store in a search for a movie for tonight. The films Charlie kept came to an end, and none of you wanted to rewatch these toothroting romantic movies and children musicals. Some of you wanted something really entertaining. So Angel and you volunteered to find tapes that would please everyone and at the same time wouldn't violate the rules drawn up by Charlie. At least not all of them. It wasn't easy, but at least going on this mission you freed yourself from her trust building exercises. And this was a huge plus.

Entering the shop you decided to split up, pick out a few tapes that suited the majority's taste, and then discuss together which of these you should take.

You went to the detective section and Angel to the fantasy. Horrors, actions, thrillers and all the similar was out of your list, as it simply went against Charlie's rules, god damn them, why couldn't you even watch a good horror movie in the hotel situated in hell? Did it really interfere with redemption?

But you shook your head. She tried her best for you all, after all. And moreover the lights in the horror section suspiciously flickered now and then… Better stay away from that part of the shop.

The detective part seemed quite boring, though the bright covers with abstruse names dazzled in front of your eyes, persuading you to buy them. You took only two tapes that seemed suitable and moved to the other section when suddenly something caught your eye, making you stop abruptly. You turned your head to the shelves on your right and saw a familiar white and black face without even a hint of a smile. And this film was in the comedy section. The man in the image was holding a book in one hand and a magnifier in the other one. Fake mustache was on his pale face, and a flat hat was on the top of his head.

Your eyes widened in a growing surprise as you pronounced “no way” with a smile curving your lips, and your hand reached to the tape.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Angel stood in front of you with several tapes in each of his hands, pressing them to his fluffy chest. One tape seemed to stick out right from his fur. Even in his extra section of arms he held at least five tapes in his large palms. And you stood in front of him with just a single film.

“The fuck, babe?”

“I see you've done a great job, Angel! Let's go to the cash desk!” You answered cheerfully, ignoring his frown.

“Wait, hold on!” He wanted to grab your hand, but realised it was impossible for him, so he just stepped out in front of you, bending his waist, not losing a single tape, even the one in his fur, which now was staring right at you. You took a step back, mentally preparing to defend yourself from his sarcasm. He knew what a nerd you were with your strange passion for everything old, including silent movies.

Angel tilted his head, reading the name of the tape you squeezed in your palm.

“1924..? A silent comedy?! Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!”

“You don't understand, Angel, it's a very important film.” You said grandly, but your friend only rolled his eyes, as if he knew why exactly you chose this tape among all the modern movies and even hell made ones. “I know what you're thinking about, Angel,” He looked down grumpy at you, “but I assure you, that I came to love silent pictures long before I met Alastor. I loved them even when I was alive. Frankly, a part of me wanted to become a director, so much I loved cinematography, but, unfortunately, I died.”

Maybe not even unfortunately, you thought. In hell you met people you would die for, so partly you were glad you were dead.

Angel's eyes went from the tape in your hands to your face and back. His expression relaxed, but he was still frowned a bit,

“Eh, do you really think somebody’s gonna watch it? Cuz’ I’m out.”

You came up to the cash register, and handed the precious tape to a cashier, whilst Angel dumped all that he was holding in hands at the desk, making quite a heap of films of various genres. Your eyes quickly ran through the names on the covers and recognised most of them. Your cinematography knowledge was indeed deep and sound. You mentioned that most of the selected films actually met the princess’s requirements (though they were not so ‘harmless’ as Charlie's ones), but, not without a surprise, you observed that some pictures could literally drive Charlie mad if she'd find them.

“I fully trust your taste, Angel.” You answered, paying for the tape and taking a breath to say something that caused a little blush on your cheeks. “But this one tape is just for me and… Alastor.” You confessed with a little hesitation.

“Ohh! So it's a movie date then, huh?” Angel grinded cheeky, propping himself against the cash desk, eyeing at you.

“Don't say so.” Frowning, you tapped your fingers against the tape, imagining Alastor's face when you would suggest watching this film together. You couldn't deny you imagined his polite smile turning into a genuine one, a warmer and softer smile, how he calls you with a precious pet name ‘cher’ rolling from his tongue so sweetly as his eyelids droop slightly as every time you say something pleasant to him. And what could be more pleasurable than an offer to watch a classic comedy together? Especially when it was filmed by a director you both liked?

“Well, I hope.” You admitted. After all it wasn't a secret for Angel that you felt something for the deer man. You never really tried to hide your little crush on the Radio Demon. But you were a little scared of the thought that one day the rest of the crew and then he himself would find out what actually Alastor was to you. So you were very nervous when recently Charlie mentioned how your expression changed every time Alastor entered the room, how a smile on your face was impossible to wipe off, how your eyes never left Alastor, how you leaned closer to him when he was speaking. She was speaking with an understanding smile and even winked at you when you tried to deny.

If she noticed it, could he?

But when you decided to play a cold blooded towards him you appeared close to having your heart melted. It was fruitless to try to escape your feelings for they only grew stronger, wrapping their roots firmly around your tortured heart.

“Ha! I knew you have a crush on Tall Dark And Creepy!” Angel laughed, and, though you were slightly embarrassed, you couldn't help smile back at him — his laughter was too infectious. Even the cashier could hardly suppress a smile.

Angel put his hand on your shoulder and said with a bright smile,

“I’ll make sure Charlie picks the loooongest movie, so nobody will bother you, sugar.” He winked at you, spreading red across your cheeks. Then Angel lowered his gaze to the tape you twisted in your hands. “Hm. Tell me, babe, how long is this?”

You looked up, trying to remember,

“Hmm, about forty minutes?”

“What!?”

“What do you want? It's an old thing.” You waved the tape.

“Pff! This is not an excuse!” He crossed his arms, and you wanted to clarify to him the whole complicated process of filming a movie in the early 20s, and especially this comedy, shot on two films at once for better sales abroad, but Angel hushed you with his forefinger in front of your nose. “Don't you dare explain to me about film shooting again, toots.”

And only when he saw reconciliation in your eyes he continued, combing his white hair back with his gloved hand,

“Okay, that's not so bad. There are still a lot of hot things you can do in forty minutes, especially when you're so foxy. The longest shit I have is about three hours, so even when you, guys, finish you’ll still have about two hours in your pocket.” Angel widely smiled at you, being proud that he’d just organized you a potential date.

But you actually weren't so sure. Alastor was a busy man, it would be a great luck if he’d agree to join you tonight and wouldn’t leave right away as the movie ended.

“Angel, I-”

“No need to thank me, babe.” Angel gave the cashier banknotes, leaning forward to him and moving his hips to the side with grace blended with seduction. He turned to you again. “I'm always glad to help my friends with movies.”

You didn't know why it sounded suggestively, maybe Angel could make everything sound suggestively. You nodded and thanked him, but still thought that his conception of a movie date differed from yours. All you really wanted was to watch a movie that you and your friend/beloved enjoyed. But you really worried about the extra two hours. If Alastor was free tonight and when the others would be watching an Angel's movie, you would be left alone with Alastor… For two hours. The thought made you feel nervous because of excitement blended with fear that Alastor always made you feel: when he cast a look at you, when he placed his hand on your shoulder, when he praised your knowledge, or when he just emerged in your thoughts. And even now, when he didn't even know what you were about to offer him, just a thought of his smile and glowing eyes made your palms perspire and goosebumps ran down your spine.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

When you entered the hotel and looked around the lobby and the bar, Angel whistled above you,

“Hey, look who's up there!”

When you looked up you saw Alastor taking a view of the hotel's lobby from the balcony. He held his hands behind his back, gripping his microphone, and stuck his chest out. But despite the proud look his gaze seemed empty, as if his thoughts were far from this place.

You felt a gaze on you and turned to Angel, who playfully raised his brows at you, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Go to Charlie, and I…” The shyness occupied you suddenly, making it hard for you to say aloud the name of your crush. Why did it take you so much strength to pronounce the name of your beloved, especially when he was in the same room? Your cheeks blushed brightly as your eyes landed on the man you loved — he met your eyes and flashed you a smile.

“I'm going!” You exclaimed, throwing a paper bag with the new tapes into Angel's hands, and headed for the stairs.

“Break a leg, honey!” You heard behind your back and rolled your eyes, but smiled.

Alastor was about to go but noticing you entering the lobby he remained standing at the railing. So, you came back from shopping with your friend porn star. Wonderful. Now you waved him with your hand, catching his attention, though he was following your figure with his eyes as you were coming upstairs, and he responded to you with a tilt of his head.

You came up to him, keeping one hand behind your back, your left hand tucked your hair behind your ear as you stopped in front of him.

“Hi!” You greeted him. The blush Alastor saw on your cheeks dispelled all his thoughts. Your earthy beauty — so rare in hell and because of this even more precious — was pure and natural, and he couldn't help fixing his gaze on you each time you appeared before his eyes as a dreamy apparition. Just a view of you ignited his chest with warmth. And though just two minutes ago he felt resentment and even jealousy (he hated the fact that he wasn't there when Charlie was choosing who to send shopping, and it ended up with you and Angel going together), now he forgot, or almost forgot, his umbrage. Your smile wasn't so wide, your eyes didn't sparkle so bright, and you didn't tug nervously at the edge of your shirt when you were speaking with anyone but Alastor. And it meant something.

“Good evening, my dear! How was your shopping?” The last word was pronounced sharply, perfectly matching the flash of his fangs in the thin smile, and you, somehow, had to lower your gaze to escape the embarrassment. He looked too damn handsome with his lowered crimson eyelids and this dangerous grin, even when he was obviously irritated for some reason. Although you guessed why he was angry and knew it was fruitless to dispel his emotions with words — Alastor always appreciated actions.

“Weeell,” You drawled and handed him the tape from behind your back. It wasn't taken from your hand right away as you expected, so you looked up at him, seeing him observing the film with the narrowed eyes.

“Ooh,” Alastor's eyes gleamed when he read the title, “Oh my! The Great Stone Face himself!”

His fingertips slightly brushed yours as he took the tape from your hands and looked over it from every side. Looking at the front cover, he titled his head as if remembering something. A melancholic smile spread across his face and, slightly parting your lips in anticipation, you prepared to hear another old story of his past life. You loved his stories, Alastor was a great storyteller, no wonder he chose radio his career. With his smooth voice, perfect articulation and intonation, rich vocabulary he could make any story riveting. When you were in low spirits it was enough of him to tell you an anecdote to make the tears disappear from your eyes. Or when you wanted to hear a scary story Alastor gladly dedicated you to the details of his killings, which made your blood run cold but also brought a strange thrill to your heart. But most of all you liked when he reminisced about his earth life. That melancholic glitter in his eyes, sad smile, and low voice. He didn't share these memories with many people, and there was something intimate in the way he looked in your eyes, telling you about his good old days that he, despite all his pride and vanity, missed. And Alastor liked to share his memories with you. To see this light in your eyes and this genuine smile of yours. What could be more lovely in hell?

“You know, my dear, I once met him.”

“What?!” You exclaimed in amusement.

“Well, yes, my dear!” He nodded as if confirming his words and lowered his gaze, drifting somewhere in his memories, ready to put in language hir recollection. “It happened just once but I remember this day rather clearly.

“It was an evening party at the house of an acquaintance of mine, who, however, was a goner!” Alastor chuckled darkly, but there was nothing new for you that often his acquaintance became his victims. “But he knew how to throw a party. But none of the evenings he hosted wouldn’t be as charming without the people he invited. The man simply didn’t have a talent for entertaining, luckily, he had his guests. And on that evening Keaton was the life of the party.

“You know, darling, what impressed me the most? The smile and hearty laughter of this genius of comedy. It's not a secret he had been hiding this side of him from the whole world, for his whole life, but when it was only him and people around him, and no cameras, he laughed so infectiously nobody could help joining him!” And as if remembering that laugh, Alastor quietly chuckled himself.

“And what splendid headlines were on the next morning! Of course I was famous not only for my radio broadcast, dear. My ever present and, I mention it not without pride, charming smile was a subject matter of pressmen as well as the Buster's deadpan. So the picture of us on the front page caused a sensation!”

“Unbelievable,” You pronounced without taking your eyes from his face, “How many celebrities did you know?”

“Quite a few,” He answered abruptly, “But that's not the reason you showed me this cassette, isn't it?” He arched one brow glancing down at you and handing you back the tape.

“Oh, yeah!”

Now was the most difficult part: to pretend you were suggesting a movie night together as friends, and don't let the blush spread all over your face.

“How about we watch it together? Tonight?”

Your suggestion was delightful! Alastor as a matter of fact planned to invite you someday to the only traditional cinema theatre in hell which was located in the Cannibal Town, and where only the silent pictures were running. But now you were inviting him. Well, he guessed, it might be this new modern fashion of youth when a girl invites a man, but Alastor was more than just glad to hear your invitation. But the next time he wouldn't let you take the advantage of being first. Now he couldn't help teasing you a little bit, so you wouldn’t be too proud of your bravery.

“Shouldn't we watch whatever movie Charlie chooses to watch together?” Alastor asked with a mischievous smile and a head tilt.

“Yeaahh, right, but. I think we won't like whatever she will choose, but this one,” And you shook the tape in your hand, “is for our taste. Only.”

“Hmm,” He smiled like a cat, satisfied with its trick, slyly and pleasingly, and then exclaimed, throwing his hand, “Well, as you wish, my dear!”

You were ready to jump up with joy, but stopped as Alastor continued, “But we are _not_ going to watch this masterpiece of comedy through this annoying and horrible television technology, are we?”

“I'm afraid we don't have any other choice…”

“Nonsense, darling!” He waved his hand, making everything disappear in green flashes and dark shadows.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You found yourself in the darkness diluted with purple and green spots, and when you got used to the dim light you understood you appeared in a small concert hall of the hotel. Only a few scones and lights on the stage floor illuminated the room with dark red walls, which seemed to absorb their yellowish light just as the black ceiling, so there was not much use in the lighting. As you looked around you understood an oddity — you stood in the center of the concert hall and there were no seats around.

You heard such a familiar static noise becoming louder, and palm with long black fingers lay on your shoulder as though to guide you, and it traced down to link with your arm. Looking up you met the rose red gaze shining even brighter than the scones on the walls.

“Come on, darling.” Alastor led you to a loveseat, which silhouette emerged now from the darkness. The place was absolutely different without furniture and being sunk in velvet darkness. It seemed like the dusk imbibed each sound which was louder than the rustle of your clothes, but each step against the carpeted floor split it, leading you and your friend to the only seat in the room. Approaching it, you noticed that at the piano in the corner of the stage was sitting one of Alastor's ink-servants. The black-and-white imp in a little top hat kept his arms on the keys ready to start to play in any second. Looking higher you saw a huge white screen, hanging down instead of the closed curtains. No, not a screen, a sheet or another light piece of cloth.

Alastor's hand moved to your palm when you were taking a seat on a soft cloud sofa, and you looked around once again. Not only was the lack of furniture odd, the darkness seemed too deep and this silence felt actually velvet, wrapping your ears like rich fabric and comforting you.

But Alastor's solemn tone lay as a new dab on the blackness, painting it with exciting red.

“Now, isn't it a wonderful atmosphere, my dear?” All this time Alastor didn't take his eyes from you, watching your reaction, and he was satisfied, because there was genuine delight in your eyes. His microphone conjured away as he sat next to you with his legs crossed and placed one hand on his knee and another one behind you on the back of the loveseat.

“Absolutely.” You gave him a smile.

“Shall we start the performance, then?” He asked, leaning to you and seeing your nod he snapped his fingers. Right away a bright white beam of a projector pierced through the darkness, placing a black square with the greyish ghostly letters of the title and actors’ names on the white sheet, and at once the ink imp started its tapeur work with a loud, major chord.

As an old proverb, some kind of a prologue for the comedy, appeared on the screen you leaned to Alastor.

Don't try to do two things

at once and expect to do

justice to both.

Well, just as the main character of the picture you ignored the advice of ancestry, but if the young man on the screen was studying the science of being a detective whilst working as a cinema operator, you were on your mission by living through a date without giving a hint that it was a date.

But something, a chance or maybe someone, determined to destroy this facade.

When you moved to Alastor your knee accidently touched his, but even this innocent little hit was enough to make his heart flutter. Alastor knew, you made him too weak, and what was the most scandalous, you were able to do such things to him right from your first day in the hotel, since your first look at him, since your first shy smile and a greeting. It took you disgracefully a little to settle down in every corner of his mind. But never did Alastor feel sorry for this. The way you always excited and thrilled him was so pleasurable. He would be a fool to try to oppose such poisonously sweet torture. And how adorable it was to watch the same reaction from you, especially because of the fact you couldn't keep the same control of your emotions as he could, letting yourself stutter and blush so easily everytime he approached.

So to collect more of such reactions from you and to make his own heart tremble Alastor tilted his head to your side, as if ready to rest on your shoulder, and his hand found your wrist to brush it. A sigh escaped your lips, eyes were fixed to the screen too afraid to see what expression he had and to know if he captured your wrist on purpose or was it a pensive gesture without grounds. But hesitatingly your fingers embraced his, then his thumb approvingly caressed your palm, and you finally intertwined your fingers with his. Alastor gladly hummed, eyeing at you, but you were too concentrated on the movie or you pretended that you did. Anyway you were not about to look at him for Satan's sake, so he could feast his eyes on you, who became even more beautiful with your eyes narrowed in a joyful smile because of another amazing gag of the comedian. But what made you the most charming in all hell was the fact your hand was in Alastor's and you kept him as firmly as he kept you.

There was a special intimacy in watching a movie together. In a way you shared a surprise at the same scenes, how you squeezed each other's hands at the instants of tension, how you laughed at the same gags and witty intertitles. You were not enjoying just yourself or the picture on the screen, it was a delight of being together and sharing one passion for two.

But nothing lasts forever, and the most pleasurable moments feel the shortest. And you knew the film was coming to its end — the main character woke up in his projectionist's booth just to realize that all his feats for his beloved girl were merely a dream. You sighted at the view of the pale face staring at you from the small window of his booth. His sad eyes were full of shreds of his unfulfilled dreams, and he turned away from the camera in a shame of being so touched with illusions of his unrealized love. Your time alone with Alastor was running out as inexorably as the film in the projector, and now you shared the melancholy of the character, not the excitement of your unfulfilled lover who was humming a cheerful tune under his breath. But you didn't see him nervously rocking his foot side to side.

But there a love interest of the protagonist rushed into his room, you knew what was about to happen, and your heart skipped a beat as Alastor whispered closely to your ear,

“And that, my dear, despite my fussy taste, as some might say, is my favourite kiss scene in the whole cinematography.”

Your cheeks burnt when the protagonist, following the movements of the man in the film he was watching from his post, took the hands of his beloved, and felt how Alastor took your hands in his. Now The Stone Face eyed at the screen — at you! — to understand how to flirt with the girl further, and you knew Alastor cast a look at the silent actor as well, checking the timing. His palms warmed yours and you were glad he held them tightly because you had no doubt you were shaking as a leaf in the wind because of the thrill of your emotions.

And what did the protagonist of the protagonist's movie do? He kissed the hands of his beloved woman, and so did his disciple. You guessed what could follow in your movie, in your life, and you didn't know when the fear and excitement had mixed together, giving birth to a new feeling wrenching your guts to numbing, until all you felt was your frantically beating heart.

“Cher?” Alastor murmured, drawing your hands to him and leaning down. You couldn't look at him, it was better to follow the actions in the film than to believe that your dream was coming true. But you heard very well the sound of a kiss to your knuckles and then the rustle of Alastor's clothes as he leaned to your neck, tracing with his nose a light path to your ear to place a modest peck onto your flushing cheek.

But when the character cast unequivocal, intensive and long look at the girl, and carefully captured her face in his palms, and leaned in to give her a kiss as passionate one as in the movie he'd just seen, he quickly pecked her like an innocent boy kissing his first love, and let go of her right away, to peer his gaze into the screen again to have another hint. And if this character, who so shamelessly broke the fourth wall again and again, if this very character could indeed see what was happening by that side of the screen, he could witness a scene of someone overcoming their shyness and following the mute movements of their beloved.

But you didn't have a chance to see the kiss scene in the film. Alastor softly took you by your chin, gently drawing your face to him. He was already so close that you shared one sigh for two, and all you had to do was to slightly tilt your head back and let his lips meet yours.

Oh, the famous Pale Face would, for sure, turn into the Blushed Face if he would witness the tenderness of this kiss through the broken fourth wall.

Alastor's lips gently travelled over yours, pressing one feather kiss by another and another one, until you responded to him, slightly bending back and pressing your lips to his as your hands found his broad shoulders. His lips were cotton soft as he brushed them against yours in shy kisses remembering gentle little bites, which sent shivers up and down your spine and made your palms deliriously wander over his shoulders, chest and neck. You felt him smiling all the time, and you couldn't help but playfully catch his lower lip as he put another kiss on you and slightly pull him to you. He growled in low and the sound seemed to come from down of his stomach up to his throat. Hearing the groan you wanted to retract but the palm that appeared on the nape of your neck kept you in one place, whilst his fingertips drew the circles on your chin.

“Do you like this scene as I do, dear?” He whispered slightly leaning back, each word he pronounced made his lips brush against yours.

You opened your eyes and met your own reflection in his dilated pupils finged with rose-red light of his irises. His look was intensive but not lustful; he looked deeply into your eyes, and the entreaty shining through his gaze slowly changed into a command for you, and he didn't even have to use words to make you give in to him again. So you leaned in, parting your lips and sealing a stronger kiss against his smile, when suddenly your ears caught a change in the background music. It seemed the rhythm of your heart was equal to the fragile serene sound of the piano, but then Alastor tilted his head to deepen the kiss and twirled his fingers in your hair, making you flutter, and as his chest pressed to yours you realised your hearts were beating in unison. And the piano melody faded away. The velvet silence wrapped you both again, and again it was disturbed, and this time with the sound of slight moaning during kissing, crackling of static, which became louder every time your fingers touched the nape of his neck, and there was also rustling of the film now coming to the end. The black silence was broken with the sound of love, gentle and devoted.

“Mmm…” The static popped out through his low moan as your tongue brushed against his. You couldn't hide your sounds, too, and they seemed to make Alastor more heated. As your high and helpless moan fell in his mouth, he stole air from your lungs, wrapping his arms tighter around you and delving deeper, sliding the tip of his tongue against your palate, making you quiver in his embrace even more.

He parted his lips from you and cascaded kisses on your neck, and, oh dear, how sweet you were. Just as he expected, even better! So intoxicated and sweet. How long had he been dreaming of tasting this delicate, soft neck of yours? For too long. So now he was savouring each long kiss onto you with no rush, knowing you were now his favourite course he would never refuse and would never have enough. He lightly clutched your soft skin between his teeth, growling at your taste as he moved his tongue along your sensitive spot, and making you even tastier with his name rolling from your tongue.

“Al… Alastor…” You weakly whispered, stroking down his chest. The air in the room felt too hot to inhale, but you were already out of breath, and every caress of Alastor warmed you even more. You simply melted as sugar in his flame embrace, just a few more loud kisses under your ear and you would liquefy into caramel he would consume.

But luckily for you he traced higher, freeing your weak spot and placing a kiss to your temple, the corner of your eyes, several pecks down your cheek to your jaw, and then your lips again, in a final smooth and deep kiss. He heated the fire down, by now you were in very right condition — showing your love without shyness due to his incentive, and by that, influencing him to give you more, so you both could revel in sharing happiness. But the unhurried tempo he had chosen aroused within him something he didn't want to interfere with. Not now. It was too early.

So slowly his kiss became chaster, though his arms never lightened their grasp around you as a silent promise to never be satisfied. Gently your lips were parted, and you pressed your foreheads to each other. Silence was still a warm blanket over you. You dared to look up at Alastor — he was smiling, but not as usual, it was a soft, loving smile. He had a little blush on his cheeks as well, so adorable. And he admired you with the same intensity as you did.

A smile spread on your face as you slightly leaned back. What he did now was divine.

“There was no unwind in your times, right?” You asked with a playful tone, and he immediately caught your hint,

“Of course no, dear!” He answered with theatrical sadness, lowering his head just to quickly lift his gaze up back to you and say in low with half lidded eyes, casting passion at you, “But I could invent one for you.”

His hands on your waist harshly pulled you closer to him and you fell on his chest. He lifted your chin with the tip of his claw and crushed a kiss of a different nature on your lips, in a new, ardent fashion with unambiguous intention to make a whole movie now instead of just a scene.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

taglist: @milkissesx @moonluna07 feel free to ask to be removed or added

p.s. i made these gifs myself and i had to reduce their quality over and over again because they were too heavy for tumblr and now they look... bad 🥹 but let's say it's an ✨ old silent movie esthetic✨

#gigling like a crazy girl finally combining my two obsessions and putting them in one fic #the movie is Sherlock Jr #directed by buster keaton who was also the leading actor (and the boy you see in the gif)#hirschkuh's works #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel fluff

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frost-queen · 14 days ago

Text

The search is afoot (Reader!Bridgerton x Sherlock Holmes)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @sweetheartlizzie07, @aardvarks-and-bats

Your curiosity sparked when your sister entered the drawing room. Posture slightly bend, head turning from side to side. Clearly in search for anything. You slammed the novel shut you were boringly reading. Tossing it aside on the sofa between you and Anthony. Hopping up to meet your sister half-way.

“Looking for something?” – you asked. Eloise hummed soft. Bending down to catch a glimpse underneath the sofa’s. You moved aside when she came nearly pushing you over. Agitated she kept searching in silence. To Anthony’s annoyance. – “Just communicate.” – he spoke with a sigh.

Eloise’s posture straightened. Her hands settling with a shove at her side. – “I seemed to have lost my notebook.” – she admitted in a frustrated tone. – “The blue one with some pencil markings on it?” – you questioned curiously. Your sister humming loud.

You clasped your hands together in delight. Eyes twinkling in delight. You then cleared your throat, moving your hands to your back. – “Where did you last saw it?” – you asked, tapping a finger thoughtfully against your chin. – “Between what hours was it? Was anything out of the ordinary?” – you continued asking, circling around her. Eloise gaped confusingly back at you.

“No.” – Anthony called out, getting up as well. He came running over to you, grabbing you by your elbows. – “We are not doing this, Y/n.” – he let know. – “But…” – you responded when he started shoving you away from Eloise. – “This is a serious matter. It needs investigating.” – finishing to proclaim your intentions. Anthony sighed loud. – “You are not a detective Y/n!” – making clear. – “But…” – you repeated being shoved towards the door.

Anthony shoved you outside, holding the door frames with both his hands. You huffed annoyed at his behaviour. – “Get your head out of the clouds.” – were his final words before shutting the door in front of you. The sudden shut, startled you. Puffing annoyed, you crossed your arms. Turning away to mope. Colin crossing the hall, caught a glimpse of you. Making him pause in this stride. – “You alright, sister?” – he questioned, coming over.

With a distress sigh, you untangled your arms. – “Anthony is being mean to me again.” – you called out. – “How so?” – Colin furrowing his brows. Approaching as he rustled his fingers through your hair. You took a deep breath. – “Eloise has lost her notebook and I simply wanted to help look for it.” – you explained. Colin letting out a long ‘aah’ as he understood. – “You’ve been playing detective again haven’t you?” – he replied.

“I just wanted to help and he tossed me out!” – you dramatically called out for it being the worst. Colin only chuckled, patting his hand on your shoulder. – “I know I shouldn’t say this, but you should read less… specially those mystery novels. Look how filled your head is with it.” – he spoke, making you shove his hand annoyed away. – “You just don’t understand me.” – raising your voice to him.

With force, you let your shoulder bump into his to shove him out of the way. –“ Y/n, I!” – Colin called out. Sighing afterwards as it was no use. You stomped angrily up the stairs. Not caring if you were being too loud. Crossing the upper floors, you paused near Eloise’s room. Humming curiously before entering. Door still open as you look around. – “Where would one misplace a notebook.” – you mumbled to yourself.

Getting on your knees, you looked underneath her bed. Going through her drawers and searching in every nook and cranny. Your searching brought some noise along, drawing the attention of your youngest brother Gregory. He walked past, furrowed his brows and simply walked backwards. Staring confused back at you.

“What are you doing?” – he questioned. – “Searching.” – you replied, ignoring him half to keep your attention on your search. – “Mother!” – Gregory then shouted loud into the hallway. – “Y/n is playing detective again!” – he finished making you widen your eyes. Dropping everything to rush over to him with a shushing tone. Covering up his mouth with your hand.

“Quiet, Gregs.” – you let out with a hard stare. Gregory wiggled his head free, trying to shout for mother again. – “Mo… mother!” – he repeated making you struggle to keep his mouth shut. – “Stop it!” – stomping your foot on the ground. Gregory kept shouting against your hand with muffled sounds.

Groaning loud, you decided to take a run for it. Picking up the hem of your skirt, rushing towards the stairs. Huffing and puffing loud at the dismay of your family. Dismay for recognizing your talents. To not let you go with your admirations and interests. Claiming it to be foolish and absurd. For no lady could become a detective or should concern themselves with mysteries.

Anthony blamed it on the novels you had been reading. Colin blaming in on the Holmes’s. Close friends to the family. For the Holmes’s had an interest in solving mysteries as well. You ran for the door, leaving the household. Needing to have an escape from your siblings taunting. You hated their mocking. For not taking you serious on that matter. Going straight for the streets. Running away a couple of streets away till you slowed down. Sure that none of your siblings would pursuit.

Catching your breath, you enjoyed a nice walk. Clearing your head and getting rid of the annoyance lingering inside of towards your brothers. You loved them dearly, but hated that they didn’t took your interest serious. Calling it un-lady-like. A waste of time. Idle hobby’s to skip lessons. All calling it such things to make you lose interest in it. Looking around, you narrowed your eyes slightly.

Trying to read people like so many detectives did in your novels. Trying to read their stories off their faces and gestures. Moving closer to a vender, you tried to understand snippets of his life. Taking a keen eye of his hands. Seeing how rough they were. Calluses on his knuckles. Then your gaze went further up, meeting up with a pair of angry eyes. The vender cleared this throat loud at you for staring. Changing your expression, you pulled up a humble smile. Apologizing.

Moving a bit away, you recognized some voices. Turning round you saw Enola and her brother Sherlock leave a shop. Knowing mystery always followed them, you couldn’t withhold your excitement. Wanting to be a part of it. Leaving the vender, you hurried over. Making sure you weren’t trampled by a passing carriage on the road. – “Splendid day is it not, Mister Holmes.” – you breathed out, catching your breath from hasting over.

Sherlock and Enola paused when you came jumping in front of them. – “No.” – Sherlock immediately responded already knowing your intentions. He tugged Enola at her arm to follow. You weren’t going to let him win so easily, going after him. – “I didn’t say anything.” – you told him, hot on his tail. Sherlock stopped abruptly, making you nearly bump against his back. He swiftly spun around.

“Your eyes made it clear, you had alternative intentions, also did your posture.” – he started pointing out with his finger. – “The tone in your voice gave you away that you are seeking. Not to mention the flush in your cheeks indicates you hurried over because you knew we might be solving a mystery.” – he answered.

“Are you?” – you responded ignoring most of his speech. – “No.” – Sherlock said clear, turning his back to you once more. – “I know you are lying to me, just let me join.” – you begged going after him. – “No miss Y/n.” – he repeated, staying true to his words. – “Please mister Holmes.” – you reached for his elbow, pulling it towards you.

Wanting him to stop walking. – “No, miss Y/n.” – he called out like speaking to a puppy to sit still. You pouted your lips in response. Enola pressed her lips together to withhold a snicker. – “Fine, you are just scared.” – you called out once he had begun walking away again. – “Scared that I’ll solve it before you.” – hoping to get under his skin would do the trick.

“A man’s observing eye is not that great. Not compared to a woman’s eye.” – you casually said to give him that extra nudge. Admiring your own hands out of boredom. To look indifferent. Enola glanced from between her brother to you. Sherlock puffed his chest, being riled up by you. – “Ha!” - he let out with a hard sound. Intended for mockery.

“Intimidated?” – you questioned moving your hands behind your back. Leaning a bit closer to him. Sherlock puffed loud. Suddenly grabbing you firm by your arm. Pulling you along. Enola snickering quietly at the display. You chuckled amusingly, pleased that your scheme had succeeded.

Sherlock led you to a place, shoving you inside. – “One wrong thing and you are out.” – he warned you. – “You sound like my brothers.” – you replied moving past him with crossed arms. Sherlock shot his sister a scowl to stop smiling like a damn fool. You entered the room with a humming sound. Cheerful that you could involve yourself with mysteries.

You looked around the room, going straight to a painting that caught your eyes. Before you could fully reach it, you felt a gip on your elbow stop you. Sherlock shaking his head as he pulled you away from the painting. Making you huff annoyed, trying to free you from his grip. – “Why do you go for the most obvious thing. First observe then search.” – he spoke.

“Don’t go running in like a blind fool.” – he finished letting go of your arm back by the door. – “Who are you calling a fool?” – you called back. – “You.” – Sherlock tapped his finger on your nose to tease you that extra. It made you scrunch your nose and slap his hand away. You crossed your arms, looking at the room. Sherlock staring in silently, trying to take in every detail. Enola scribbling some notes down. Sherlock began moving from his position after a while.

He stepped a certain way, suddenly stopping. Looking down as he lifted his shoe up. Seeing something black and sticky underneath his shoe. It made you laugh loud. – “If you would’ve been observant, you might have seen that there had clearly been a struggle. The desk is slightly shoved back over the wooden flooring, hinting those scrape marks.” – you approached him with a smug expression.

“If you had observed that, you would’ve also seen that the commotion had tipped the ink bottle over.” – pointing in a certain direction as Sherlock followed your point with his gaze. – “For the ink bottle is over there, where is normally would be on the desk. Someone must have picked it up and moved it away. Perhaps trying to clean it up, but forgot a spot near the carpet… you are currently standing in.”

Sherlock kept staring at you. – “She’s good.” – his sister spoke with a pleasant smile. Sherlock hummed deep, fidgeting with something in his hand. Looking with a quizzable brow from you to his sister and back. Fighting hard the urge to compliment you for your observations.

“As I said, a woman’s eye.” – you repeated holding out a handkerchief to him. He curled up a smile at your silliness. – “Do continue then, miss Y/n.” – he gestured at you to go on. Bending a bit down to clean the underside of his shoe from ink. You hummed soft looking thoughtfully around. His sister was looking around as well. Taking notes near a knights suit.

Displayed for art from a long time ago. Enola narrowed her eyes on it. Her brother’s calling catching her off guard. Making her turn sharply around, but accidentally knocking an elbow against the armour. The armour started to wobble back and forth. Enola gasping loud as she jumped aside.

The armour came falling forwards towards you as you were the next close target. – “Miss Y/n!” – Sherlock shouted out, coming to the rescue. Rushing over to you, wrapping his arms around you. Turning you away, keeping you in his arms.

Staring up close to your face, panting quietly on your lips as the armour clattered to the ground behind him. Enola gasped again with her hands up to her mouth. – “I’m so sorry.” – she let out in shock. Her brother’s eyes still on you. – “Are you alright miss Y/n?” – he questioned. You nodded with a bashful flush in your cheeks. He slowly rose your posture up so you stood steady on your feet once more.

His hands still on you, till his sister made him aware of it. Making him clear his throat, immediately dropping his grip. Quickly turning away, scratching the back of his head in the process. You swallowed hard, turning away as well. Wanting to hide the fluster in your cheeks. With a nervous atmosphere, the two of you focused on the matter once more. Unaware of the Holmes gentleman catching glimpses of you.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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maximsdeadwife · 2 years ago

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The Experiment

Sherlock Holmes x reader

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Sh-Sherlock- I- oh!’

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

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

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

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

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

And then it hit.

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

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

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

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

You nodded, biting your lips together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Ah- ohhh-’

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

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

‘Then please, Sherlock, take me-’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes,’ you chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Tell me about it?’ you breathed excitedly.

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

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

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

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

‘Precisely. “Mycroft” it is.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes, yes I would… I would like…’

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

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

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

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

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

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