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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 5 months

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Last Updated: 2024-02-06

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

✑ A Week Early￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: You and Sherlock are having your first children; who've thought the famously emotionless detective would be such an anxious father.

✑ A Little Love and Lots of Laughs by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "It's been five years since you met Sherlock Holmes, four since you fell in love, and three since you married. [Now], you have [two children] who... happen to love picnics, swimming and spending time with their cousin Rosie and Uncle John."

✑ Absence of You by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You're] away on a mission…, leaving Sherlock to wrestle mentally with his importance in [your] life and how badly he wants [you] home."

✑ Always Attract by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "The strobe lights won't stop blinding him and Sherlock can't seem to shake the feeling that he's missing out, until he realizes he isn't."

✑ Bedside Manner by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock figures out who the father is and [a cat's got your] tongue."

✑ Brother, Annoying Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Sherlock's, once again, struggling to express feelings, refusing to admit he fancies you. Luckily, Mycroft knows just how to get him to confess.

✑ Champagne Problems by leftperfectionmoon • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: reader turns down her boyfriend when he proposes to her as she has been in love with sherlock all this time.

✑ Closed for Today by coppercatswrites • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Sherlock closes shop to take care of you while you're sick.

✑ Come Home by lykaonimagines • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Following Mary's death, Sherlock sent you away to prevent you from stopping him from doing what he felt he had to do to save John. However, now that you're back and has all the details, you're not sure your relationship can survive it.

✑ Don't You Dare Say "I'm Sorry" by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes had sparred with many an intimidating nemesis. He'd faced off against the most fierce, twisted, cold, hard, calculating, fearful opponents known to man, however none of adversaries that had come before had invoked such terror and panic as the one he was currently staring down."

✑ Exact Opposite by lykaonimagines • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When his brother still refuses to get dressed and take the case he has for him seriously, Mycroft calls [you in] to handle the situation."

✑ Expectant by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "[You're] acting strange, and Sherlock notices. [After] confessing the truth and... He struggles to find the words."

✑ Feeling is Mutual, the by classickook • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You've been harbouring a crush on Sherlock for quite some time now but are determined to keep it a secret for as long as [possible]. Foolish of you to think he wouldn't figure it out... and maybe he'll even return your sentiment?"

✑ Game is On, the by classickook • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You have a little surprise for Sherlock that turns out differently than you had originally planned."

✑ Headache by bewarethecrazyperson • 〔F᜶C〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "...While it was rare for you to get a proper headache, it wasn't unfamiliar for you or the boys when one resurfaced. They usually let you be, knowing that rest, medication and sleep would usually take care of the problem. [However,] what happens when you accidentally take one of Sherlock's pills?"

✑ Holmes, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: When Sherlock's parents invite you to dinner, mistaking you for his girlfriend, it pushes their son to finally tell you how he feels.

✑ If You're Shy (Let Me Know) by classickook • 18+ • 〔E᜶M᜶F〕 •

Summary: "When Irene won't stop teasing you about your lack of experience, Sherlock comes to your defence and maybe even proves the woman wrong."

✑ Ignorance and Lunch Dates by thepokyone • 〔M᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock was clever. Everybody knew that - especially you, considering you had been friends with him since high school. Being friends with Sherlock had its pros, but it also had its cons."

✑ Jealous? by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: {…}

✑ Jealous, Love? by annesthaeticc • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes doesn't get jealous. Well, that was until you volunteered to help him out on a case that puts his feelings for you in jeopardy."

✑ Kidnapped by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Kissing Advice by imagine-by-susu • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: When Irene taunts Sherlock with his sexual inexperience, the detective seeks out your advise on the matter. However, the situation does go quite how Sherlock hoped…

✑ Let's Have Dinner￨Prt. II by classickook • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "as Sherlock's neighbor and friend, you've spent quite a bit of time with the detective and developed feelings for him. unfortunately for you, however, his heart belongs to another."

✑ Make Up by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Although you never enjoy fighting with Sherlock, you love making up afterwards.

✑ Men by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You work at the MI-6 Headquarters for Lady Smallwood. You love your job, but one day someone shows up and things get a little bit weird."

✑ Nicknames by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "4 times you used nicknames for Sherlock."

✑ On Edge￨Prt. II by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock has no cases and John forbid him to smoke... [leading] Sherlock to find other ways to take out his frustration and, at the same time, showing [you] what it's like to be on edge."

✑ Other Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Puppy Luv by annesthaeticc • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "While on a case, Sherlock Holmes stumbles upon a new friend… He brings her home, and fluff ensues."

✑ Rest of Our Lives￨Prt. II by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock returns home late after a week long case, and contemplates the current state of their relationship."

✑ Safe Space by lykaonimagines • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "During an argument over one of Sherlock's experiments, [you realize] some events in his life have impacted him more than he usually let on."

✑ Sentiment by goldencherriess • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock finds himself entranced by Lestrade's best friend and co-worker."

✑ Tipsy by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: When John and Sherlock return to the flat, absolutely smashed, it's up to you and Mrs. Hudson to ensure they're looked after.

✑ Waltz by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ White Lillies by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 •

Summary: You mistakenly confess you feelings to Sherlock, as it happens his reaction is rather sweet.

✑ Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You] enters 221B and instantly notices the smell of another woman's perfume. [You realize] it's Irene Adler who is [trying] to convince Sherlock that she is a better woman for him."

✑ Woman Who Was No Lady, the by whereiputtheotherstuff • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: A tense conversation with Irene Adler makes Sherlock realize something extraordinary about you.

✑ Why Do I Want to Do This Again

✑ You Don't Know Him Like I Do by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You're sick and tired of constantly hearing insults thrown at Sherlock about how he handles his emotions."

✑ Your Stupid Face by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock is too proud to admit to anybody he likes you, but John knows."

✑ Affirmation by eurusholmmes • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ All Day by classickook • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Announcement, the by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔M〕 •

✑ Another One!? by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Bad Day by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Bagels by grace-writes-shit • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Birds and Bathtubs by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Blissful Morning by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Boring Days, the by thepokyone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cuddling? Cuddling. by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating and Doctors by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Emotions and Experiments by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 •

✑ Enjoy the Show Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Fatherly Advice by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ F*ck It by coppercatswrites • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Jaw Kisses by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Keep Breathing by eurusholmmes • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Lust by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔E〕 •

✑ Lying Detective, the by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts •

✑ Made for Each Other by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Measurements by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Morning Light by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Never Stood a Chance by luxwritesfanfic • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ New Family by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ No Flirting by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Not on the Couch by imagine-by-susu • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our First Kiss by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our Little Game by justauthoring • 〔F〕 •

✑ Psychology of Cute by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Resurrection by moonlightsong • 〔A᜶F〕 •

✑ Rewritten Memory by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

✑ Safe in Your Arms by classickook • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Stressed by generallynerdy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tease by classickook • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tell It Like It Is by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Texting by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ These Words Of Mine by eurusholmmes • 〔A〕 •

✑ Thinking Out Loud by grace-writes-shit • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wedding Day by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Why Did You Kiss Me? by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 •

✑ Babysitting Rosie w/ Sherlock... by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

✑ Being Sherlock's Pregnant Wife... by tessimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Cuddling w/ Sherlock... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Sherlock Holmes... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Getting into Trouble w/ Sherlock... by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Sherlock Master Index

Authors: @annesthaeticc || @bewareofthecrazyperson || @classickook || @coppercatwrites || @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @eurusholmmes || @gaitwae || @geeks-universe || @generallynerdy || @goldencherriess || @grace-writes-shit || @imagine-by-susu || @imaginesbyella || @justauthoring || @leftperfectionmoon || @luxwritesfanfic || @lykaonimagines || @magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics || @moonlightsong || @oneshots-imagines-and-that || @prettyxlittlexwriter || @spilledkauffie || @tessimagines || @thepokyone || @whereiputtheotherstuff || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||

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daydreamtofiction · 3 months

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Thou Shalt Not Covet // 10: Baptism

Contents | Part 9 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) The morning after stirs up a new Ellis, one who returns home with a newfound fire.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, religious imagery, sexual references, scenes of verbal & physical conflict. Readers must be 18+

"Shit."

You stirred slowly at the sound of Father Benedict's voice, his weight disappearing from beside you, making the mattress bounce and the bed frame creak.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit shit." The words left him in a panicked hiss, each utterance catching between his teeth.

You opened one eye, vision fuzzy in the dull morning light, too tired to make sense of what was happening. Why was he swearing? Had he already begun to regret what you'd done?

He hurried across the bedroom in a blur of bare skin and frantic whispers, hopping and stumbling into a pair of underpants as he made his way towards the window.

"What's wrong?" you croaked, watching as he craned around the curtain, peering down towards the ground outside.

A knock at the front door answered your question. He ducked down quickly, adjusting himself in his pants as he slowly rose back up again. Another knock.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Shit, fuck-"

"Father?" a distant voice called out. "Father, are you in there?"

"Is that June?" you asked quietly, eyes widening as you sat up and clutched the duvet to your bare chest, as though the sound of her voice alone was enough to make you feel indecent.

He groaned despairingly into his hands as she knocked again, calling out to him with concern through the letterbox.

"What's going on?" you whispered. "Why is she here?"

"Because I- shitting hell," he hissed. "I overslept."

"For what?"

"Morning bloody prayer. I can't believe I-" He stopped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before unlatching the window and pushing it open. "June! June, up here," he shouted, waving down at her with an apologetic smile. "I am... so sorry, I- I wasn't feeling well last night and I've slept in."

"You slept in?" she replied. Her voice was faint, the wind carrying most of it away. "But I've already opened the church doors-"

"No, no that's fine. Really, I just have to get dressed and then I'll be there."

"Well people've already started arriving. What do I do in the meantime?"

"Tell her to try out some of her standup material," you muttered from the bed.

He choked back a laugh and swatted his hand at you, like a silent telling off. "Just-" He cleared his throat, taking a moment to straighten his face. "Just tell them I'm running late but shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

You weren't sure if she said anything else after that - the woman tended to mumble at the best of times - but the sound of her footsteps fading over the gravel driveway made it clear she was retreating.

Father Benedict shut the window and turned around, blowing out a puff of air as he leaned back against the wall. "I can't believe I overslept."

"You were up late, to be fair," you replied.

He allowed his eyes to wander, just for a moment, over the messy bed, your bare thigh peeking through a gap in the duvet. "Still," he began, shaking it away and rushing to the wardrobe. "I have a responsibility to my congregation, I can't just... not show up, it's..."

You sat quietly as he rummaged through his clothes, hanger hooks screeching as he moved them back and forth along the rail. He pulled out a shirt and shrugged it on, turning towards you as he buttoned it up.

"This isn't how I'd ideally have liked this morning to go. But I shouldn't be gone for more than a couple of hours," he said. "I lead prayer, then afterwards I host a small social meet for some elderly members, but it won't take long."

Your back straightened slightly. "Y-you... want me to stay here while you're gone?"

"Yeah," he replied casually as he grabbed a pair of trousers and stepped into them. "Unless- Do you have to be somewhere?"

"No- well, not until later."

"Okay. Just... help yourself to something to eat, preferably stay away from the windows-"

You giggled.

"And I'll drive you home when I get back."

"You really don't have to-"

"I want to."

You conceded, nodding softly and settling back against the headboard.

He pulled open a drawer and grabbed a pair of socks before hooking his fingers into his shoes and making his way towards the door. "Okay, back soon."

"You might want to fix your hair," you called out.

He stopped, turning back to look at you as he ran a hand through the wild locks. "Better?"

"It'll do."

You sat on the back doorstep of the rectory, warming your hands on a mug of tea as you watched your dress blowing on the washing line. Last night's storm had given way to a mild morning, but the wind still had a bite, making the dress flutter and dance in the air, the bright yellow fabric billowing like a flag at full mast. You never drank tea; why you'd chosen to make some now was a mystery. It just felt right, the kind of thing a normal person would do whilst they sat waiting for clothes to dry.

The garden was quaint and secluded, a boarder of thick bushes and tall trees beyond the mossy stone walls, enclosing the small pocket of green in total privacy. You sipped your tea as birds chirped and bounced from tree to tree, the smell of the toast you'd made still drifting out from the kitchen.

Maybe this kind of life wouldn't be so bad, you thought. You were sure you could learn to like tea, hang washing on the line every morning, make breakfast as birds sang beyond the garden wall. You could bake cakes for parish fundraisers, have a bunch of kids and give them 'sensible' names like Jacob or Charlotte, take them to mass every weekend, say grace around the dinner table. Maybe it wouldn't matter that you didn't actually believe in any of it, because once the church doors closed and the kids went to bed, it'd be just the two of you. And he already knew, but he wanted you anyway.

"God, Ellis, get a grip," you muttered. "One night together and suddenly you're the pastor's wife."

You rose to your feet, pausing on the doorstep to gaze up at a blanket of soft grey clouds rolling in overhead. It was going to rain again, you thought. You made your way back into the kitchen and tipped the last of the tea down the drain, swilling the mug with water and drying it with a tea towel. It was nice to see an empty sink; no plates covered in dried food, no wet, grimy sponges or wine glasses rimmed with Gina's lipstick.

Gina.

Your stomach turned at the thought of her; how she was probably at home right now waiting for you to come back, or maybe she didn't even care that you were gone. Could you even call that place home anymore? Home was supposed to be a sanctuary; a place of warmth, comfort, safety. Yet all that house seemed to be was a collection of closed doors, strangers with familiar faces and rooms you never spent time in.

The sound of the front door latch made you still, a click followed by a creak, footsteps moving through the house towards you. For a moment you worried it may not be him, how you would explain why you were there, alone, wearing clothes that didn't belong to you. But the fear was fleeting, quelling instantly when a deep, rich voice chimed from the living room.

"Ellis? Are you still here?"

"Yeah, I'm in here," you replied.

He stepped halfway through the door with a smile; the same smile you'd come to look forward to whenever you arrived at church. It was charming, gracious, every inch of his face brightening the moment he laid eyes on you. You smiled back, though you weren't sure you could ever produce an expression as naturally warm as his.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

"Look what I found." He moved further into the kitchen, revealing a small leather handbag dangling by its strap over his index finger.

He handed it to you with a smile and you thanked him in a relieved sigh, making your way to the kitchen table and unzipping it with haste. He pulled out the chair beside you and sat down too, stealing a piece of half-eaten toast from the plate you'd left on the table and munching on it quietly as he watched you.

You took out your phone, tapping your thumbs with futility against the shiny black screen. "Dead," you said. "Thought as much."

"I think I have a charger somewhere if-"

"Nah it's okay. Haven't paid my phone bill so it makes no difference anyway."

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he swept the crumbs off his hands. "Do you want to use my phone?"

"You have a phone?"

"Why wouldn't I have a phone?"

"I don't know, just hard to imagine a priest... texting."

"I text."

You couldn't help the amusement creeping across your face, the thought of his name popping up on your screen; what would you save him as? Ben? Father Benedict? Perhaps just Father would suffice. Daddy?- No, Ellis.

"Do you think priests take vows to live like it's the 1800's or something?" he asked.

You shrugged. "I just assumed if you needed to use a phone you'd have one of those old rotary ones or something."

"Oh my god." He laughed, too amused to notice the blasphemous slip.

You slid the phone back into your bag and dragged the zip closed slowly, watching each metal tooth knit together with far more focus than the task required.

He stopped laughing and cocked his head, eyes darting over your face. "Are you alright?"

"Hm?"

"You. Are you okay?"

You remained quiet for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek in thought. "Y'know I've never liked that question. It's too broad, don't you think? Makes my brain feel all jumbled."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, okay in what sense? Physically? Mentally? Right this minute or in life in general?" You relaxed slightly into the back of your chair. "Sometimes, people don't even actually want to know how you are at all, they're just saying it instead of 'hello'..."

A smile curled slightly at one side of his mouth. "Well I actually want to know how you are."

"In which way?"

"Let's go with all of them. How are you? In every iteration."

"Hm. Well, physically, I'm tired, a little sore, my foot is killing me. But emotionally I feel... weirdly calm; like last night changed something in me. But I'm not necessarily sure that's a bad thing."

"You feel different?"

"Yeah. Don't you?"

He let his head fall slightly to one side, his gaze turning distant, just for a moment. "No." He shook his head, focusing his attention back on you. "Honestly, I thought I would. I went to sleep last night convinced I'd wake up full of regret and shame and- no offence-"

"Mm," you replied sarcastically.

"But I didn't. I still felt... like me. Like nothing's changed."

"Even after all that sinning you did?" you joked. "You sinned a lot, father."

He dropped his head to hide a smirk. "Hey, what happens in the rectory stays in the rectory."

Your shoulders shook with a chuckle, making him smile.

"I like it when you laugh," he said softly. "You don't do it enough."

You glanced across at him; at those sea foam eyes, so striking against the tired red of their waterlines.

"I have a stupid laugh," you replied quietly.

He smiled, shifting in his seat to move himself closer, his body leaning in slowly towards you. "You have a lovely laugh."

It was strange, how even after a night like last night - after growing so familiar with the intricacies of his body and submitting yours so willingly to him - the sight of his face edging closer, lips parting gently in anticipation, was still so butterfly-inducing.

You'd resigned yourself to the idea that you'd never get to kiss him again, that when the sun rose that morning, all of the intimacy you'd shared would be washed away with last night's storm. Yet here you were, gazing at him through heavy lashes, your focus rolling slowly back and forth between his eyes and mouth as you sat perfectly still, letting him come to you. Closer and closer until you couldn't see anything but him, couldn't hear anything besides your own heartbeat, the gentle pattering of rain against the kitchen window.

Rain.

"Oh, shit!" You jumped up quickly and bolted to the back door, throwing it open and hurrying over the grass towards the washing line.

You were back in the dress, although you weren't sure it resembled sunshine much anymore. There were patches that hadn't fully dried, smudges of dirt from holding your shoes in your lap, and a small bloodstain on the skirt. Yesterday, you'd felt pretty when you put it on. Today, you hadn't even dared glance at your own reflection.

Father Benedict turned the heat up in the car, sliding the vents to point the warm air in your direction. You were thankful for it, relaxing back into the seat and staring out the window as he drove, slowing for a red light almost as soon as he pulled out of the church grounds.

"So where are you going to say you were last night?" he asked.

You could tell the question had been itching to get out, dancing on his tongue until he finally found the right moment to let it spill.

"I haven't thought about it," you replied. "Suppose it's none of their business where I was."

"What if anyone else asks?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, sensing there was a specific answer he wanted to hear, one that would free the tension he'd been holding in his shoulders since he'd got behind the wheel.

"I'm not going to tell anyone what happened, Father," you finally replied, trying your best to make your voice sound soft, reassuring, trustworthy.

He glanced over at you for a second before fixing his gaze back on the road, the light finally turning green again.

"Thank you," he said. "I mean, it's not that I- I'm not saying I want to pretend this never happened or anything. I just..."

"Want to pretend this never happened."

He laughed gently through his nose. "No. I just need to figure out the best way to navigate through-"

"Navigate," you groaned teasingly. "God, you sound like an internet life coach."

He rolled his eyes. "Navigate is a perfectly normal word."

"It's a fluffer. You're fluffing up the point you're trying to make."

He looked at you again, longer this time. "Alright. I don't want to give up my priesthood."

"I know. I never expected you would."

"It's who I am. My faith, it's... such an integral part of me. And that's not me saying last night wasn't also me. I just... You've thrown some things into question, made me act in ways that definitely wouldn't go down well if the church found out."

"I made you?"

He smirked. "Mhm, all your fault."

You turned back to the window, biting your lip to suppress a smile. "At least you won't have to deal with me hanging around the church anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I admitted I lied. I'm just a big fat nonbeliever. No reason for me to attend services anymore."

He paused in thought, steering the car smoothly with his large, agile hands. The movement made you shiver; the sight of his fingers curling around the wheel, the protruding knuckles and prominent veins, even more attractive now you knew what it felt like to have them on you.

"So does that mean you won't be coming to help out on Thursday?" he asked, entirely oblivious to your ogling.

"Thursday?"

"The communion session."

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, exasperated exhale. "Shit," you whispered. "I forgot about that."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," he said. "I can make do-"

"No, no, I offered to help out."

With every traffic light, every turn of a corner and familiar street, you felt the tension turning your limbs to stone. Nerves flooded your stomach at the thought of walking back into that house, confronting the people you somehow wanted to slap and thank at the same time.

Father Benedict bumped the kerb gently, rolling to a stop beside the front gate. He pulled the handbrake, the car plummeting into silence as he switched off the engine, the only sound coming from your deep intake of breath, the sigh that left you as you turned your head to face him.

You took a moment to look at him, to let your eyes skim over every line and curve of his face. You would see him again, of course you would, but not like this.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" he asked.

You nodded, allowing a quick smile before grabbing your bag and the straps of your shoes.

"Ellis..."

You glanced back up to find him staring straight ahead through the windshield, head tipped back slightly against the headrest.

"I meant what I said last night." He didn't look at you. "You shouldn't let anyone who isn't worthy go near you again."

It made everything feel more real, somehow, hearing those words repeated without the cloud of heat and lust surrounding you.

"Promise me," he said, finally making eye contact.

"I promise." The words left you in an awkward stammer, mouth moving before your brain had a chance to catch up.

You undid your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, the hinges groaning and grinding as you pushed your elbow against the door, always forgetting how stiff it was until you found yourself fighting to open it.

You leaned all of your weight into it, but it didn't budge. "It's jammed," you said. "Like actually jammed this time."

He sighed and unclipped his seatbelt. "Honestly, this piece of shit car," he mumbled as he leaned over to help.

His body was stretched across yours, so close you could see the muscles straining in his neck, feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. You pressed your back into the seat to give him more room, watching his throat bob with a hard swallow as he pushed on the door, finally getting it to open.

"There we are," he groaned.

"Thanks," you said softly.

He looked at you, still leant over your body, eyes falling to your chest as it rose and fell with slow, heavy breaths. And when his gaze snapped back up to meet yours, there was an entirely different expression on his face.

"Alfie!" Gina's voice screeched in the distance, turning the heat between you ice cold.

You turned to see her on the front doorstep of the house, her panic and anger clear despite the distance between you.

"Alfie! It's Ellis, she's back!"

You sighed and climbed out of the car, closing the door behind you with your hip.

"Where the fuck have you been!?"

You didn't answer her, walking barefoot over the pavement towards the gate, barely getting it open before Alfie appeared at her side. He pushed past her, steam practically rising from the top of his head as he came bounding down the path towards you.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Ellis!?" he shouted.

You'd never seen him like this before, so aggressive in his movements, clenched teeth and balled fists, the fury palpable beneath his skin.

"Just disappearing like that!? Not answering your phone all night!? Do you know how fucking worried we've been!? We were this close to calling the fucking police!-"

He stopped a few feet away from you, his focus shifting to the tall figure emerging from the car. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as he watched Father Benedict approaching.

"Don't I know you...?" he muttered in confusion.

"It's the vicar," Gina called out, hurrying down the path.

"Priest," you corrected bluntly.

"Really, Ellis?" Alfie snarled. "Is this a fucking joke!? I've been up all night with no idea where you were, and you've been with him!?"

He marched angrily towards you, stopping suddenly when Father Benedict stepped in the way.

"Whoa there," your priest said calmly, voice so deep it was almost inaudible.

Alfie took a breath, back straightening as he glared at the man in front of him. "What? You think I was going to hit her?" He sneered in genuine offence. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

"Probably best I don't answer that question," Father Benedict quipped.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just calm down and go inside," said Gina, grabbing Alfie by the sleeve of his shirt.

He shrugged her off. "No. I want to know who the fuck this guy thinks he is."

"He's the guy who let me sleep on his couch when I said I didn't want to come home," you said. "Because I caught my boyfriend fucking my best friend, in case you'd forgot that part."

"Oh of course you're piping up now you've got this dick head sticking up for you."

Father Benedict smiled, which only seemed to irritate him more.

"What's a priest doing getting all pally with some random woman who doesn't even believe in God anyway? It's fucking creepy, you're a fucking creep." He pointed his finger in his face, spitting the words at him.

"Put the finger down," he said calmly.

"What? This?" He began pushing it hard into his chest, poking and prodding him roughly.

"Oh Alfie, grow up," you said.

"I understand you've been worried about her," said Father Benedict, gripping him firmly by the wrist to stop the childish assault. "But taking your anger out on me isn't going to solve anything. I was just dropping her home."

"Do you want a medal?" He snatched his hand away. "Want me to thank you for harbouring her in your house while I worried sick all night?"

You couldn't help but scoff. "I wouldn't have left in the first place if you hadn't been sleeping with-"

"You shut-"

It all happened so fast you barely had time to react; Alfie turning towards you, pointing in your face as he took another quick, belligerent step forward. Father Benedict intercepting with a swift swing of his arm, his fist cracking against the side of his face and knocking him to the ground.

You took a sharp breath, somewhere between a gasp and a choke, watching as Gina dropped to her knees at Alfie's side with a panicked yell. Father Benedict sucked in the air through his teeth, hissing as he shook his hand, a pained expression scrunching his nose.

"Oh my god," you breathed, grabbing him by the upper arms and pulling him back, dragging him over to the car.

"Fuck sake," he whispered, opening and closing his fist.

"I can't believe you just did that."

"I'm so sorry, I just- I thought he was going to-"

"What the fuck!?" Gina shouted. "Aren't you supposed to be a fucking pacifist or some shit!?"

Alfie groaned, pushing her hands away as she tried to examine his face.

"Just go inside, Gina, Jesus Christ!" you shouted.

You took his hand in yours and he let you hold it for a moment, looking over the grazes on his knuckles in stunned silence. "It's okay, I'm alright," he said, gently pulling away and shaking it out again.

"You prick," Alfie spat as he clambered to his feet.

You sighed, nodding towards the car. "You should go."

He hesitated, eyes darting between his hand and the face he'd just pummelled with it.

"I'll be fine," you insisted. "Honestly. He's a dick but he wouldn't hurt me."

"Forgive me for finding that hard to believe."

"He wouldn't, I swear. I just want to go upstairs, get a shower, get my stuff together. I'll be alright."

There was a deep, reluctant rumble in his throat before he finally gave in, turning to make his way to the driver's side door. You exhaled a shaking breath, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him get in, trying to ignore the chaos still erupting behind you.

He got in the car and shut the door, concern etched between his brows as he looked at you through the passenger window. You gave a reassuring smile and waved him off, stepping back through the gate.

"Wait, Ellis," he called as he rolled down the window and leaned over. "Here."

You walked closer, plucking a small piece of paper from his outstretched fingers.

"If you need me," he said simply.

You looked down at the paper as the car rolled away, a mobile number scribbled hastily across it, 'I text' written below. You laughed to yourself and closed your fist around it, turning on your sore, bare heels and making your way up the path towards the house.

You'd made it halfway upstairs when you heard the front door slam behind you, the sound of footsteps hurrying after you.

"Wait, Ellis," Gina barked. "Do you not think we need to talk!?"

You spun around, looking down at her as she followed you. "No, I don't."

"I'm pressing charges on him," said Alfie.

"He was protecting me," you replied angrily. "He thought you were about to hit me."

"Look, I don't care about what happened out there," said Gina.

"I fucking do," Alfie mumbled.

"We need to talk about yesterday."

You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs. "You mean when I walked in on you screwing my boyfriend?"

"Ellis-"

"How long? Actually, y'know what? I don't care. You're welcome to him. I was done anyway."

"What?" Alfie shouted, jogging up to catch you.

You walked down the landing to your bedroom, turning just before you reached the door. "I was done. With us."

He pushed past Gina, making his way towards you. There was a bright red mark on the side of his face, a cut on his lip and blood smeared around his nostril. You almost felt bad for him, but then he spoke.

"You are fucking him, aren't you!"

You sighed, opening the door and stepping into your room. "What are you-"

"The priest! That's where you were last night, that's why he just punched me in the face like some fucking yob in a nightclub-"

"Anything to make yourself feel better about what you did, Alfie."

You slid open a drawer and pulled out a towel, wedging it under your arm as you fished for some clean clothes.

"You're not denying it," he said from the doorway.

"I have denied it, you just don't want to listen."

"Bullshit. You've been acting different ever since you started going to that church. I knew there had to be a reason for it. It's not normal, Ellis! And I don't buy for one second you've just made innocent pals with that guy. It's- It's weird! Leaving me here so you can go and spend time with that-"

"Do you know what, fine. Yeah, I slept with him," you began, walking towards him. "And do you know something else? He was better, and bigger, and more skilled than you could ever hope to be."

He swallowed, his face hard and unamused, eyes scanning your face in an attempt to figure out if you were lying or not.

You came face-to-face with him, leaning in to speak slowly and quietly. "He made me come so hard he had to cover my mouth just to keep me quiet."

You elbowed past him, leaving him speechless behind you.

"Ellis," said Gina, standing in the way of the bathroom. "I just want to talk-"

"I don't have anything to say," you interrupted bluntly. "Our entire friendship has just been you keeping me around to make yourself feel better. Patronising me, infantilising me, making me feel so wildly uncomfortable about who I am. You've made it very clear you can have any man you want, yet you decided to fuck mine. All because I stood up to you at the christening, made you feel stupid for half a fucking second."

She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "It's not like that."

You stepped around her, pushing into the bathroom.

"I think I actually have feelings for him, Ellis."

"Of course you do. And you know what? Congratulations. I'm glad it's you he'll be flailing about on top of instead of me."

Her jaw sharpened, teeth grinding behind pursed lips. "Y'know... I think you should probably look for somewhere else to live..."

You gave a dry laugh. "Shags my boyfriend then kicks me out. Classic Gina."

You slammed the door and locked it, letting your forehead rest against the wood for a moment as you caught your breath. That was so unlike you. All of it. The harshness, the sarcasm, the honesty. It felt good. So why were you trembling?

You stripped off your dress and sat on the edge of the bath, gently peeling away the dressing from the sole of your foot. It didn't look as bad as it felt, the dried blood covering a small slice, the skin around it darkening with a bruise.

You turned on the shower, holding your hand beneath the water until it warmed up, watching the stream run off the tips of your fingers like ribbons. This water was going to cleanse you; wash away the dirt and sweat and rain, the anger, the shame. You were going to scrub it all away and step out anew.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @veryladyqueen @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi

*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

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french-vanilla-in-the-clouds · 2 years

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Sherlock comes home high off the thrill of case solving, he proceeds to drive Y/N insane (in the best way, of course). Though he refuses to wind down and take a break, Y/N must use her wits to CALM. HIM. DOWN.

Sleepy Sherlock + fluff! ♡

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The drone of Mrs Hudon's vacuum thrummed below the flat. It was a lazy day on Baker Street, and Y/N could feel it's droll effects.

She stood by the kitchen table, steeping a cup of tea. It's colour drained out in ribbons as she watched with unenthused interest. Sherlock hadn’t made it home that night, so the flat was painfully quiet.

Y/N prodded at her teabag. She squeezed the last of its flavouring out with a spoon and sighed. "So this is what he means when he's bored," she muttered.

She was about to dump the tea for the sake of steeping another batch, when a familiar voice boomed from the front door.

"I AM BRILLIANT! Oh darling, I know my mind is first-rate, but there are moments where even I'm impressed by its rampant luminosity!"

Y/N gave a jolt at the sudden intrusion. The door crashed against its frame and she nearly lost grip of her teacup. The drink sloshed and burned the back of her hand.

"SHERLOCK!" she cried out. "You startled me!"

Sherlock ignored the reprimand and followed the sound of his partner's voice. His steps were quick, nearly giddy.

Y/N frowned when he creeped into the kitchen. "Three cases solved within a twelve hour span!" he hissed, excited. "I am on FIRE!"

Sherlock's hair was mussed and his eyes gleamed wildly. He sounded breathless when he spoke, as though he had raced across the city.

Y/N bit back a smile and tried to remember her annoyance. "What are you going on about?" she demanded.

Sherlock grinned, nearly buzzing. "A magnificent performance on my part! A tri-movement concerto where I cracked the cases in an eloquent sequence of acuity and guile!"

"Good day, I take it?"

Sherlock dragged his hand along the edge of the countertop until he reached Y/N. His rushed strides were clumsy as he stumbled towards her. He squeezed her shoulders and planted a fervent kiss on her cheek. "Oh, you have no idea!"

"Sherlock, maybe you should take a breather now. You've been out since yesterday. Don't you think a bit of rest is in order?"

He looked down and noticed the steaming teacup still in her hands. "No time for that," he chided. "Come hear about the investigations!" Sherlock tossed the drink to the sink, making the porcelain clatter. Before Y/N could object, he gripped her hand tight and led her to the living room.

Sherlock drew open the curtains with great zeal, his open arms casting shaded silhouettes against the room. "Let's set the scene," he said with a dark smile. He turned back to his partner and stalked around her, building up his narrative.

"A robbery, six missing persons, and a murder. All distinct at first glance, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N perched on the edge of an armchair and crossed her arms. She was amused by his dramatization but worried about his lack of rest. In the moments where Sherlock Holmes was still high off the thrill of case solving, he was nonstop.

"Yes, I suppose so. But maybe you can finish your story in the morning? A good night's rest will---"

Sherlock bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. His eyes were bright. "That can wait, dove. As I was saying, Lestrade believed the three events to be mere coincidences as well. But I soon discovered that---"

"--- that everything was interconnected? Yes Sherlock, that's very impressive."

Sherlock glanced at Y/N and quirked a brow. "I'm sensing disinterest," he noted.

Y/N sighed. She stood up and took his hands in her own. "Not at all," she assured. "I'd love to hear of your triumphs, but I'm more concerned with your wellbeing at the moment."

"I don't understand. I'm perfectly fine!"

Y/N quirked a brow. She studied the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the slight tremble in his hands. His scarf was done up in a knot, and he seemed pale.

"Take a quick look in the mirror and tell me again that you're fine."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "A look at the mirror won't prove anything other than the fact that you worry too much."

"Then it won't hurt to look, now will it?"

Sherlock scoffed and glanced at the mirror hanging from the back wall. He studied his reflection in silence.

"Clever girl," he murmured, finally. "I've seen better days, haven't I?"

Y/N dipped forwards and kissed his jaw. "I would say so. You're not invincible, you know."

Sherlock sighed and pulled her against his chest. "True as that may be, there are certainly moments where I feel invincible."

Y/N felt his deft fingers trail through her hair. She leaned against him and listened to the steady beating of his heart. "Do you mean when you're out case solving?"

Sherlock pulled back until his eyes locked with hers. He tapped a finger to the tip of her nose and grinned. "Not quite. I mean to say that invincibility lies in the moments I stand by your side."

Y/N giggled. "You've gone soft from your sleepless nights," she hummed. "Let's get to bed." Before Sherlock could protest, she gripped the end of his scarf and pulled him away.

"But the sun is still shining! London won't sleep until nightfall, and I'm sure I can hold up another few hours!" His last words were muffled by a yawn that he tried and failed to suppress.

"Somehow, I'm not convinced!" Y/N laughed. "You're exhausted. Come on, I'll fetch you a pillow."

Sherlock smiled. There was no use countering her. Secretly, he didn't really mind. He felt a profound sense of comfort in Y/N's care.

He squeezed her shoulder from behind. "I'm in your hands," he whispered.

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Give Fixation a shot!

I haven't written anything in a while, so I'm just glad to have finished this!!! 😭

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

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little-diable · 10 months

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Lucky Shirt - Prof!Benedict Cumberbatch (smut)

I got the chance to work with @writingliv once again – yes, I am very much fangirling, y'all know how much I adore Liv – and boy, I am so proud of us and of this beautiful fic we've written together. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Cumberbatch was perfect. He was sweet, supportive, ever-willing to help. He was attentive and loved to praise your achievements. It came to no surprise that you had ended up trying and succeeding at becoming his favourite student. The two of you had become an unstoppable duo, however, could there be more than mere passion for academia behind it?

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, lots and lots of tension, small sprinkles of angst, age gap, professorxstudent relationship

Pairing: Prof!Benedict Cumberbatch x fem!reader (about 9k words, she's a long one)

Professor Cumberbatch led a life full of rules, keeping clear schedules, boundaries, and conversations. Honest, passionate, and helpful would probably be the three words most people would use to define him. A life dedicated to teaching, to helping, to learning. He never swayed away from his clear-cut schemes unless it was for somebody else’s benefit. Selfless… Professor Cumberbatch was also incredibly selfless.

You, however, would think this set of facts did not do justice to his character. Professor Cumberbatch was not just selfless. He was an absolute saint. He had been your point of guidance since you first joined his class in your last year of undergrad and had offered you a place as a research assistant as a Master’s student. He had happily stayed until late hours helping you with your first dissertation and had never failed to answer any question related-or-not to his topic. Benedict Cumberbatch was your hero, which made your crush on him so much more inappropriate.

You had tried to stop thinking about him that way, feeling guilty at the idea that this saint of man was so willing to help you and take you under his wing, and all you did was fantasise about him breaking all the university rules and fucking you. It was an awful feeling, especially when you were sure he didn’t feel the same way, but it was something you couldn’t yet find a way to get rid of.

So here you were, sitting in his office, wearing that baby blue shirt he had once complimented a year ago or so, waiting for him to come back with news on whether you had been accepted to attend the most important conference in your field. You had excused your continuous wear of the shirt by referring to it as your lucky colour, making it the perfect attire for any important moment you had shared with the professor.

Your black heels had been incessantly tapping his beautiful Persian rug as you tried your best not to bite your nails when the door of the office finally opened incredibly slowly, and a gloomy Cumberbatch appeared on the opposite side wearing a shirt of a starkly similar colour as yours. “I am sorry…” he started to speak, and you felt your heart drop immediately, your hands moving to your face, covering it. “That you will have to cancel all your plans for the week April 19th because we are going to the conference!” He shouted your way, a gigantic crooked smile filling his mischievous face. You couldn’t believe it, instantly uncovering your face and checking his expression for a bluff.

You couldn’t help yourself jumping up from the excitement and reaching for him, giving him a hug. Your professor seemed to equally disregard all decorum, wrapping his hands around your waist before whispering to your ear, “it seems like your lucky colour works.” You tried your best to hide the growing warmth on your cheeks as he let go of you.

“Thank you so much for this! I am so excited! I cannot believe it!” You replied once the two of you were at an appropriate distance again, still looking at each other with the utmost admiration and excitement.

“Do not thank me. You did this all yourself. I just had to answer a reference request, and you may be surprised about this, but I find it incredibly easy to tell people how incredible you are.”

…

“Can anybody tell me when Operation Overlord was fought?” Professor Cumberbatch’s voice echoed through the classroom, eyes flickering to meet yours at any given chance. It felt like you two were playing a game, a game whose rules you have long forgotten, unable to focus on anything but him.

Him, the one you dream of when the nights grow warmer, when the heat fills your bedroom like the heat filling your veins whenever he speaks to you.

Him, the one that makes you tremble whenever his skin meets yours, never in an inappropriate way, though forced closer like magnets unable to part.

Him, the man that popped up in your thoughts when you wake and when you are about to fall asleep. An ever present sensation you slowly but surely adapted to.

You didn’t pay attention to the answer of the student that tried to catch the professor’s attention for the past minutes. Your thoughts weren’t able to grow quiet, a loud sound that rang through your mind like a song you couldn’t stop singing. It was wrong, so awfully wrong, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from craving his touch, wanting to feel his body pressed against yours without any clothing caught in between.

Professor Cumberbatch needed a few moments to rip his eyes from your features, breaking eye contact with a slight scowl tugging on his face. The nagging voice inside your head made you wonder if he was annoyed with the other student for cutting your shared moment short. There was always something so intense about the way he looked at you, forcing you to sit straighter, eyes unable to move away.

“Anything else you want to add to today’s lesson? If not, you are good to go.” Your heart picked up its beat as his eyes found yours once again, a silent way of communicating, asking you to stay behind for a few more moments. The other students pushed past you all too impatiently, wanting to flee from the classroom, but you didn’t move, not able to even try to imagine another place where you’d rather be.

“I won’t hold you back for long, I just wanted to give you these folders. It’s everything they gave me for the conference.” Your fingers brushed his as you took the folder, breath hitched in your chest. His eyes followed your every move, watching you thumb through the papers, unable to bite down your smile.

“I am so excited, I can’t wait for us to go there!” Your voice left him smiling, unable to bite down his excited grin. Your nerves were running wild, wondering how being at the conference with him will play out, praying to whoever was listening that you’d be able to also focus on something else besides the gorgeous professor you wanted to call yours.

…

Soft music filled Professor Cumberbatch’s office, ringing in your ears without distracting you from the essays you were grading with the professor. It wasn’t unusual for you to join in on his later sessions, finding comfort in his closeness, even though you wouldn’t share many words, just a few glances here and there.

“What is it? You are biting your lip again.” Professor Cumberbatch’s voice ripped you out of your trance, eyes snapping up from the paper. Heat flushed through you as you let go of your lip, teeth no longer buried in the warm flesh.

“Sorry, I struggle to follow their argumentation, it simply makes no sense, and you know how much I hate saying this.” Your voice was soft, not wanting to interrupt the calm atmosphere you two were trapped in. You watched him move closer, admiring the way he carried himself, the way his beige trousers hugged his legs, and how the rolled up sleeves of his black dress shirt exposed just enough of his muscular forearms and the watch clinging to his left wrist. Fuck, you’d dream of this tonight, you were sure of it.

“Let me have a look.” The professor sat down next to you on the comfortable sofa placed in the far back of his office. The scent of his cologne crawled up your nostrils, making you shudder as his leg was pressed against yours. His eyes carefully followed the sentence you had highlighted, concentrating on the arguments the student seemed to have struggled with. “Yes, I see what you mean. Leave it on my desk later, I’ll add some comments myself.”

He pushed the essay back into your hands, eyes meeting yours. Neither one of you dared to move, eyes not wanting to break contact, hearts calling out to one another without finding the right words to express what was burning on the tip of your tongues. He broke the intense moment first, clearing his throat before he rose back to his feet.

“I think I’ve kept you here long enough, you should get some rest and start packing your bags.” Disappointment filled your system, slowly nodding your head as a quiet “Of course” left your lips. And with one last glance shared, you left his office with a racing heart and sweaty palms.

…

You arrived at your apartment and dropped on your bed, sighing loudly. It was getting too difficult to deal with, to keep your gazes in check, to keep him from knowing how you felt. It was overwhelming. It was driving you crazy. You were growing so desperate for any hint of reciprocation that you had started to imagine things, seeing lust in his gaze when it couldn't be there, when it shouldn’t be there.

You decided to check your already packed bag one more time, giving into the parting words of your professor. All the outfits for the conferences lay perfectly organised in your bag, each accompanied by a pair of matching lingerie. No. you were not planning on sleeping with anyone at this event. It was just an old trick that you had once read; wearing matching lingerie makes you feel confident even outside of the bedroom.

You were about to close the bag when your phone rang on your nightstand. You picked it up, surprised to see Professor Cumberbatch calling you at almost 1 am.

“Hello?” you picked up, your fingers playing with the silky material of the matching nightgown to your lingerie.

“Hey there, apologies for the late phone call,” his voice sounded tired and stressed. You knew exactly how badly he wanted all his students to do well, and grading always put him in a bit of a bad mood.

“No problem, Professor. Is everything okay?” your question was filled with worry as you sat down on your bed and wondered if he was still in his office.

“I was just thinking about our conversation from earlier, and I was worried you would think I dismissed you because you couldn’t finish correcting that paper. You know how much I appreciate you helping me with corrections, and I wouldn’t want you to think anything bad of my dismissal. It was just so late and… I sometimes worry that I am stealing all your time. I am sure you have better things to do on a Saturday night than spend it with me, correcting papers with me.” He ranted away nervously. You could hear the sound of his dress shoes in the background as he paced through the room.

“There is no other place I’d rather be,” you blurted out right away, immediately realising the finality of that statement.

“Really?” he chuckled bitterly, “I am sure any other woman your age would disagree. Your twenties are important for your career but also to go out, have fun, make friends, and make mistakes. Please don’t let me keep you away from doing all of those things.”

“I am having fun, and I have friends,” you laughed, slightly hurt that he thought you were a complete loser.

“You know what I mean,” he chuckled, embarrassed.

“No, professor, I am not quite sure. From what I understand, you think I am a loser with no friends or fun,” you laughed, teasing him further.

“What I was trying to say is that there are significantly funner things to be doing on a Saturday than correcting papers with me. At your age, I was doing much more interesting things, at least.”

“What were you doing, Professor?” It was an inappropriate question, especially in the tone you had spoken it. You were not sure where it had come out from, but the exhaustion and comfort of your bed had pulled it out of you.

“I don’t know…” he seemed to be thinking, trying to understand himself where he wanted to draw a line before this conversation broke his rules, “I was partying, drinking, getting into trouble, trying to get girls.”

“I do all of those things,” you replied confidently, a foxy smile on your lips and a particularly strong inflexion in the all.

“Girls?” he asked, cursing himself right away for falling into your obvious trap.

“Girls… boys…” you laughed, “I am usually not the one trying, though. Especially recently, nobody has really caught my interest that way.”

“I guess I should take advantage of it and continue to monopolise your time until you do,” his answer sent a shiver down your spine. It was late, and neither of you was thinking perfectly straight.

“I think you should,” you replied before a yawn took over your voice.

“I should let you get some sleep. We have a long week ahead of us. See you at the station tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Professor.”

…

You watched the scenery pass by, the lush green countryside, the houses that seemed empty and once left behind in a hurry to disappear from rural places like these. Your heart ached at the thought, finding sadness in the empty places, wondering who had once lived inside these buildings.

It had been a good two hours since you had met the professor at the railway station, boarding the train to the conference. And while he was sitting next to you, elbows and thighs close to touching, eyes focused on a book he was reading, you didn’t find the needed comfortableness to focus on your book nor on your notes.

Your mind painted a colourful picture, wondering how the upcoming day with him so close would play out. Even though you were used to seeing him every single week, this was something new, something exciting, something that left you gasping for air.

“Are you cold?” His voice stroked your limbs like the soft April breeze, hands instinctively finding your arms.

“No, I’m alright, thank you.” You shot him a tired smile, cursing yourself for going to bed that late. A yawn clawed through you, eyes momentarily fluttering close. Perhaps you’d be able to find a few moments of rest, nothing long, though just enough to settle your mind and heart.

It felt like a trick of your brain, focusing on the elbow that was slowly pressing against yours, the forearm that met yours on the armrest separating your seats. Your heart was back to jumping in your chest, pounding louder than the rattling noises of the train.

While your mind started overthinking his move, trying to read between the lines, your body seemed to understand what it was supposed to do. All too slow, you placed your head on his shoulder, eyes not daring to flutter open in case you read the signs wrong. A soft exhale of air left the man, hand finding your knee to squeeze your soft skin.

“Get a bit of rest.” His voice successfully managed to lull you to sleep, heart slowly but surely finding a pace that would allow you to rest.

…

“We are here,” a voice shook you softly awake as you realised you had fallen asleep on the man’s arm. You instantly retracted back to your seat, putting as much distance as the train allowed. He looked at you entertained as he stood up, offering you his hand so you could do the same.

You grabbed it slowly, savouring the way his slender long fingers held yours so confidently and got up.

“The hotel is just a 10-minute walk from the station,” Cumberbatch added as he brought down both of your bags from the shelf at the top and then handed you yours.

…

You made sure to fill up the walk with every possible fun fact you had on the city, describing the few monuments you passed by and making sure you to search for your professor’s eyes, incredibly afraid that you had crossed a line by falling asleep on him. He listened to every single one of your words attentively, nodding and smiling as you made the third energy joke in a row.

“We are here,” Cumberbatch finally interrupted you, pointing at a beautiful historic hotel. You exhaled, thankful that soon you would be able to be in your room, away from him, and finally able to think straight.

The two of you entered the hotel and approached the reception, where a pretty, tall girl offered you a smile. “Hi, how are you? We have a four-night reservation under the name Cumberbatch. Two rooms.”

“Mmh… Cumberbatch?” the woman spoke back as she typed the name. A worried expression crossed her face before she looked up, meeting your eyes first and then the professor’s. “I only have one room for two reserved. Not two rooms.”

“That cannot be.” Benedict’s voice was firm and serious as he calmly placed his arms on the front desk.

“I am very sorry. People sometimes get confused when booking from more than one person and assume there are separate rooms.” She spoke politely, showing her best apologetic look.

“I will then pay for an extra room,” Benedict replied, not once turning to look at you.

“We are fully booked,” the woman replied, pressing her lips together, “I am very sorry.”

“There must be SOME available room,” he doubled down before you interrupted him.

“It is fine. We can make it work. The room has a couch, right?” You tried to ease off the tension, smiling at both your professor and the receptionist.

…

“I am so sorry. I have no idea how this mistake could have happened,” Benedict apologised for the tenth time as you reached the elevator, his eyes as soft and heavy as he tried to find a solution to this situation.

“Professor, it is completely fine.” You finally stopped him as the two of you entered the elevator, “there is a couch in the room. I am happy to sleep there.”

“I won’t let you sleep on the couch,” he replied, shocked that you would even think that was an option.

You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to decipher whether this was a dream or your worst nightmare. All you wanted right now was to be alone, to be by yourself, away from the overwhelming need this man filled you with. You had no idea how you would survive sleeping in the same room, regardless of whether it was on a couch, on a bed or on the ground.

The two of you walked towards the room’s door as Benedict bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from apologising again. He opened the door and was met with a queen-sized bed and a tiny minuscule couch. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, turning back around to you to apologise once again, but you stopped him.

“Let’s grab dinner! I heard some people from the conference are also staying at the hotel and grabbing dinner close by! Let’s go!” You patted him on the back and dropped your bag, ready to leave the room and what it would bring in the following days.

His heavy steps pounded against the ground, following you back towards the elevator. An almost uncomfortable silence was now following you two around, urged on by the inappropriate thoughts you both couldn’t shake off. Perhaps dinner would manage to distract the two of you for a moment, letting go of the tension and relaxing in comfortable chairs with other academics close by.

…

“Some more wine?” Benedict’s breath tickled your neck, forcing you to swallow loudly as you wordlessly reached your glass out for him to refill. His gaze was stuck on your features, on the smile you couldn’t stop from widening whenever he spoke up, murmuring facts about the academics you were now surrounded by.

“You have to tell us, (y/n), how does working with a stubborn man like Benedict Cumberbatch work out?” Your chuckles rumbled through you, eyes finding the piercing ones of the man sitting next to you. By now, you have forgotten most facts Benedict had shared with you, could barely remember their names, and yet you tried to play along, elbows placed on the table with your face placed in your hands.

“Let me tell you, it’s an utter nightmare.” Laughter boomed through the evening, through the garden that surrounded a few tables and chairs. The cosy atmosphere that lingered in the restaurant eased some of your tension from earlier, allowing the two of you to breathe calmly. “I am very lucky to have him by my side. No other professor has ever taught me this much.”

The hand of his that was resting on the back of your chair found your shoulder, fingers stroking your skin softly to communicate the gratitude he was feeling. Benedict was all too used to praises, and yet your words had a new meaning to them, making him sit a bit straighter as he began to pay attention to how some of his colleagues looked at you, unable to bite down their curiosity.

“I am the lucky one, I’ve rarely met students as bright as (y/n).” Heat flushed through you, forcing you to take another sip of your wine. You weren’t nearly as tipsy as you wanted to be, unable to accept his praises, the words he spoke that left your insides churning in excitement.

“Be careful, Benedict, otherwise, we may steal her from you.” One of the men sitting close to Benedict spoke the words without much thought, or so it seemed, not expecting the hard expression to widen on Benedict’s features. The professor didn’t reply, eyes searching yours as you shot him a small smile, hand finding his knee before you could give the gesture much thought. His muscles tensed underneath your hand, but before you could even try to move your hand away, he placed his hand on top of yours, squeezing yours.

“We had a long day, we should catch up on some sleep. Have a good evening.” Benedict’s words forced you to your feet, murmuring a soft “Goodbye” to the others. Your breath got stuck in your lungs as Benedict’s hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him as he guided you out of the restaurant. Once again, you felt your thoughts race, focusing on the way his fingers stroked your clothed waist, guiding you through the warm evening towards the hotel.

No further word was spoken as you stepped into the elevator, standing in front of Benedict with your eyes searching his. You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, praying deep inside that he’d finally close the gap. The two of you stood closer than needed, with his hand still placed on your waist and your hand finding his other one. Perhaps this was the moment you had been desperate for years, hoping that he’d finally cross the invisible line between you.

The mere thought of finally feeling his body pressed against yours left heat to fill your veins, heart pounding in your chest. But before either one of you could move again, the elevator came to a halt, forcing the two of you to step out. Only as the darkness of your shared hotel room lured you closer did you begin to realise that the night wouldn’t end like you had hoped it would.

He turned on the light and spoke, “I will take a shower before going to sleep, but don’t wait up for me, sleep well, (y/n). Please take the bed.”

…

Benedict entered the bathroom and left you alone in the bedroom, leaving you to wonder what you had possibly done wrong to ruin such a perfect moment, to stop him from kissing you. You sat on the bed, defeated, as you heard the sound of the shower turning on. Fuck. Maybe it was the alcohol or the burning feeling on your skin, but this felt like too much, too close, too little. It was ridiculous, nothing that deserved you crying over it, yet you could feel your eyes tearing up. The need was too much. He was too much. It almost felt unfair for him to leave you wanting the way he did.

As the sound of the shower stopped just for a second, you snapped out of your pity party, cleaning the tears from your face and getting changed before your professor could exit the room. You opened your bag and searched for your pyjama, only then realising you had brought your nightgown as your only sleeping option. You sighed loudly, covering your face and then dropping your arms to decide.

“Fuck it,” you spoke to yourself as you took off your clothes, putting on the nightgown that barely covered your ass and left little to the imagination for much else. If he could tease you all night, touching your waist, looking at you the way he did, you could do the same and even if he was not interested at all. Even if you had made every sign up in your mind, no man would not at least be tempted by such an outfit.

The bathroom door opened a few seconds later as you were busy folding your clothes back into your bag. You didn’t even dare to turn around to meet his gaze, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment overcome the boldness of the alcohol.

Your professor cleared his throat, and you finally met his gaze, feigning being completely and totally oblivious to what you were wearing. His blue eyes looked almost black by how dilated his pupils were, and you couldn’t help but offer him an innocent smile. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt and some grey pyjama pants.

“I am sorry. I didn’t think I would be sharing my room tonight,” you acknowledged the outfit, walking by his side, brushing his arm just so slightly before entering the bathroom with your toothbrush at hand.

Benedict had to command every single one of his muscles not to turn around, not to look at you walk into the bathroom, not to follow you, to pin you against the sink and fuck you right there.

You left the door of the bathroom open as you brushed your teeth, giving him the possibility to look into to watch as the hem of your nightgown rose high enough to show the curve of your ass. He, however, didn’t. Going straight to his couch and grabbing a pillow and duvet from the cupboard, and laying down.

You exited the bathroom excitedly, hoping to have one more chance to tease him before heading to bed but found him already deep asleep. Facing the back of the couch as he uncomfortably tried to fit within it.

…

POV Benedict

He didn’t dare move, eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapped around his too tall frame for a couch this small. Benedict tried to listen to your breaths, counting them to try and figure out if you were already asleep. His cock was aching, twitching in his boxers in a desperate need to be touched by you.

Fuck, he felt like a young boy, unable to guide his body, to pick up on his needs and urges, and to stop himself from giving in before it got too much. He hadn’t expected you to wear something like this, something that left his heart racing, pumping blood straight to his cock. It was torture, the worst situation he had been forced to live through so far, Benedict was convinced of it.

The second his mind painted a picture of your body pressed against his, he shot up from the couch, searching the false comfort the bathroom offered him, door falling shut with a thud. He could only hope that you were truly asleep by now, not picking up on his movements, the heavy breaths leaving him.

His hand pushed his boxers down his legs, just enough to free his hard cock. Precum was bearding his tip, veins shining through the thin skin, fuck, how much he wanted to feel and see your hands wrapped around him. Would you use your mouth on him? Would you stroke your tongue along the underside of his cock before sucking on his tip?

A heavy moan threatened to leave him, caught seconds before it could echo through the bathroom. His teeth left marks on his lower lip as his hand picked up its pace, fucking himself without any mercy, working on the fleeting time night offered him. Deep down, he hated himself for pushing you away this very night, wondering why he hadn’t given in, why he hadn’t chased the closeness you had been willing to offer. But something had held him back, something he was now regretting.

He couldn’t stop another moan from not leaving him, eyes squeezed shut, head rolled back. His orgasm was close, a desperate need to finally get over the sensations the mere sight of you had pushed through him. Benedict had to stop himself from choking on your name, from talking to the (y/n) he imagined kneeling in front of him.

With one last heavy breath leaving him, white cum began to cover his hand, sticking to his skin. Benedict pumped his cock a few more times before he let go of his cock, settling down on the toilet seat.

…

POV Reader

This night probably counted as the top three worst nights of sleep in your life. You had spent it between nightmares and sweats, waking up every couple of hours, feeling incredibly restless. You were thankful to see that it was already 7 am the next time you were shaken awake by another terrible dream. It took you a second to ground yourself; remember where you were. You instantly turned to the couch and found it empty, the bedsheets of your professor perfectly folded on top of it.

You scanned the rest of the room, sitting up, finding it equally as empty. A mix of disappointment and relief filled your chest as you were equal parts thankful he wouldn’t have to see you with this exhausted face and sad you didn’t even get a glance at how he looked right after he woke up in the morning.

You checked your phone and found a message from him, “Good morning! I wanted to give you some privacy before the big day. I will be waiting for you at the lounge if you want to grab breakfast together.”

You smiled at the message, forgetting all about last night. Everything was okay. The two of you were okay. He was your professor, after all, your rock. He had every right to reject you. Everything was okay.

…

You took your time getting ready, trying the different outfits you had brought as options and opting for the simplest one. Your ‘lucky’ shirt, some black suit trousers, and black stilettos. You exited the room confidently, your bag with your presentation at hand and your earphones in your ears. Your “gameday” playlist playing at full volume.

You entered the hotel lounge, finding your professor sitting on a beautiful leather couch, a newspaper on his lap. He was wearing a white button-up and some navy trousers. You approached him eagerly, removing your earphones and greeting him with a smile, “good morning, professor.”

“Good morning,” Benedict spoke, not meeting your gaze once. Eyes stuck on the newspaper.

“Should we get breakfast?” You kept on the smile, sure, he was just very enthralled by whatever he was reading.

“I have actually already eaten,” he replied with a sigh, intensifying his gaze on the paper. You pouted, disappointed, confused by his sudden coldness. “I have some meetings to attend before your presentation. Do you mind if we meet there already?”

You hesitated in answering, trying to keep the disappointment on your face from turning into clear sadness. He finally looked up, noticing your silence. His eyes were empty, cold like they had never been before.

“Of course,” you finally replied after he raised an eyebrow, “I…I will just go over the presentation by myself.” You had to look away before your eyes started to water, which seemed to pull a reaction right out of you.

Benedict stood up and placed a hand on your shoulder, “you will do amazingly. You are smart and incredible. You don’t need me for this. I will be in the crowd cheering.”

You tried to look at him, thankful that it had just been a small weird moment of coldness, but he had already started to walk away towards the exit of the hotel, leaving you standing there.

…

Were this many people always supposed to be at the event? Had everyone just suddenly realised your topic was cool and decided to listen to you talk? Where was he? You were starting in mere minutes, and there were barely any seats left. Where was he?

You squeezed the flashcards in your hands, trying to stop the trembling in your hands. You peeked once again from the stage, searching for him between the rows of mostly middle-aged men.

“You are going up in three,” some random guy with an earpiece said as you nodded emphatically, shutting your eyes and trying to control your breathing.

You stayed there for a couple of seconds, controlling your breathing, reminding yourself that this was your research. That you could do this alone. That you didn’t need anybody else. You were about to open your eyes when a hand on your shoulder startled you. Blue. All you saw was blue for a second until you could focus on the rest of his face. He had changed. He was wearing your lucky colour.

“Everything will be fine,” Benedict nodded softly, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as he seemed slightly out of breath.

“You are here,” you exhaled the words out.

“I am sorry, I-” he lowered his gaze in shame, but he was stopped by the earpiece guy announcing you were up. “You can do this. You are smart. Your research is incredible, and you are so incredibly charismatic that I wouldn’t be surprised if every professor in the room would try to steal you after this. Go show them how amazing you are. I am here.”

You nodded emphatically, instinctively pulling him into a hug and burying your face in his chest just for a second, feeling as he stiffened under your touch. You let go of him and nodded a little more, breathing in and out and walking onto the stage.

…

“Thank you, everyone, for listening,” you closed your presentation as the room broke into a myriad of applauses, a feeling of euphoria filling your chest as you turned to look to your professor, that stood still behind the curtain, giving you the most idolising smile you had ever seen.

You walked out of the stage with a gigantic smile straight towards your professor, whose hands immediately cupped your face, “that was incredible.”

“Thank you,” you looked up at him, immediately filled with all that tension that had been there the night before.

You were interrupted by a group of listeners approaching, and Benedict immediately moved away from you, looking down, realising the inappropriateness of his proximity. It felt as if this moment managed to rip you out of your trance, the bubble of excitement and happiness had popped, and once again doubts began to fill your mind. You were hurt, sad, and angry that Benedict hadn’t been there to support you through the hours leading up to your talk, hiding away from you rather than murmuring comforting words.

Whatever game he was playing, it was a game you found no pleasure in, growing antsy as you began to overthink what had happened in the past hours. From the second he had told you about the conference, Benedict had promised that he’d be with you on that very special day. He’d guide you like a mentor, like a friend, empty promises you were now clinging to. The ship had left the harbour, but the waves of anger had ripped it to the cold ground before the crew could swim to safety. Swimming had always been easy with Benedict near, but drowning had felt so much easier today.

…

The glass of champagne felt cold against your palm as you let your eyes wander. You were able to spot a few familiar faces in the crowd of scientists you were trapped in, celebrating your and their success. Benedict stood close to you, focused on the conversation he had been pulled into, unable to escape before the others had noticed him.

“An impressive talk, (y/n), I hope you’re proud of yourself.” One of the men you and Benedict had dined with yesterday evening was now standing in front of you. He was handsome, almost as tall as Benedict, but his eyes didn’t have that mesmerising blue colour you’d always recognise, his hair wasn’t brown like the coffee Benedict would bring you whenever you helped him grade essays, and his hands weren’t as big as the ones you wanted to feel on your body.

“Thank you! I am very happy about the crowd’s reaction to it.” A smile tugged on your lips as you took a sip, buying yourself some time. Fading seconds Benedict used to study you, the fake smile he instantly saw through, the slightly uncomfortable shifting of your weight from one leg to the other. He stepped closer, hand trying to come to rest on your waist, but you pulled away before he could touch you. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll get myself another drink.”

You felt his eyes burning through your back, standing on the spot you had been standing on seconds ago, jaw muscles clenched. With every step you took away from him, your heart picked up its pace, pounding in your ribcage, fuelled by your anxiety and anger. Why did he have to be so cold towards you this morning? Why did he have to chase the distance rather than finally closing the small gaps between you?

Slowly you made your way through the crowd, holding onto your refilled glass with an iron grip. You weren’t nearly as tipsy enough as you wanted to be, pouring down big gulps to try and get rid of the tension that held your system hostage. Piercing blue eyes found yours from afar, wordlessly guiding you closer, surrounded by men and women you haven’t met before.

“May I introduce you to my wonderful (y/n)?” Benedict’s voice had a strange undertone to it, pronouncing your name with a newfound possessiveness dripping from it. This time you didn’t get to pull away as his hand gripped your waist, pulling you into his side. Your thoughts were racing as fast as your heart, but you tried to smile at the people that now shook your free hand, eyes not wandering from your features. Benedict’s fingers kept boring into your skin, not giving you the slightest chance to even try and escape him.

Only as the people moved on, finding new conversations to get lost in, did you manage to free yourself. With your gaze set on your glass, you took a step away from him and another before his patience seemed to snap. His big hand came down on your wrist, the other took your glass from you to place it down on the nearest table before he started pulling you through the room.

“Where are we going?” He ignored your question, pulling you outside into the hallway.

“What is going on with you? You’re behaving like a child.” Benedict’s words cut right through you, forcing a scoff from you. For a second, you allowed yourself to study him. His eyes no longer reminded you of a cloudless blue sky, but rather an angry storm threatening to unleash its power, fuck, why was he still so very handsome.

“I’m the one behaving like a child? You left me hanging this morning, even though you promised not to leave me alone before the talk!” He clenched his jaw, eyes growing even darker as he took a step closer, towering over you.

“Is that how you speak to your supervisor? I’d be careful of my tone if I were you.” You barely recognised his voice, dark and husky, leaving your thighs clenching and your hands shaking. Even though you were angry at him, so fucking angry, you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to his lips, wanting to feel them pressed against yours.

“Are you threatening me? You know what, fuck you, Benedict!” The words left you before you could stop them from rolling off your tongue, trying to turn away from him with hurried steps. But you didn’t get far, pulled against his hard chest with one of his hands cupping your warm cheek and the other resting on your waist. For a few seconds, Benedict studied you with dilated pupils and heavy breaths spluttering from his thin lips. Seconds that passed by all too slowly, torturing you and your racing heart. Something seemed to give him the final push, lips meeting yours before you could speak another word.

Your mind didn’t get any time to focus on the situation, guided by your body, by the way your lips moved in sync with his. For years you had tried to imagine what kissing Benedict may feel like, but this was a new sensation, something raw, something full of emotion, something you were addicted to from the first second on. Your hands found his suit jacket, clinging to him for dear life as if you were scared he’d part from you way too soon.

His tongue moved along your lower lip, coaxing a moan from you. The kiss grew more heated with every passing second, relishing in one another’s touch, the beats of your racing hearts, the blood rushing through your veins, a beautiful mixture. Benedict slowly parted from you to catch his breath, staring down at you with a smirk, an expression that left your insides churning in anticipation. With his hand finding yours, he wordlessly pulled you down the hallway towards the elevator that would take you up to the floor of your room.

Was this it? Was this the moment you had thought of too many times to count? Was this the moment you had thought of as your wandering hands took care of the ache between your legs?

The second the doors of the elevator started to close, you were pulled in for another kiss, pressed against the mirror you didn’t dare look at. You could only guess that you looked like a mess, hair tousled, lips swollen, eyes wide – all because of the man that couldn’t stop touching you.

“I,” Benedict murmured against your lips, hands toying with the fabric of your lucky shirt, struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry for being this cold towards you, I still struggle with what you make me feel, and with the power my position holds over you, I don’t ever want you to think that I’m using you. You need to know, if you want me to stop, you can always say so.”

His thumb ran along your swollen lips, unable to bite down his smile as you pressed a kiss to his digit. The elevator came to a halt, allowing the two of you to find your way to your hotel room, pushed inside by his big hand finding your lower back. Benedict didn’t let you get far, hands pulling you against his chest, eyes getting lost in yours.

“I need your spoken consent before I touch you.” His lips ghosted over yours, patiently waiting for you to speak up. It took you a few seconds to speak up, unable to concentrate on anything but his touch, the fire he had unleashed inside of you, a fire so daunting he wouldn’t ever be able to tame it.

“Touch me, please, professor.” The use of his title seemed to push Benedict over the edge, growling against your lips as you were guided towards the big bed. His lips found your throat, sucking on the spots that left your toes curling and your heart skipping needed beats. Skilled hands undid the buttons of your shirt, pushing the fabric off your shoulders to expose the lacy lingerie you were wearing. Benedict marveled at you, freezing the moment for seconds as his eyes took in the sight in front of him, wondering how and why he got so lucky.

You murmured his name, snapping him out of his trance, hands working on his shirt. The moment pushed your nerves over the edge, hands struggling to undo the small buttons, signing in relief as he pushed you away, tugging the shirt over his head. Benedict didn’t give you any time to take in his upper body, the muscles you wanted to run your hands across, the freckles and small spots you wanted to kiss, forced down onto the bed. Your professor towered over you, lower lip caught between his teeth as he watched you undo your bra, exposing your breasts to his wandering eyes.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to see you like this, at my mercy, ready to give me whatever I’m asking of you.” His raspy voice left you gasping, eyes rolling back as his hands undid your trousers, helping you out of them. By now, you were only wearing your soaked-through, lacy panties, a sight that could make the blind see again, Benedict was sure of it. A work of art, the finest creation his eyes would ever get to take in. He wanted to take his time with you, wanted to love on every inch of your skin, but his own desperation drove him closer to you, shuffling out of his trousers with hurried movements.

He crawled up your body, flipping the two of you around for you to settle in his lap, feeling his hard cock pressing against your core. Fuck, you were already done for, balancing along the line of your state of pleasure only he’d push you into. His hand found the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss, eyes fluttering close as his free hand found your chest, cupping your breast, tugging on your hard nipple. Moans clawed through you, all too shamelessly, all too freely, unable to hold back the sounds he elicited.

“I knew I'd never be able to hold back once I touched you, and I was scared of losing my control around you.” You knew he was talking about yesterday evening. You knew he was trying to smooth out the wrinkles on your heart he had crumpled like a piece of paper, and yet you couldn’t focus on them. You kissed him again, murmuring a soft “I need you, professor” against his lips.

His strong hands found your hips, grinding your core against his clothed cock, making your breaths get stuck in your lungs. The both of you were close to snapping, skipping the foreplay just to feel one another, and yet Benedict tried to hold back, not wanting to end your moment together this fast. Your legs quivered, the feeling he pushed through you with the grinding movements left your walls clenching around nothing, forcing a “More, please” out of you.

“Ask for it properly, you know how to be a good girl for me.” Benedict’s teasing words left you whining, eyes fluttering close as he stopped your movements, holding still to patiently wait for you to express your every need.

“Want your cock, fuck, need you inside of me.” A growl was forced out of Benedict, flipping you around once again, panties forced down your legs before your mind could even begin to catch up with his movements. With your body fully exposed to him, you were lying beneath him, staring up at him with lust-blown pupils and your teeth buried in your lower lip. His big hand found your core, brushing his fingers through your folds, moaning as he felt your wetness. You were dripping for him, body showing him how much you needed his touch, how desperate you were for him, for his fingers, for his cock.

His soft fingers circled your pulsing bundle of nerves, forcing your back to arch and your hands to fist the fabric of the blanket you were laying on. Benedict found himself obsessing over your sounds, hoping that he’d get to coax them out of you for endless nights to come, very well aware that he’d never be able to part from you and your bond again.

“Oh fuck, don’t stop.” He had pushed two fingers into your tightness, curling them against your swollen spot. Both of you knew that he was teasing you, fucking you all too slow, wanting to prolong the moment for as long as possible. Curses rolled off your tongue, forcing one of your hands to find his forearm, nails clawed into his skin, set on leaving marks he’d have to hide for the next few days.

“So desperate for me, so pretty, I knew you’d be perfect for me.” His praises left your skin growing warmer, eyes unable to meet his intense gaze. You felt your orgasm growing closer, wanting to let go, giving room to the intense sensation you were aching for. But just a second before you could give in with his name rolling off your tongue, Benedict let go of you.

Your eyes snapped open, staring at him with parted lips and furrowed eyebrows, a moment of confusion passed as you watched him reach for his wallet, pulling out a silvery foil packet. His eyes searched yours as he pulled his cock free, boxers left on the ground next to your panties; you couldn’t pay any attention to the fabric, eyes wandering down his naked frame, taking in the sight of his hard cock. His tip was flushed red, length twitching in his grasp, close to combusting.

“Are you sure about this? We can always stop.” Benedict was once again towering over you, not daring to move as he stared down at you. With one hand, you pulled him down to you, lips finding his as you murmured a soft “Fuck me”. Skilled fingers rolled the condom down his cock, aligning himself with your entrance before he slowly pushed into you. The both of you had to halt for a moment, eyes squeezed shut to take in the new feeling, adjusting to the tightness of your walls to the size of his cock.

“Move, please.” Your command was met with a groan, building a slow rhythm that took a few thrusts for you to get used to. The moans that tried to claw through you were held back by your pressed-together lips, not wanting to give your loud sounds enough room to reverberate through the thin four walls you were surrounded by, something Benedict easily picked up on.

“Don’t hold back, let me hear you, love.” The use of the nickname broke the dam, allowing your sounds to rumble through you. Your nails left marks down his back, scratching at his skin in a desperate try to hold onto him. His hips met yours with every thrust, forcing himself deeper into you, needing to etch this every moment into your mind. “You’re doing so well, my pretty girl.”

The second his tip met your swollen spot, you choked on your gasps, letting go of a high-pitched “Oh god”, very well knowing that you’d cum all too soon. Benedict’s smile began to widen as he picked up on your desperation, fingers finding their way back to your clit. You gripped his shoulders as your orgasm began to rock through you, filling your every pore, overtaking your whole body.

Benedict fucked you through your high, getting lost in your pleasure and drunken features, feeling his own high filling his body. He gave it a few more thrusts before he came, holding still as his cum filled the condom.

…

The rest of the week was spent between conferences, lingering touches, and long nights of fucking. Benedict could barely keep his hands away from you when you were in public. His eyes were always searching for you when you weren’t by his side. His hands perpetually on your waist as the two of you made small talk with other academics. Sometimes you couldn't make it until the night, sneaking into an empty hallway, a bathroom, back to your room. He was addicted to you, and you could barely believe all your dreams had finally come true.

It was safe to say your grading sessions were never the same again. They mostly occurred in his house now, and they included dinner and a couple of fucking-breaks. They weren’t as efficient but significantly more fun.

#Benedict Cumberbatch smut #Benedict Cumberbatch imagine #professor fic #doctor strange #bbc sherlock #Benedict Cumberbatch x you

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brunchable · 2 years

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A Touch of Jealousy [Request] || Doctor Strange x F!Reader.

Word count: 5.4K. Poisonous Touch (Part Two). Summary: Stephen reminds you, who your husband is. Warning: SMUT OVER 18s ONLY. Domineering acts, edging, oral (female receiving), fingering, belt spanking, unprotected p & v sex, rough sex, creampied. Request: Written for @sherlux Strictly do not: claim, repost, copy, translate my stories anywhere else. A/N: So... jealous Stephen? Anybody?

Following Stephen's victory against his evil double and Wanda, America has taken you and Stephen back to the reality from which you both originated. Following his request to be left alone with you, the Sanctum was now completely empty save for the two of you. He then turned his attention to you and fixed you with the most icy of eyes before immediately throwing you over his shoulder.

"Stephen! What the heck are you doing?" He did not respond to you in any way; rather, he continued to move about the residence. You entered the bedroom slamming the door shut violently, and all you could think to say was, "Stephen." You hated the fact that you enjoyed what was happening, but you couldn't help anticipate what he was about to do to you.

You fell with a bounce on the bed as he tossed you down, and his shadowy figure proceeded to lean over you as his piercing eyes watched your every movement as he stood over you.

You said to him, "Stephen, I'm exhausted," as your thoughts drifted towards the idea of kissing him.

"And I don't care." He began to stoop down more towards you. Before you could even react, his warm lips had already taken hold of yours. You let out a groan as your hands rushed to his neck and began clutching strands of his hair. As his body left yours, he groaned into your touch as his hands moved around your arms and brought them over your head.

"What ar-" You asked confusedly.

"You honestly think I was going to allow you to touch me? Hmm? After you behaved like a fucking whore?" He questioned and tutted, he moved away from your body entirely and went over to the dresser that was next to the bed. You listened as the pace of your heartbeat increased. He pulled out a black burberry tie, which you didn't even know he owned. Your eyes widened as he quickly returned to your side and grabbed both of your wrists, pulling them up to the level of your head.

"W-what on earth are you doing?" You mumbled under your breath as he secured your wrists to the bedpost.

"I'm punishing you," When you heard those words, your whole body trembled, and a chill raced down your spine. "Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn't appear quite so eager." He tightened his hold on your hands to be absolutely certain that you would not be able to escape.

"Why is that?" You made a whimpering sound while licking your lips.

"You're not supposed to like or enjoy this. You have been a naughty girl, shown by the fact that you loved fucking that other version of myself, in front of me." He reached out and ran his palm over your neck while the darkness in his eyes deepened.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you angry; all I wanted to do was rescue you." While you relished the sensation of his touch on your flesh, you made an attempt to escape.

He pressed both of your cheeks closer together, "You really didn't think that I would get upset at you fucking someone else? No?" You groaned in response to what he said.

“Given the gravity of the situation, I was under the impression that you wouldn't give a damn about it.” You wanted to test your ability to enrage him since you now, knew that furious and forceful sex is the most satisfying. His grasp on your cheeks tightened.

"I don't like sharing what's mine." He growled. He pressed his lips back to yours again as his hands began to travel down to harshly grip your hips as he pushed himself against you. This kiss was rougher than any of the others, it was more urgent. As his tongue slipped into your mouth, his large fingers snaked their way under your shirt, making their way up to your stomach.

You whined loudly as you wanted to touch him, your husband, you craved it. Stephen grumbled against you as he scrunched the fabric of your top in his fists and tore it in half, exposing your black lace bra.

"Stephen!" You gasped, but he ignored you. He let out a snarl, his fingers were quick to relieve you of your bra as he threw it and your torn shirt on the floor. You threw your head back as he kissed down your jaw and neck.

His tongue started to move over the delicate surface of your breast as his lips began to suckle it. This prompted your back to arch. Your lips never ceased moaning during the whole session. As you continued to fight against the tie, you noticed that it was starting to cause discomfort in your wrists.

"Stephen.." You moaned, and you felt him smile as he resumed his job sucking till your breasts were painful, "Please." You begged, you wanted—no, you need him to go lower. You desired for him to see how damp you are and how much your body yearned for his presence.

"No speaking. Unless it's me you're referring to." He gave the command, his voice crackling with the pent-up rage he'd been suppressing. Your eyes widened but you nodded. His fingers then wrapped around your hips, as he began to take your pants off. Your underwear came next, and the frigid air in the room caused you to gasp as Stephen parted your legs, exposing your dampness to him.

"Oh darling, you’re going to make a mess." When he realised how wet you were, he let out a groan. His hands on your thighs, he began to give you a series of gentle kisses that moved from one to the other.

"Stephen!" You let out a shocked sigh as his lips finally made contact with your clit, which he then kissed several times before sucking on and as you allowed yourself to be overcome by pleasure, your eyes started to close.

A smack to the inner thigh caused you to rapidly open your eyes, and when you looked down, you saw the man smirking to himself in the space in between your legs.

"Eyes open, darling," He ordered, "I want you to see who is making you feel so amazing." You whimpered in response to his low grumbling voice, which matched those remarks.

He stroked his tongue over your slit, and as soon as you started to quiver, he clamped down even harder on your legs. He brought his hand to your folds and separated them.

"You have such a pretty cunt." He moved in for another kiss on your moist cunt and leant in closer, but you needes something else.

"Fingers. Please, Stephen."

Once again, he smacked you on the thigh. "What did I say to you?" He got up and walked over to his dresser, his body once again became disconnected from yours. As soon as you saw the colour pink, you were aware of what he was about to get. You became nervous.

"You need to be reminded who you're married to, haven't you?" He mumbled under his breath as he moved back in between your thighs. He activated the pink orb with a flick of a switch and pushed it to your clit, sending harsh vibrations to go throughout your body, "I don't think I can ever punished you enough." He smirked as he saw you struggling against the ties.

He bit his lips as he slid one of his fingers inside your cunt, which resulted in an increase in the level of pleasure. You began to screaming as you were completely absorbed in the experience.

"You don't deserve to come yet." After he said that, your eyes immediately widened in response, "I think I should edge you two times." While he was talking, he inserted another finger, roughly to pumping his two mid-fingers inside you rapidly. As you got closer and closer to your high, your thoughts became cloudy and blank.

You clenched and tightened around his fingers, and you were almost ready to come forwards when everything came to a standstill. You started whining as he took the vibrator and his fingers away from you. He sucked his fingers by bringing them up to his lips, putting them to his mouth, "Hmm~ So sweet."

You gave Stephen a dirty look before looking away, feeling ashamed.

He leant over you and compelled you to look at him while saying, "Oh, don't be angry, you brought this to yourself." You showed displeasure at his comments, you wanted to win his approval, and you desired to show submission to your spouse so that he may ravish you.

He kissed you tenderly, and his tongue moved slowly around the inside of your mouth. As you gasped into his lips, his fingers were back where they had been on your folds. While one of his arms curled around your waist, he started pumping two of his fingers in and out of your hole while the other arm brought you closer to him.

"I own this little cunt. No one else's," You moaned at his possessive behaviour as he leant in close to whisper something in your ear, "Only I am able to touch you in such a way. I am the only one who has the ability to touch you and fuck you to the point where you won’t be able to walk. Do you understand?"

You nodded as your body began trembling as he quickened his pace.

"I said, do you understand?" He repeated.

"I-I und-derstan-nd." You swallowed the thick drool inside your mouth and could barely answer back.

"Say it," He growled in your ear, his grip tightening.

"My little cunt is yours. Only yours. No one else's."

"Of course it is." He had you wrapped around his fingers and his lips had finally found their way back to yours. You felt the growing of your ecstasy, and you strained once more against his binds as you felt the closeness of releasing.

Even though Stephen could tell you were getting closer, he didn't slow down his fingers. You groaned even more loudly than you had previously as you continued to strain violently against the bonds, which caused your legs to quiver. While Stephen's fingers were pounding away at you, Stephen's thumb was on your clit and he was rubbing it furiously. You let out a cry of delight since you were so near to the feeling the sweet ecstacy. Instantaneously, you were able to regain control of your hands once the knot gave way. When he stopped moving, your eyes widened in response.

"I'm sorry." You spoke in a low voice.

"No, you're not." You knew he was right but he could've tied it tighter?

"Face down. On the bed. Now," He said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of anger. You began to move to get on your hands and knees, but before you did, you turned around to stare at him as he pushed his trousers down, exposing his incredibly perfectly sculpted cock.

"Did I say look at me? Down. Now." He grasped your hips, drove his knees into the backs of your knees, placed one arm across your waist, and then used a steady hand to push you over so that you were bending over at the waist and then you saw him reaching for something on the nightstand.

You inhaled deeply and then gently released the air from your lungs. When the folded leather belt made contact with your flesh, you both felt and heard a smacking sound. You took another blow from him. You screamed out. After giving the region a little petting with his free hand, he continued to strike you afterwards.

"Do you like that?" He asked, with some hesitance in his voice.

"Yes." You responded with each fresh whack that was delivered. You gave a little buck as he slapped you skin while rubbing his hand softly all over your ass and stroking the stinging region between swats. However, he did not stop slacking you.

The moans that were emanating from you became more loud. Once again, your hips began to move, and he immediately stopped. You were freed from his grasp when he assisted you in climbing higher onto the bed. He leant forwards and bit you firmly on the hip. You squirmed away. He grabbed you, dragged you back to the spot where you were, and struck you on the rear end once again.

"Where are you going?" He asked, and reached two fingers into your cunt from behind.

"I.." You were completely at a loss for words. He was absolutely filling you up and stretching you out on the inside. You could feel how wet you were.

"Do you like THAT?" He asked and shoved another finger inside.

"YES." He removed his fingers from you and proceeded to nibble and suckle on your ass cheeks while they were still in his grasp.

He ran his nails all over your thighs, cheeks, hips and up your back. He started groping you, twisting the thick of your ass in his hands and pulling at you. This was in line of a wild massage. You weren't fond of it at first, but he spiced things up by playing with your clit with his fingers, biting and swatting you, and so on.

Before you knew it, he was devouring you. He didn't waste any time stretching it out and jamming his tongue inside before trying to fuck you with it. He had three of his fingers stuck within you and you bucked your hips, applying intense pressure inside you. You had risen to a higher level at this point, and you had entirely lost contact with the discomfort that it ought to have caused. You could tell that he was stroking his own cock since the bed was shaking as he did this, and he instructed you to reach down and stroke your clit while pumped the cock you wanted to touch so badly.

"Would I be that easy on you?" He asked, with the same icy demeanour and authoritative tone as before. You rubbed harder. "Would I be that light? Harder." You obliged, despite the fact that the beat didn't feel as wonderful as your regular one, but you didn't worry about this at all. It was pushing you to your breaking point. You could feel yourself tighten on him.

"Roll over,” He said, lifting up, pulling his hand out of you. You turned over and instantly spread your legs out for him, at which point he reached his hand up for you to suck some of your fluids off of him. His voice remained icy even as he established eye contact with you once again, "Are you mine?" He probed your clit with his thumb while asking the question.

You had the need to shut your eyes, tilt your head back, and writhe about in response to the pressure, but you resisted the urge and instead gazed into his eyes while firmly responding "Yes."

"Say it," He said in a tone that was forceful, frigid, and demanding.

"I'm yours. ALWAYS. Yours." You repeated it, and he slipped his cock into your cunt after covering it with fluids while rubbing himself against your slit. Your body contorted in discomfort as you realised that you would have to bear with his enormity for far longer than you had anticipated. He halted exactly where he was. He was aware that he shouldn't go too far, too quickly. At this stage, the discomfort was manageable but it was definitely still there.

You couldn't help but move your fingers in a looping motion around your clit. Everything felt fantastic. At first, he rocked quite gently in order to stretch you out more. You felt more and more pleasure from him, so he slid deeper and deeper with every few moments. Finally he was fully inside of you, you were writhing in excruciating delight in response to his thrusts. He was picking up the pace and going for a deeper roll with his hips as he did so. You continued to rock into him, insatiably craving more of him. You were acting really wildly.

"You're mine," He said again, not wanting a response. Your eyes were locked into his while his cock abuses your insides. He reached down to remove your fingers from your clit and then seized control as the expression on his face changed reflecting the pure pleasure of being inside of you. He realised you were in such an elevated level of pleasure from the rise he gave to your threshold of pain, that felt too great for him to quit doing it even though he knew you felt the sting.

"Yes," You let out a little cry as he continued to drive you beyond your limits. When you reached out to touch him, you saw that he seemed to be losing layers of hurt and rage. You were sceptical that he would ever put it into words.

He drew back and thrust. Your bodies met with a slap. You whimpered and sighed—it was sudden, but pleasurable.

While his hands were delicately curled around your neck, he said, "Harder?" The slap of his body against yours was followed by a groan from deep inside your throat, and he pulled back again, pushed with more effort, and then asked, "Harder?" after the slap of his body against yours.

You inhaled deeply, held it for a while, and then exhaled slowly as you saw him rock from side to side while holding himself inside of you. You hadn't prepared yourself for how different things really turned out to be. It was thrilling, but it still hasn't sunk in that Stephen's possessive nature was much more intense than you had anticipated.

You felt a warmth like to that of the sun spread throughout your body as he plunged and assaulted your cunt again and again with the same force. He moved slowly but steadily. You let out a scream as he pushed your head and neck farther into the mattress. You attempted to concentrate your attention to his rhythm while also taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. You were frightened, but the pain was a mild, humming pain, and the pressure was manageable even if Stephen was slightly pushing too hard against your windpipe.

"You want me to fuck you harder?" He waited for an answer.

"Y-yes," You managed to say as you held onto his veined wrists.

"Beg me, (Y/N). Beg me to fuck you harder." He was fingers held your throat firmly, the restriction on your airflow intensifying. But you didn't want him to stop.

You moaned the following second as he entered you with a swift, brief buck of his hips and murmured, "Fuck me harder, please."

After a few more fast thrusts forwards, he straightened his back, and he released his grasp on your neck so that he could hold your hips while he fucked you. As soon as you were free from his hold, you drew a long breath and coughed. At the same time, his thrusts continued to propel you forwards and a distinct pleasure built between your legs. You elevated your gaze and strained your eyes to view his face, which was flushed and contorted as a result of the effort. You could see that he was attempting to hold back, because he wanted more.

"Harder?" he asked, his jaw clenched. He reached one hand forward and grasped your wrists and used them as leverage to thrust a little more vigorously. You could hear his impatience in his voice, "Answer me."

"Yes," You gasped. "Harder, please. Fuck me harder, Stephen."

As he continued to bury himself further and deeper, the bed underneath you began to shake. You were able to feel the flesh of your ass spring at each penetration, and you knew that Stephen was concentrating his attention there, watching his cock get sucked in by your cunt. He strengthened his grasp on your wrists, tugging hard against the momentum of his hips, and he discovered a rhythm, punctuated by his quick breathing and your increasingly desperate cries.

You’ve never seen Stephen get so rough with you before, not any of the hundred times you'd imagined it. Your fantasies had been thrilling and you'd varied the scenarios, but they'd all been romantic. Your lustiest fantasies failed in comparison to the reality of this violent fucking, driven by jealousy and punishment. Stephen was sensual and patient and he’d always has been the same sexually. Sex with him usually consisted of kisses lasting and the caresses lingering. Always moving as one, wrapped in each other's arms in the bed, beneath the sheets.

Nevertheless, you couldn't deny that Stephen turned you on. Your skin was flushed, your mouth was dry, and your brain was swimming with confused excitement. At the same time, tension was building up inside of you, and it was that familiar urgent pain that had you groaning and grabbing at the sheet on the bed.

Stephen abruptly pulled his cock out of you without warning as he rolled onto his back and led you to go on top of him, drawing you close into his arms. You kissed for a few seconds and he snaked a hand down between you, taking his cock into his hand. His other hand nudged your hips away from his and without thinking about it, you rose, shifted and positioned yourself so the head of his cock touched the entrance to your cunt. He heaved a sigh, grasped both of your hips in his hands, and urged for you to go down on him. You led him all the way inside and then sat up with your legs spread out around his hips while altering the angle of your pelvis so that his cock could penetrate you more deeply.

You gazed down at Stephen, who was smiling lustfully with his lips apart and reaching for you at the same time. "Kiss me," He ordered.

You leant over and felt a nice change in the pressure that he was applying inside of you. You followed his instructions and brought your lips to his, at which point he held your head in his hands and kissed you passionately. When he did this, his hips would move underneath you and push upward.

When you began to move your hips in response, he pressed his hand across your lips and whispered, "Don't move.”

As he began raising his hips and thrusting himself into you with short, fast thrusts, you stopped moving and clutched the surface of the bed. His rapid breathing began almost instantly, and the expression that appeared on his face made it very clear that he was lost in his arousal. He kissed you, and as he did so, his tongue made a rough stroke in between your lips.

"Are you coming?" He panted, still thrusting into you. "I want to see that expression on your face again."

"Not yet," You said truthfully.

He kissed you again and pushed his hips high, holding them against you for a second.

"Touch yourself," He said. He returned his hips to the surface of the bed in a very measured manner. "Stroke that pussy, (Y/N)."

You slipped a hand between the two of you and were taken aback by how wet you were. You jumped as your finger lightly went across your clit, and Stephen grinned a hungry smile at the same time.

"That's it, baby," he said softly. "Stroke yourself."

He studied at you for a while as you slipped your fingers all over your folds and then slid them down so that you could feel his cock penetrating you. He smiled. After that, he moved, pressing himself against you so that your hand was caught between the two of you. As he entered you, his hips gave a strong buck, and you let out a scream as he filled you in.

"Keep stroking your clit." His voice was full of lust as he watched you react to your own touch. "God, you're sexy when you do that."

You let out another scream, excited by what he had said, and you stroked yourself more frantically. His hands went to cover your breasts as he continued to press himself further and farther inside you. The ecstasy was reaching its peak, and you let out a scream. Stephen pushed you to continue, but his words were hardly audible above a whisper. You moaned and panted while letting your fingers fly over your clit.

You started to move your hips in an attempt to ride him, but he reached down and grabbed your head once in his hands. Because of the force with which he held you, you felt a surge of panic go through your body.

“Don't move," He hissed and admonished you sternly, "Don't move." He brought your mouth down to his again and for a second neither of you moved. "Stroke your clit, (Y/N). Nothing else." The expression that he had in his eyes was terrifying, yet exhilarating all the same.

"That's it, baby. I can feel your pussy getting tighter." He licked his bottom lip as he watched you stroke your clit in circular motions, while your cunt kept his cock warm.

You let your fingers swirl and circle once again, and Stephen stared at your face in silence for a few seconds at that time. You moaned and bit your lip, aware of your frustrating need to move your hips, to have him going in and out of your pussy, you could feel the orgasm starting to build up in your stomach.

"Please," You pleaded. "Stephen, daddy…"

He smirked, knowing that you were now very desperate after calling him, ‘Daddy,’ he had a solid grip on your head, his fingers curled so that they drove into your scalp, and he dragged it closer so that your foreheads were in contact with one another.

"Oh daddy, please." You whined but still kept touching yourself in front of him.

He was breathing fast as he watched you, but he didn't respond to your pleas.

"Stephen." You kept whining. You started to move your hips a little, tentatively lowering yourself over his cock. "I'm going to come." While he waited, his whole body was tense, and it was easy to sense it.

"Please," You pleaded again. "Please, Let me come. Please fuck me, Daddy."

He groaned and his hips moved before you even finished the request. They rose and fell in a rapid rhythm and you squealed and concentrated the motions of your fingers, chasing the spot that would start your orgasm. Stephen grasped your head firmly in both of his hands and kept it there. You could see the effort in his face, his arousal and expectation.

"Harder," You moaned and he thrusted so hard your knees left the bed.

He shifted suddenly, pushing you off him and you fell onto the bed, confused and frustrated—You'd been on the verge of coming, right on the edge and he'd stopped you, again. A half second later he was pushing your legs back toward your shoulders and bringing his cock to your entrance again.

He grabbed your hand and brought it back down between your legs. At the first touch, you felt your body tensing inside. You rolled and rubbed your clit as you peered up at Stephen's heated face.

"You like fucking like this huh? You freak," He said, his wild eyes on your cunt as he pushed forward, entering you. "God, you're so tight." He drew back and thrust again, making your legs jump.

"Oh God," You squealed. "Yes, Daddy. Fuck me, fuck my pussy."

You were thrilled by your own remarks, but the expression on his face as he braced himself and started to rock harder was unlike any other emotion you had ever seen. He brushed his palm over your cheek and neck before putting his fingers around your throat and squeezing. Even though there was just a little amount of pressure, you became tight out of alarm.

He didn't move his hand away and he didn't slow his thrusts.

"Stroke yourself again." There was an edge in his voice, an authoritative edge. You stared at him, unsure of what you felt or wanted, but you obeyed. You were almost startled by the sudden recurrence of the throbbing pain after your ecstasy. You swore and crushed your head back against the bed. You felt Stephen's grasp go a little tighter around your neck, and he made an enthusiastic moan while putting a little more power into his thrusts.

"So sexy," he growled. "So fucking sexy."

At that point, you were already shrieking and gasping, with your whole body tensing up in preparation for the release. Stephen's hold on your neck became more firm as he propelled himself forwards, groaning with each stroke. It was painful. However, you like the way it felt.

"I'm so close, so close," You panted.

"Come, baby.." He sounded almost angry, his voice full of force. "I want to feel you come. I want to feel your pussy squeezing my cock."

When you glanced at his face, which was filled with deep animal hunger, and felt the pleasure break. Stephen's hand released your throat, and you gasped, writhing and squirming beneath him as the intensity of his thrusts and your quaking pussy overwhelmed you. You heard yourself whimpering and locked eyes with Stephen. "Oh baby," he breathed. "Hmm. I feel you coming, baby."

As he kept himself within you while you were orgasming, his face contorted in a way that conveyed both pleasure and agony. He was holding himself in while you were having a climax.

"I'm going to come soon," He said. He started moving again, quickly returning to the pace and intensity of a few moments before. "Inside you," he gasped. "Inside your gorgeous little cunt." His jaw was set as he fucked you, using the bounce of the bed against the momentum of his thrusts to penetrate you deep and hard.

He suddenly shifted your legs, bringing your hips off the surface of the bed, driving his cock even deeper. His fingers dug into your hips, fingertips hard on your hip bones, and he filled you again and again, panting hard. He swore, and bucked forward, grabbing you violently. He buried himself deeply in you while moaning and throwing his head back as his thrusts abruptly slowed down.

"Oh God, argh—." You felt the tremble in his hips and the pulse at the entrance to your cunt as his cock jumped, spurting jet after jet of cum, filling you up.

It seemed as if he was coming for a very long time, pulsating inside you; then, a second later, he swooped down on you and kissed your lips. His kisses were passionate, breathy, and grateful all at the same time. You encircled his neck with your arms, shivering all over as the powerful release spread throughout your body.

He continued to kiss you over and again as he held you in his arms for a whole minute. His chest was hot against yours, and his heart was pounding. When he slid out from between your legs, he ran a gentle touch over your hip and thigh. As his breathing slowed, he slid onto his side and kissed you gently while he was there.

"Was I too rough? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He pressed his mouth to yours, looking at you with a familiar expression of concern.

You shook your head. "You didn't hurt me," You said, and realised it was true. A few times, you had been surprised and terrified, but even though there had been pain, it was nothing that would last for an extended period of time. In spite of your fear, you found that you loved it, even if his hard treatment and those brief minutes of control had caused your head to spin and your pussy pulse. "I loved it… but I think I wouldn’t be able to walk properly now." You admitted.

Stephen chuckled, “Don’t worry, I can carry you around the Sanctum.”

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starssaroundmyscarssblog · 4 months

Note

Can you write for reader x Sherlock where reader is a little like Elizabeth Bennet, likes to read and paint etc. Singing and all the cultural stuffs and Sherlock has fallen for her too hard?

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍

pairing: sherlock holmes (bbc) x fem!oc

summary: in which sherlock holmes doesn’t catch himself from falling quick enough for jane burbank

word count: 3.04k

warnings: none

a/n: this was my first time writing for a request so i really hope you like it <3 i also made it [x/oc] as i'm more comfortable doing it that way but i tried to stay away from descriptions as much as possible to make this little fic as inclusive as possible too <3

he wanted nothing more than to talk to her, even if it was only a meagre apology for accidentally brushing against her in the library isle. she enamoured him and he hated it, even years later as he held the heavy velvet curtains between two fingers and watched her cross over the road and unlock the door to her flat. john smirked behind his newspaper, "you're doing it again."

"doing what?" sherlock huffed, letting the curtains drape back into place over the window. "saying i'm doing something again would mean i'm repeating the action. what's special about me standing by the window." he stalked through the flat and flung himself into an old wooden chair by the kitchen table, seething over his frustration.

he hated it when john was right. nothing frustrated him more than his closest friend seeing right through him as if he were a spirit. more often than not, when he was sulking about not having cases or waiting for results from his less-than-ethical experiments, sherlock would find himself rooted to the floor by the window. sometimes he would play his violin slow and mournful, sometimes he would stand in plain sight.

it would stun him when the sunlight bounced off the wire frame of her glasses, the reflection shooting through her window and right back to his. sherlock found it hard to concentrate on anything else when she would sit in her arm chair with a cardigan that on anyone else would have looked ugly but on her the bright colours did nothing but compliment her. she always had a pen or pencil or paint brush hidden away in her hair, and occasionally she would reach up and fiddle with it as she thumbed delicately through the pages of her book.

sherlock looked up from concentrating hard on the surface of the table when his phone buzzed him his pocket, and he pulled it out. his smile became visible against his will.

you're doing it again, if you want to come over you only have to ask

within minutes he was at the door, ripping off his burgundy dressing gown and trading it out for his thick and heavy belstaff. at john's call of "where're you off to all eager?" he simply shouted "out" as he clattered down the thin staircase. sherlock was out of the door and crossing the road faster than he was able to think, knocking sharply on the blurred stained glass window set into her front door.

there was a crash from inside, a mutter of swearing as she pulled back the door to reveal her haphazard state. sherlock stared dumbly at her, trying to ignore the red splatter of paint on her neck dripping onto her chest, searching for words as when he opened his mouth it turned dry. "you didn't ask," she said, but stood back to let him into her house anyway.

sherlock walked in through the hall, catching himself casting his gaze over the walls like he did every singe time. the university diploma sat pride of place over the mantlepiece of the fireplace in the living room reading 'ba joint honours in history and history of art awarded to jane burbank, graduating with a first from the university of edinburgh'

next to it was a framed photo of the pair of them stood together at a mutual friend's wedding the previous year. sherlock had gone along begrudgingly when he'd found out that jane was attending the party after the ceremony because her cousin was the maid of honour for the bride. they were both standing outside of the venue side by side, smiling into the lens as one of the flower girls was messing with the petal confetti in her small wicker basket in the background.

jane brushed her bangs off her eyes as she moved around the airy living room, shoving wooden crates of paint back into place on the shelf and moving her latest canvas out into the garden to dry completely. sherlock stood awkwardly in his coat and ran his finger under the collar of his shirt sitting tightly against his neck. she stared at him as she returned, wiping a paint stain off the hem of her white dress as she did so.

"sherlock, i don't know why you insist on dressing like a child from the past in the middle of summer." london had been blanketed in a sticky, heavy heat as they hit the peak of august, making being indoors impossible but being outside worse. jane was only glad of her broken window to allow a constant breeze to pass through the ground floor of her house but knew the relief wouldn't last long. it was only a matter of time before the rain came in thick drops and plunged them into everlasting autumn.

he shrugged awkwardly and peeled the coat from his body, and when jane looked at him from behind her easel tucked away in a corner by the bay window he removed his blazer from his shoulders too. sherlock felt too free when he was with her, it scared him, but she made him feel to exhilarated to even care sometimes.

once, when they'd met at a summer research project collating students from different courses at the russel group unis, jane had cleared her throat to catch his attention in the library. at the noise he turned around, still holding the heavy volume, and saw her looking at him through a gap in the shelves perching her chin on the heel of her hands. "hey," jane whispered at him, "d'you want to do something fun?"

sherlock couldn't find his voice to tell her that what he was doing was fun and that he didn't really want to leave the safety of the library that late at night, but her bright eyes sparkling in the fluorescent lights hanging from the high ceiling from exposed wires made him throw caution to the wind and join her on their escapade. jane dragged him to a concert and to this day not one of them could remember who it was they'd seen only that they were rubbish and the cone of chips they'd picked at while walking through a grassy park was much more enjoyable.

he'd been dressed for winter then too, despite the thin linen of his shirt trying to cool him down in the muggy night air. but he couldn't care less about the heat invading his skin or the salt from the chips that caught on his finger tips because he was talking to jane burbank, and it had been all he'd wanted to do since she came bursting into the lecture hall for the summer programme two minutes late in a haze of frazzledness as she pulled down the hem of her summer dress where it had ridden up from her haste.

if he had been a better man he wouldn't have looked down past her neck but he couldn't help himself.

perched on the end of the emerald green sofa shoved against a bright white wall covered in artwork and cheap antique picture frames, sherlock fumed silently like the kettle he wished jane was setting over the stove because he could see john giving him his worst 'i told you so' look from the front window of his flat over the road. jane returned with a silver tray laden with small plates holding biscuits, two empty glasses holding ice and a large pitcher of sparkling orange juice.

"d'you want to go out and do something fun tonight?" jane found herself repeating the words every time she saw sherlock, which wasn't as often as she would have hoped considering she bought her house opposite his flat with his proximity in mind. he was always out sleuthing with john, who she'd seen more, and got on well with.

so was it really any surprise that jane took any chance she could get with sherlock, to make the most of the time they had together. he'd intrigued her all those years ago (it hadn't in-fact been too many years ago since they'd graduated with first honours, but life in the wake of sherlock holmes was long and weary) and still continued to do so now. she was pleased she knew him before he made it big as a 'boffin' in the national press and was even more pleased that he still kept up with her completely opposing lifestyle despite his cold-heartedness and want of plain fact.

with a gleeful grin and a shake of his shoulders as she squealed at his minute nod, jane was away to pack her bag and to grab her sandals before rejoining him at the front door. much to her excitement, sherlock had decided to brave the outside world without the protection of his belstaff, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his blazer was tucked neatly under his arm as he waited patiently for her. "ever practical," she muttered and locked the door behind her. the heat of the day beat down on her exposed shoulders from where she'd pinned her hair up at the back of her head and she pulled her sunglasses over her nose.

they set off and june looked at her watch, "quarter to three, fancy going out for something to eat first?"

"whatever you want to do," sherlock agreed, and sure enough half an hour later they were sat on outside tables for a cafe overlooking westminster watching the people go by. well, sherlock was watching the people go by and jane was peeling away the pastry of a croissant she'd ordered while taking occasional sips of her glass of diet coke. he tapped his fingers against the saucer for his coffee patiently waiting for her to finish so they could leave.

jane wanted to look through the markets in camden for old records before they tried to find a pub for dinner and finished off the day at st james' park to listen to the music drift over them from the live festival happening in hyde park that she didn't get tickets to. she was always asking him if he wanted to do something fun even when she'd planned the day to some kind of degree of legible and sherlock just agreed.

but he did so because jane had asked him to, and anything that was fun to her would be fun for him.

after their intermission at the cafe, where jane had stopped to take some candid photos of some couples she'd seen over the green before turning the lens on an unsuspecting sherlock, they suffered the stuffy carriage of the underground before emerging at camden. jane beelined for stalls selling records and cassette tapes she didn't need because her selection was already overflowing. she picked up a sleeve and turned it to sherlock, grinning, "don't you just love them?"

he smirked before saying, "i prefer blur" only to receive a smack on the shoulder for his admission. by the time they'd left jane had bought enough to put a sizeable dent into her savings account made for paying off her student debt and she was dragging sherlock to an art gallery she noticed was free to the public before they sat down to eat again.

there was something about her wide eyes as they walked around the gallery that sherlock couldn't tear his eyes away from. it might have been the sun shining down on her cheekbones from the glass ceiling or the way she looked like one of the twisted statues in her white dress and delicate sandals or her screwed up face as she focused on something in the background through the lens of her camera. being with jane was a break from the world he'd plugged himself into and he loved every second of it.

sherlock didn't love it as much, however, when they were sat outside (again) at a pub jane liked sharing a bowl of chips while she told him about the awful date she'd had with an awful guy who had an awful name two days prior. his back straightened and something curled in the pit of his stomach as jane told him about the bloke's lacklustre effort of wooing her, especially when he lumped her with paying for dinner and their tube fares back because he'd 'conveniently' left his wallet in a different jacket.

"he wasn't even wearing a jacket, sherlock, i mean can you believe it? i go on one date for the first time in months and he's a total prick!" she picked at a chip and dunked it angrily into the splodge of tomato sauce she'd poured onto the plate before soaking up any vinegar that had been left behind, "is chivalry really dead? i refuse to believe it is."

sherlock made a hoarse noise in the back of his throat before leaving for the bar and returning with a drink to replace jane's third glass of diet coke since they'd sat down. he placed down the cocktail in front of her and felt a flush of pride creep down his back as jane placed her hand over his to thank him earnestly. she took a sip, then another until the entire thing slid down her throat with a sigh of relief.

"i really needed that," she said and giggled to herself. sherlock forgot every time he was with her when she drank that jane was the lightest of lightweights, but when she'd had one she was happy and when jane was happy sherlock was well on the way to being happy too.

another cocktail later and jane had reached her happy medium for alcohol intake - she was blissfully unaware of anything happening outside of the six foot boundary around her but could still hold herself upright and kissed sherlock enthusiastically on the cheek when he caught the bill as a waiter was passing by their table. she laughed all along the path and the whole time the two of them were walking to st james' park.

sherlock didn't make it a habit to carry people around on his back, but when jane looked up at him with a pout and wide glassy eyes he acquiesced and hoisted her onto his back with her ankles locked together just below his navel.

she insisted on getting a cone of chips for old times sake even though they'd eaten enough to fuel an army back at the pub, and jane happily handed over five pounds in cash for a cone and a pot of curry sauce to the woman behind the till. "thank you!" she called out from over her shoulders and sherlock walked through the gates to the park and let her down gently onto the grass where they usually sat.

jane fell forwards and caught herself from landing on her face by her knees, laughing as she slumped forwards onto her chest and propped her chin up into her hands. sherlock sat beside her on his jacket and brushed her bangs out of her eyes, and she felt her skin flush where his fingers had touched. the music from the concert in hyde park eventually reached them just as jane thought it would and she began to hum the tune under her breath as she picked at the chips sherlock was holding out for her.

jane rolled onto her back and felt the blades of grass tickle her shoulders and she moved to make herself comfortable. "we never talk anymore sherlock." she huffed, and tried to reach out and run her fingers over his cheek but stopped when she realised her hands were moving in the completely wrong direction.

"you've been talking all day."

"but i mean you and me. we never talk, i talk at you and you listen."

"i like listening."

"no you don't, you'll out live god trying to get the last word in."

he laughed behind his smile, "i like listening to you."

jane pushed herself onto her feet and sank down again so she was eye to eye with sherlock. he could still see the red splatter of paint along her neck and upon closer inspection he found that the drips had dried throughout the day past the neckline of her already low summer dress. "i wish you would do more than watch and listen to me." she whispered, still tapping out the rhythm of the new song against her knee.

"but i like listening to you and i can't help but watch you. it irritates me." lies.

"no it doesn't."

damn.

before sherlock even had a chance to refute or say anything in his defence, jane's hands were placed gently on either side of his neck and she pulled him forwards to join their lips. jane held him so close that their noses bumped together repeatedly and she had to lean forwards to follow him when he pulled away. "jane!"

"what?" she questioned, finding that she'd sobered up at a startling rate when the gravity of what she'd done had truly set in. "oh, sherlock i'm so sorry i didn't mean to-" her words were cut off as he kissed her again, again and again to pepper kisses all over her cheeks and along her forehead where her bangs had fallen over her eyes again.

jane was a breath of fresh air, the calm in the middle of the storm he lived his life by. in the moment with her, sitting on the grass in a darkened london park he couldn't help but not care about what john would say when he finally got home or if jane would soon realise how dangerous tangling her life with his truly was.

she pushed herself onto him and held onto his arms as she kissed him harder, not caring that sherlock was the right-hand-man of every inspector at scotland yard or that his idea of fun was dissecting human bodies and testing them for bruising. the only thing that mattered to her was the boy she'd liked since she walked in late to the lecture hall was kissing her back after he'd admitted to her, drunkenly at their mutual friend's wedding, that it was all he thought about whenever he saw her

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🔎

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lokidokieokie · 1 year

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A Clumsy Pursuit

Summary: Stephen wants to ask you out, but the universe seems to be against him.

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Receptionist!Fem!Reader

Warning(s): none really, fluff and humour

Stephen had always been a man of precision and control. He could manipulate time, space, and reality with a flick of his wrist, but when it came to matters of the heart, he was completely clueless. That was until he met you, the receptionist at the Avengers Tower.

You were one of the few people in the tower who could make him feel at ease. You had a way of calming his nerves, and he found himself seeking your company more and more. He had never felt this way about anyone before--not even Christine--and it was a completely foreign feeling for him.

He had decided that he was going to pursue you. He had planned to take you out on a date, but things never seemed to go as planned. He was always so clumsy around you, and everything he did seemed to make you laugh.

One day, he had brought you a cup of coffee, but as he handed it to you, he spilled it all over your desk. You had just laughed it off, helping him clean up the mess. He had never felt so embarrassed in his life, but your laugh had made him feel a bit better.

Another time, he had tried to impress you by showing off his levitation skills, but he ended up losing control and crashing into a bookshelf. You had rushed over to make sure he was okay, and once again, you had laughed it off.

Despite all his clumsy attempts, he never gave up. He was determined to win your heart. He had finally mustered up the courage to ask you out, but just as he was about to speak, he accidentally tripped over his own feet and stumbled into you.

You had caught him, and he looked up at you, feeling mortified. But then, you had smiled at him, and he felt like everything was going to be okay.

"Stephen, I think you're adorable," you said. "And I'd love to go out with you."

He felt like he was on top of the world. He couldn't believe that you had agreed to go out with him. He grinned from ear to ear, feeling like he was finally getting the hang of this whole romance thing.

As you walked away, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over him. He knew that he had a lot to learn when it came to love, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make you happy.

He had finally found the missing piece to his life, and it was all thanks to you.

A/N I'm back baby!

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee @ironstrange1991

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jokatsuya · 1 year

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The day off

Sherlock x reader / Sherlock x Gn!reader

Wordcount: 1233

Warnings: none

Summary: Will (y/n) and Sherlock ever have the chance to enjoy a relaxing day with each other without being disturbed? Maybe. But not today.

A/n: The idea alone makes me grin like crazy. So have fun reading. Yours JoKatsuya

>>What time is it?<<, the quietly getting through words of the man below me tear me out of my thoughts. I must have drifted off a while ago. Still dreamy, I stretch as far as my current position in the tub will allow me and I can't hold back a satisfied sound.

>>Why?<<, I mumble softly, sliding deeper into the water again and positioning my back properly against his chest. Heavens, this is comfortable. I could stay like this forever.

>>Didn't you hear John? He announced himself so loudly, now probably all of Baker Street know he's there.<<, he asks as he pushes me forward a tiny bit to reach for his watch on the small side table. Don't move Sherlock.

Sleepily, I open one eye and turn my head to face him as best I can: >>Obviously not.<<

>>Sherlock?<<, I now hear John's voice as well and look towards the door, startled, my eyes now fully open.

>>God help you if the door is not locked.<<, I warn him now completely in my senses. Just the idea that John could see us like this... I don't even want to think about it any further.

>>Don't worry.<<, Sherlock replies with a calm hand gesture, making the mistake of looking me in the eye. That miserable liar. Now John's footsteps can be heard, slowly but surely approaching.

Looking at Sherlock in warning, I almost jump out of the tub and go to the closet to take out one of the bath towels. Hissing, I tell him to get out of the tub as well and to take care of the matter with the door.

At least putting on his pants, Sherlock finally stumbles to the door, slamming his elbow against something in the process. A hiss escapes from him. An admittedly very amusing sight, which is only made more amusing by the situation we find ourselves in.

I can't help giggling, which is why I hold a hand in front of my mouth, caught off guard. John shouldn't hear directly that we were here. At least not until I could at least cover my body properly. But that can't really do much after Sherlock's hiss. This reminds me of one of those cheesy romance movies. Apart from the fact, of course, that we'll probably be caught by John, the man who is shipped by a great many Sherlock Holmes fans with my boyfriend. Admittedly ironic.

>>What?<<, I ask innocently with a shrug, justifying the laughter before turning my attention back to the small cabinet in front of me.

My reaction ensures that I get one of those usual looks from him. That wrinkling of the eyebrows, the pursed lips, the questioning look with the touch of a grin. He knows perfectly well that I couldn't stay mad at him for long with that look. Yup, he's got me wrapped around his finger, but he's not getting off that easy now.

>>Sherlock, are you in the bathroom? We need to talk.<<

>>Do we have to John?<<, I hear Sherlock after a little clearing of his throat to continue in an old familiar tone of voice.

>>Yes. That's why we agreed to meet today?<<, John chimes in slightly irritated now just outside the door. At the same time you can hear his hand reaching the door handle. My pulse begins to race.

When I don't find any of the towels I'm looking for, I look at Sherlock in panic and whisper as quietly as possible: >>You should put the washed towels away again!<< At the same moment, a loud click pervades the room and I breathe a sigh of relief. With my lips I form a thank you in the direction of Sherlock.

>>Sherlock? What are you doing?<<, John gets upset on the other side of the door, trying to open it with a shake, but in vain.

>>Were we supposed to meet? I don't remember at all.<<, Sherlock returns, playfully unknowing, and leans against the door.

>>Yes, Sherlock.<<, John answers, trying to keep his tone calm. Wait, he had an appointment for today? I had written him ages ago in any calendar that I have today off, whereupon he meant to keep himself also completely free. With a raised eyebrow, I give Sherlock a wary glance. His seemingly innocent look around and avoidance of my gaze tells me exactly that he is only too well aware of his guilt.

>>Now open the door and come out.<<, another rattle. Sherlock's hand slides slowly to the knob, pausing briefly as he looks to me. Without taking my eyes from his, I slowly shake my head. He better not open that door. Why would he open it anyway? But what goes on in Sherlock Holmes' head stays in it far too often.

Suddenly Sherlock turns to the laundry basket and in the next instant takes out a completely rumpled shirt and throws it to me. And so another click sounds. He's in for a treat when this is behind us. Then he turns back to the door, which opens not even a second later.

In the corner of my eye, I notice Sherlock spread out and put a foot behind the door so John couldn't really see much. After today, Sherlock will never again undress me in a place we don't stay. Okay, that sounds weird, but the point of the statement is clear. Eager to proceed as quietly as possible, I pull the shirt apart. But who would have thought it? A corresponding noise is unavoidable. I freeze.

>>What was that?<<, John suddenly wants to know. Oh crap.

>>Nothing.<<, Sherlock replies as if shot out of a pistol and tries to push the door shut in John's face. Who would have thought that opening it would not be such a good idea? I roll my eyes.

>>Nothing? Let me in.<<, John states emphatically, placing his foot between the door frame and the closing door.

>>I'm naked.<<, the first thing that seems to have popped into Sherlock's head shoots out of the latter's mouth.

>>You have pants on, so let...<<

>>(Y/n) is naked.<<, it now escapes the curly-headed man's mouth, causing an uncomfortable pause on all sides. He didn't say that. In moments like these, I could really wring his neck.

>>(Y/n)? What does (y/... Naked?<<, the doctor tries to process the words he just heard. Rushing, I button up the crimson shirt and try to fix my still wet hair according to the circumstances. Take a deep breath (y/n), it's going to be okay.

>>Not anymore.<<, I awkwardly acknowledge and tiptoe past Sherlock and John toward the bedroom.

>>Hi, John.<<, I greet him quickly as I walk past him and look into his eyes for a brief moment. He had confusion written all over his face.

>>Hi...<<, he stutters to himself and makes room for me, his gaze suddenly on everything but me.

Putting my hands on my hips, I take a deep breath and lean my head against the cool wall as I close the door behind me. The thing was so absurd that I can't suppress a muffled laugh.

>>So...you two...?<<, I hear John ask as the men move toward the living room.

>>You wanted to talk about something else, right? Tea?<<, Sherlock tries to steer him away from the subject. This is going to be a long conversation with John when I get out.

If you want to be tagged, just write me at what.

Strictly do not: copy, claim or translate those stories of mine anywhere else

#Sherlock #Sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock bbc #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock fic #sherlock fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch #Benedict Cumberbatch x y/n #Benedict Cumberbatch x you #Benedict Cumberbatch x reader #john watson #bbc #dr john watson #martin freeman #dr watson

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annesthaeticc · 2 years

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Hold On, We're Going Home | Benedict Cumberbatch x Fem!Reader

| a song fic; Hold On, We're Going Home by Drake and Majid Jordan (listen to the song here)

| RATED 18+. contains fluff, and smut (porn with plot, p in v sex, dirty talking, creampie)

| 4,800 words

| After an exhausting night of attending an awards ceremony, Benedict is nothing but happy to take you home and spend the rest of the night with you and only you.

| NOTE : hey! how're you doing? hope ur having a great day/night! this has to be the longest one shot fic i've written so far, i hope you enjoy the long-ish read! and it has been a while since i wrote a song fic, feels so good to go back to my roots! lemme know ur thoughts about this one! comments, hearts, REBLOGS make my day! <3

The twinkling lights of the city looked so faraway, yet so bright. Everytime he blinked his eyes, it became blurred, like tiny multi-colored bubbles flashing. He tapped his finger absentmindedly against the rim of his whiskey glass, thinking if he should take another sip. His eyes started to focus on his reflection on the glass window, shifting to his dapper vision. He watched himself on the glass, thinking how he looked good. Must be the effect of the alcohol, he thought. He then sipped the last of the contents of his glass, then settled it on the marble countertop nearby.

The pacing started. His leather shoes started to create a path to and fro, back and forth on the carpeted floor. He balled his fist, then opened it, like he was squeezing an imaginary stress ball. His fingers itched to touch his hair, wanting to run his fingers on it nervously. But he figured Don wouldn’t be too pleased if he saw him already disheveled. He knew his stylist put a lot of effort on getting his curls together, and he’d rather not mess it up. He started to take deep breaths in time of his pacing. He prayed the air conditioning was cold enough to dry the sweat that was starting to form on his eyebrow.

Finally, he internally sighed as he heard the door click open. Then you stepped into the room and instantly, his nervousness faded. He was then filled with awe with you.

You looked so beautiful, and he was so damn glad he was marrying you.

You were like a dark sky adorned with shining little stars, you glowed even more when you saw your man looking so dapper and sexy in his white suit. You approached him, tethering in your heels. Hands sought out to touch him and he instantly offered his hands to you, You held on to his arms, then looked up at him.

“Wow,” he said, barely a whisper. His voice might’ve caught in his throat, so he cleared it and smoothed his hands on yours, just to make sure he’s still alive and you were still real.

“What do you think?” you asked before starting to tie his bowtie.

“I think we should stay in tonight.” he said, drawing you closer to him.

“Hmm, tempting. But no can do, mister. Car is already waiting downstairs.”

“I really don’t care if I win it or not, I want to stay here,” he pouted.

“Me too, my love. But sadly, we need to. Plus we can’t disappoint Wanda and Tim now, can’t we?” you heard him sigh. He ducked his head and leant his head on your shoulder. Despite you wearing four inch heels, he still needs to bow down a bit so that your heights could meet.

“What if I don’t win?” he asked, the words trailing down your bare skin.

“It’s okay. It’s all fine. What matters most is that you gave your best and you’re my winner.”

“Would you still marry me even if I don’t take the little guy home?”

“Of course I would. Besides, you’ve got a little guy in me, that’s enough for now, is it?” you smiled and rubbed his back in an effort to comfort him and yourself.

Benedict stood up straighter and beamed at your wording. Just the slightest implication, the littlest whisper of the word that you’re finally expecting makes him smile like a loon. Instinctively, he touched the teeny tiny bump that was starting to rise on your skin, that was temporarily hidden by your black dress.

“My god, I really want to kiss you right now,” he sighed defeatedly, yet he still moved closer to you.

“Nope. Not allowed, it’s matte.” you chuckled.

Instead, he sought out the pulse point on your neck, and there he planted a kiss. Then, he brought up your intertwined hands and kissed the finger where your engagement ring is nestled.

“I love you, win or lose, I’m all for you.” you said in all earnest.

“I love you too.”

“Now let’s get this done so we can go home early.” he smiled then led you out of the hotel suite.

Hand in hand, you walked through the carpeted corridor with his assistant and his stylist in tow. His security called for an elevator and you all followed suit. His assistant, Emily buzzed through the usual red carpet routine and the procedures and program of the awards ceremony. You intently listened while remaining silent, you nodded and hummed when she needed affirmation.

Ben, however, was jittery. His hands moved too much and you could just feel the tension he’s feeling. You rubbed his back affectionately, trying to help him calm down.

“Love, what if you take a drink? Water? Whiskey perhaps?” you suggested.

“I really want some more whiskey right now,” he chuckled and took your hand.

“Okay, we’ll have Dominic get you a flask, does that sound good?”

“Yeah.” he exhaled.

You tapped Dominic and asked him to get your love a flask of whiskey in the hotel bar once the elevator lands on the ground floor. He nodded and he did so once the elevator stopped. As you all waited for Dominic by the lobby, Benedict couldn’t help but feel a little bit calm. You always stood close to him, almost never leaving his space. He figured it might be because his nerves needed calming down, but then he realized, maybe you were nervous too. It’s for him, as much as it is for you.

Benedict was all aware that you aren’t used to this. This isn't your line of work and it's completely normal to be nervous. You were more used to the bright lights of hospital rooms, rather than the bright and flashing lights of media attention. He looked at you, and caught you in a moment of anxiety. He knows you as much as you know him. And right now, you need him as much as he needs you.

"You okay?" he whispered in your ear.

"I am, though I think I need a quick trip to the bathroom before we go," you sighed. Pregnancy was all to blame.

"I'll come with you." he flashed you a smile and excused you two.

"Do you have your lipstick with you?" he asked as you two neared the ladies' room.

"Ben… " you warned him.

"Just asking. Besides, isn't that what your pocket is for?" he chuckled. You playfully swatted his arm then left him for the stalls.

You quickly did your business and left the restroom. You found him leaning against the marble wall, looking so casual. You grabbed your phone from your pocket and snapped a quick picture of him. He was looking away from the camera, and he looked so beautiful.

"You look really handsome here." you gushed as you showed him the picture.

"Damn right I do, I even look handsome while waiting for my pregnant fiance outside the ladies room." he laughed and held your hand.

The two of you quickly made it back to his team and Emily confirmed that it was time to go. Ben helped you drape your shawl on your bare shoulders, making sure you weren't cold. He made you walk in front of him and behind Dominic so that you would be shielded away from grabby fans or paparazzis.

Soon, you were all driving off to the venue. The traffic slowed and became congested, you figured you were already in the parade of cars by the carpet.

The car ride wasn't so quiet. You started to crack a joke to ease off the tension. Benedict fought you for being the funniest. You just had to give it to him. He makes you so damn happy even in the most unusual of events. You had to make sure your mascara was waterproof as he had you in tears, laughing like a little kid at his latest joke.

Emily, Don, and Dominic were also laughing, and by the time the car stopped by the carpet, you were all smiling. Dominic discreetly passed him his flask and he took a quick swig before stepping out of the car.

As he closed the car door behind him, the screams started to get loud and pierce his ears. He made a quick move to open your door and he helped you out of the car. You thanked him and held onto his hand, while your other hand gathered your dress.

Among the loud screaming of his name, was yours. Fans alternatively chanted your names as the two of you smiled and waved. The walk on the carpet was so slow, and Ben was worried you might get distressed or tired, given your condition.

"You alright my love?" he asked you as photographers started to direct your focuses.

"Yeah," you breathed, if a little shaky. He noticed this and excused you and himself from the press to meet with Emily.

"Need to stay hydrated," you chuckled as Em gave you a drink. Ben rubbed your back soothingly and you instantly relaxed.

He guided you back to the carpet and drew you close to his side as you two posed for photos.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look?" he said under his breath, only you two could hear.

"Not in so many words, if I recall correctly, you only said 'wow'," you joked.

"Shame on me, not properly complimenting my beautiful fiance," he chuckled and you laughed.

"Yeah, shame on you, Mr. C." you giggled as the two of you walked away from the carpet. It was now time for interviews.

He was beckoned over by E!'s host and he stepped on the platform. Briefly answering their questions.

"Now we see you've got a beautiful lady beside you," the host said and you heard it.

"That's my fiance, Y/N." he proudly smiled and gestured at you. You gave the camera a wave and a smile.

"Rumors are going around that you two are expecting, any comments on that?"

"It's against my will to share anything private but I'm really happy and proud to say that yes we are," he laughed. They offered their congratulations to him and to you.

"That must be a dream come true for you!" they said.

"It is, but it is infinitely better with the fact that I'm doing this with her, that I'm with her," he said. You heard him pour his heart out in a public interview. Knowing him, he wouldn't want to give up any private information about you as a couple, as an impending family, but his words made you blossom. Your cheeks burned red as he gave you a quick glance.

"Will wedding bells soon be ringing?"

"Hopefully yes. But I don't know, you guys will just have to find out how soon." he said with a smile. With that, the interview concluded. He marched down and met with you. He planted a kiss on your temple, then linked your hands together.

"I didn't spill too many beans, didn't I?" he asked.

"It was great, Ben. You're allowed to say something about me, or something about us. Just watch it though, or you might share something to them that they're not supposed to know,"

"Like what?" he smirked.

"I don't know, maybe you'll say that I'm actually a great cook that's why you're marrying me,"

"Is that a bad thing?" he chuckled.

"Could be, especially if MasterChef decides to hire me as a judge," you said. A laugh vibrated through him and you couldn't help but join along.

Wanda and Tim came into your view, and you rushed to give them each a hug.

"My darling girl, look at you!" Wanda grinned at you and you blushed.

Benedict moved in to give them a hug and they gave him their warmest congratulations on the awards nomination and the news of pregnancy.

"How far?" Tim asked you.

"Two months."

"Why didn't you call me?" Wanda glared at Ben.

"We just found out the other day mum, I'm sorry,"

"You should be!" she huffed and you stifled a grin.

Emily then turned up from the side and ushered you inside the slowly growing crowded auditorium. Sadly, you had to part with Wanda and Tim as you two were seated upfront. You and Ben promised to catch them at the end of the show.

The auditorium was starting to become full of celebrities, all looking glam and dashing. The man beside you however, was the only one you had eyes for. You mingled with others but the two of you always, always gravitated to each other. A distance would be kept but only for a moment.

Then Keira arrived. She was glowing, her baby bump looking glorious.

"Congratulations!" she gasped.

"Thank you so much. And wow, you look really amazing!" you said. The stream of pleasantries never seems to end with Keira. She's such an amazing friend. Fortunately, you two are seated next to each other.

The ceremony finally started and the pomp and pageantry commenced. You had to take a deep breath in and exhale through your nose just to convince yourself that you could go through 3+ hours of sitting and clapping.

"Can I get you a drink?" your fiance asked you. You laughed with your pursed lips. He looked at you with brows furrowed.

"What's so funny?"

"Don't go around asking people that question, they might think you're a waiter," you pointed at his white suit and black bowtie.

"Shut up you, now come on, iced tea?" he offered. Your laughs didn't stop until he gave you a glass.

"Just wait till we get home, I don't think you'll be making jokes about my suit then,"

"Lucky me, I guess." you winked at him and he kissed your cheeks as the lights dimmed.

Thank god for commercials. Almost every time there's a commercial, you excuse yourself for a trip to the bathroom. Benedict was all too happy to go with you, til you finally figured out why.

"I saw that," you smirked at him as he sneakily put out his half cigarette.

"I know I promised there would be no more—"

"But I know you're nervous and anxious to get home. So it's all fine," you reassured him.

"Now come on, rockstar. You're about to present a category." this time you were the one to give him a kiss.

"Wait, hold on," he slipped his fingers in his breast pocket and retrieved his flask. He took a swift swig then patted it back to his suit pocket.

He helped you to your seat just in time for another category announcement. After that, he left and the next you saw him, he was onstage, presenting an award.

Ben had hidden the nerves well in his smooth velvet voice. His eyes scanned the whole room, but he only found yours. He only had his eyes for you. He winked at you before announcing the winner.

"How'd I do?" he asked as he sat down next to you. You enveloped his hand in yours and beamed at him.

"Amazing."

Few more minutes passed, and the best actor nominations were about to be announced. You could feel him tense up and you felt it too.

"I don't think I can do this," he sighed heavily.

"Yes you can, love. I'm right here." you reassuringly said. His right hand took your left, where your engagement ring shines. You squeezed his hand and smiled.

"I love you. And I'm so proud of you," you said. You watched his eyes become teary and it was enough for you at that moment.

Benedict Cumberbatch. The Imitation Game. The presenter said.

His name spoken so loud, so clear, in such a large place made him shyly smile. And the people were cheering, clapping. But his focus shifted to you; you were clapping and your smile was genuine. He now knows that he is the luckiest man in the world. He felt so big, so elated. Because you, just you, being proud and happy for him and with him at that certain moment, was special enough.

He silently wished he could bottle the moment up. Especially the look on you: eyes wide in pride, smile so warm, and your hand that nestles your promise to him, was applauding him.

You took his hand in anticipation and ran your thumb in circles. The winner was announced and you politely clapped. Though a smile was painted on his pretty face, you could feel his disappointment.

"No matter, you're still my winner. We could have a drink or two or more later, then have drunken sex, how does that sound?" you offered. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and rubbed your back affectionately.

"Darling we can't have drunken sex, you're not allowed to drink,"

"But—"

"Actually I think I need to sober up. We're going to make love all night long and I'm going to put another baby in you, how does that sound?" he whispered in your ear and the fine hairs on your back stood up.

"Win-win situation. I like how you think, Cumberbatch." you said, your voice low.

Soon enough, you found yourselves clapping along the crowd, cheering and congratulating the night’s winners. A new tension has fallen over the two of you, it was like a veil, a bubble that separated you from the rest of the majority. You could feel his hands all over you, ghosting on your skin, and you seem to do the very same. You want him so close to you, with nothing in between and around.

He felt like dancing. He felt his body was alight with new energy. One that doesn’t equate to having an award, or any kind of a bloody award. He was going home with you, and that’s all he could ever want and ever need.

“I know you’re tired but would you like to attend the afterparty?” he asked as you stood amongst the crowd that was heading to Vanity Fair’s afterparty.

“Would love to,” you happily sighed.

“You sure? I know those heels are killing you,”

“Come on Cumberbatch, before I change my mind.” you giggled and led him through the throng of people.

Flashing colored lights welcomed you as you stepped into the room. People were piled by the bar, ordering drinks and chatting. The DJ had cranked up some fine tunes and there were also people on the dancefloor. Not giving a damn if their designer dresses are stepped on.

He did what he had promised to you, avoiding alcohol and only drank water to recover himself from the amount of whiskey he had drunk throughout the ceremony. Hand in hand, he waltzed through the dancefloor, and a giggle escaped your lips when he had dipped you. After a few moves, you sat down and he lifted your heeled feet to his lap, trying to ease the pain.

But then a beat started to thump through the room. A beat you know so well. Quickly, onto your feet, you pulled your bewildered fiance and let him back to the dance floor. You pulled him close and started to lip sync the lyrics. As soon as he recognized the melody, he smiled and held your waist close to him.

“I want your hot loving emotion, endlessly.” you whispered so close to his lips.

“‘Cause you’re a good girl, and you know it.” his voice rumbled and you could feel it. The vibration of the bass, and his dark smooth voice.

Drake has nothing on him. You smirked to yourself.

“Just hold on, we’re going home,” you sang.

“Just hold on, we’re going home.” he sang the last lyric and you finally pulled him down, meeting his lips for a kiss.

“Take me home.” you whispered and held on to him.

Ben watched the building fly past his window. The car was moving at a speed, the driver was all too happy to step on the pedal. Ben leant back on the leather seat and exhaled, he closed his eyes and your perfume filled his nose. You were wearing his suit jacket and nestled into him. You cuddled up to him immediately the second the car door locked shut. The drive would’ve been short if Ben directed the driver to drop you off at the hotel, but no, he chose to head home.

Win or lose, I’m all for you. I’m so proud of you.

Your voice in his head replayed the words over and over. A smile crept on his lips. He really is the luckiest man. He couldn’t imagine himself going through it all with another woman, or worse, alone. He would’ve been a mess. He would’ve gone home drunk, woken up sick of alcohol poisoning and self-pity. But now, he has you, and he’d rather have you forever than anything. You were worth more than any silver or gold, nor any long standing ovation or recognition.

“I love you.” he whispered into your hair, you heard it and snuggled closer to him.

The drive didn’t take much longer. The car soon pulled up in the driveway of his property. He almost carried you into the house, as you leant heavily into him.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” he exhaled, then gave into carrying you upstairs. Once he crossed your shared room, he gently laid you down on the bed. He moved down and peeled down the straps of your Blahniks, you hummed in relief and closed your eyes. You felt him leave the bed and move around the room. You blinked them open only to find him on the other side of the room unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?” you gasped and sat up.

“Getting ready for bed?”

“What? Didn’t you say we’re going to make love all night?”

“But love, you’re tired,” he sighed and scooted to the edge of the bed, his shirt hanging open.

“I’m not!”

“But you were already asleep, I had to carry you upstairs,”

“I was just faking it, so you would carry me,” you said with a wicked smile on your lips.

“Why you—” you squealed as he pulled you down to the edge of the by your legs. He wrapped your legs around his waist and that made you gasp. You felt him getting hard against the fabric of his trousers. He leaned down and captured your lips into a kiss.

Hands started to roam and touch, igniting sparks of arousal and need. His hands, his skillful touch started its path downwards. He cupped your core through the fabric of your dress, and you hissed in sudden contact.

“As much as I love this dress on you, I want it off of you.” he grumbled. You directed him where the zipper was and his fingers started to fumble.

“What the—” he groaned in frustration. You giggled and he looked at you with danger in his eyes.

“You know what, I’ll just buy you a new one,” he said and you heard the fabric tear open. Your gasp in surprise was soon wiped away by his fierce kiss. You rid yourself of the remaining fabric, then laid back down just wearing your lace thong.

He was starting to remove his suit but you stopped him. “It’s going to stay on,” you said and dipped your hand into his trousers. His pretty lips curved into a beautiful ‘o’ and he leaned back his head slightly.

What a sight to behold.

His lips came down on you again, this time with the intention of tasting your skin. He left wet open kisses all over your neck and your chest, paying special attention to the spot where he felt your racing heartbeat. You moaned and writhed underneath him, your nails lightly scratching his back.

His fingers followed his lips. Your hips bucked as he swiftly pulled down your thong, dipped down his head and gave your core a long lick. Looking into your eyes, he tasted and lavished on the taste of your wetness. He then slipped a finger, then started to massage that spot that made you wild. You tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling him to where you wanted him to be. He groaned and closed his eyes.

“Ben, fuck,” you moaned as he hit that spot over and over.

“Come on baby. I want you to cum on my tongue.”

So close. So deliciously close. One last flick of masterful tongue, he had you coming. A gush of wetness flooded through you, he made you squirt.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled.

He backed away and slipped out his finger in fear of making you oversensitive. When you’ve calmed down a bit, he lightly kissed your wet pussy, and tapped it with his hand. You drew in a sharp breath as you felt your legs shake.

Ben saw this and chuckled darkly, he gathered your legs and ran his hands on your bare, smooth skin. Soothing you, helping you come down. He wrapped your legs around his waist once more, and this time you freed him from the confines of tight trousers. You circled his shaft and he involuntarily bucked into your warm hand.

“I know I promised you that we’d be making love but I want you right now, hard and fast,” he panted against your lips.

“Yes, please,” you begged.

With eyes full of love, he gazed into you as he carefully entered you. You sighed and sought out his arm, holding on tightly. As you began to get used to his size, he started to move in you, deeply. He pulled out, only his head staying in you, then slammed back in, your hips flushed. You screamed in surprise and he had mistaken it for pain.

"You okay?" he asked, his breath shallow.

"Again, please," you pleaded. He smirked and did it again. Once buried deep inside you, he moved his head down to kiss you.

"You're so deep inside me," you sighed into his lips.

"Am I?" while still inside you, he rolled his hips into a circle and you arched your back in pleasure.

"Do you like that, darling? Me buried so deep inside you,"

"Yeah, ah—" you cried out when he did it again.

Ben started to move, he thrusted in and out of you, making sure his cock kisses that spot inside you. He loved to see you writhing and squirming under his pace, eyes rolling back and lips agape in pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good." he exhaled as he felt you tighten around him, signalling another orgasm from you.

"Ben, I'm gonna cum," you screamed, digging your nails into his arm.

"That's it baby, let me hear you scream as you cum on my cock," he whispered into your ear, his voice harsh.

A cry broke out from your lungs as the violent waves of pleasure rushed throughout your body. He soon followed, your orgasm causing his orgasm to rip through him. You pulled him down to you, wanting to feel him and his weight above you.

He began to move away but you protested. "Love, I just need to get rid of these clothes." he kissed you.

Ben made quick work of getting rid of his clothes and preparing a wet towel for you. You were on the edge of falling asleep when he joined you in bed. He wiped your skin with the towel, taking extra care on your sensitive spot between your legs.

"I think you made me pregnant again," you hummed.

"I should hope so," he chuckled and settled beside you after turning off the lights.

"Be careful what you wish for. I think we can only handle one right now."

"Thank you," he said after a beat of silence.

"For what?"

"For being here. With me. Beside me."

"It's hard to do these things alone," you quoted the lyric from the song you two were dancing to earlier.

"If it's your duty to love me and protect me, then my duty to you is just the same. I love you and I promise to always be here for you. We'll always go through it together." you said and planted a kiss on his chest, at the very top of his heartbeat.

He leaned down and gave you one last kiss for the night, he whispered "I love you." into your lips before finally letting himself fall into sleep.

Benedict slept easily that night as he was well aware of the fact that he was lucky to find his match (you), and did his greatest achievement (get down on one knee and promise to marry you, and start a family with you). He had all his heart's desires and it couldn't have any more worth than a little golden statue.

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bxsotted · 2 years

Text

Denied Pleasures | Patrick Melrose x F!Reader

pairing : Patrick Melrose x F!reader

synopsis : Reader stumbles upon an old lover while attending her parents' Silver Wedding Anniversary ball.

words : 3.1k

themes : angst, nostalgia, bittersweet ending

warnings : mention of previous drug use

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A/N : I guess you could consider this to be connected to Pleasant Beginnings. This is my first fanfic <33 wrote something long enough to be calling it that instead of just a simple blurb - I hope you guys enjoy it! I absolutely adore Patrick and I felt as though I had to write more for him. I used some dialogues from the show bc I still needed some guidance when I wrote this. Also yes, there is a hint of Stephen Strange LMFAO leave me alone.

It had been years since Y/N had last set foot in this mansion. The moment that she walked through that big adorned door, a wave of memories flooded towards her. The music, the drinks, the smell of cigarettes and the sound of pompous laughter. Self-centered conversations, conceited attitudes and overbearing compensations to mask the lack of inspiration these people had for living. It all boiled down to the numbers in their bank accounts.

It always did.

All that mattered in this world was money and image - and while Y/N tried to deny the fact that she inherited this mindset - she was glad to leave that world behind. She had never felt as happy as she had now, having found a new meaning to life. Even with the constant anguish that showered over her as she tried to build a life of her own or the countless curveballs that life would throw her way - she would never go back to her old life.

There was nothing that would make her change her mind.

She ignored the way the party guests gawked at her, the obvious hushed murmurs arising from the people surrounding her. She was used to it - ever since she was young, she had always been the talk of the party. Be it for her revealing outfits, her overly-accessible demeanor, or because she was quite literally the reason why the party was happening. Her mind wandered back to the events her parents would host to find her a suitor - only for her to disappear into the shadows, run through the gardens by herself, where she’d get lost in her personal little wonderland.

Until she met him.

Her eyes scanned the ballroom, the glass of wine rising to her lips as she hummed absent-mindedly to the music. Y/N didn’t expect much from tonight. She had only turned up because it had been ages since she had last seen her parents. Truth be told, she missed them. As much as she said she detested them, she didn’t really. So when she got the phone call from her mother, practically begging her to attend their Silver Wedding Anniversary ball, she accepted.

“Y/N?”

A familiar baritone voice made its way to her ears. It took her a few seconds to register where the sound came from before she slowly turned her head around; looking behind her.

Her eyes fell on a pair of ocean blue ones.

She’d recognize them anywhere.

“Patrick?” her heart fluttered at the sound of the old lover’s name. It surprised her.

“I knew there must’ve been a good reason why the guests had started gossiping so fiercely.” His tone was teasing yet comforting. His words held an affection obvious to any passersby who heard their conversation.

It was funny how the fondness between the two was practically palpable. No need to read between the lines, it was open; shameless, even. Quite a contrast to what would usually go down back in her new home.

In her journey of self discovery and trying to detach herself from the lavish world that she came from, she stumbled upon a man who swept her off her feet. A prestigious neurosurgeon that went by the name of Stephen. To say she was smitten by him would be an understatement.

There wasn't much that the lust filled relationship could offer her. She was in a constant search of love and yet ended up finding herself bound by the temptation of a no strings attached dynamic with him. The feelings that they had for each other were more than obvious but the denial that was wrapped around his heart seemed to be stronger.

Stephen's insecurities and fears often got the best of him when it came to his and Y/N's relationship, which would only lead to her frustration growing. Countless excuses of how morally wrong it was to develop a relationship with a patient's friend while still letting hypocrisy take over when getting lost between the sheets of her bed. A part of her understood where the apprehension came from - knowing his past haunted him to this very day. Shaping the way that he is, chained by the thought of being hurt or hurting the ones he loves, finding the mere concept of vulnerability unbearable.

But as forgiving and compassionate as she tried to be, she was still human. Her patience was finite and no one deserved to be strung along for that long. Yet, she found herself staying by his side. Telling herself that she'd wait a million years more if she had to. Sometimes she despised how loyal she was to commitments that weren't even there yet. She liked that about herself though. As much as it may hurt her now and again, she'd never change that about herself.

A hopeless romantic they called her.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she stepped closer to the man in front of her. “All thanks to my charm, I guess.” She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes ever so slightly.

Patrick chuckled, and he tried to hold back his smile but to no avail. He opened his arms, beckoning Y/N into a long-awaited hug. “It’s so good to see you.” He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders as she wrapped hers around his torso. Patrick looked down at Y/N and continued. “And may I add you’re looking lovely as ever.” The arm that enveloped her made its way down her shoulder to her hand. He took it softly and stepped back to get a good look at her.

His eyes trailed down the shape of her body. Observing the way that her black dress perfectly hugged every curve on her shape. Her legs exposed through the curtain-like skirt of her gown - her neck and hands adorned with silver jewelry. He swallowed dryly and his breath hitched slightly as his gaze landed on hers.

He had always remembered Y/N having an angelic aura about her. He always thought that was his mind romanticizing the image he had of her.

Having the woman stand in front of him in the flesh, after years of relying on his own memory, he realized she was even more than that. There were no words to describe her… and those eyes.

“Exquisite.” The words escaped him and he chortled at the effect she still had on him.

Y/N bit her lip, holding back a giggle. She could see right through him. It wasn’t that she found it amusing; au contraire. She was quite flattered.

A familiar heat began to creep on her cheeks and she prayed to anyone that would hear that her face was not flushed. She’d blame it on the wine if it was brought up but she knows that old trick would not work on Patrick.

“I see you still got your loose tongue, huh, Melrose?” She gave his hand a soft squeeze, her words smooth and teasing. She couldn’t stop herself as she let her eyes quickly scan him from head to toe.

“And I see you still think you’re subtle, huh, L/N?” He raised his eyebrow. Of course he noticed the way she was looking at him. When it came to her, he always did. “You know I’m weak when it comes to you, Y/N.”

Her giggles echoed through the empty halls, filling his ears and taking hold of his heart - his pulse rushing at the sound. He was beaming. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so happy and light.

“Remember when we dropped acid in Greece?” he said, letting his mind wash over with the memories that came flooding back to him.

The warm sunlight, clear blue waters, the fresh air, the smell of her perfume. God, her perfume. Delicate, heavenly. How it would hit him as he hugged her from behind, when he ran his fingers through her hair. The scent of roses lingering between his fingers where her locks had just been. A feeling of overwhelming luck for having found each other in a malice-filled world. Two specks of light in the middle of eternal darkness.

Patrick licked his lips, feeling the warmth on his chest slowly grow at the sudden yearning he felt.

“I remember where you stashed it.”

“Yes, I’m so sorry about that.” He let out an apologetic chuckle.

“Oh I didn't mind.”

Patrick reaches for his drink, a soft clinking sound catching Y/N's attention as his fingers wrap around the wine glass. Her eyes fall onto a silver band adorning his ring finger.

Y/N's smile falters slightly, her eyes land on his once again, realization in both expressions.

“But let’s not get nostalgic.”

“Another pleasure denied.” He brings the wine up to his lips, taking a sip as if to wash down the bitterness of his words.

She picked up the disappointment in Patrick’s voice almost immediately. It was too obvious, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little sting in her chest at the realization. She couldn’t stand looking at the ring for too long. The brightness of it - shining, blinding her, almost as if to mock her. Y/N let her eyes wander towards the garden as she changed the subject.

“I heard your mother passed.”

“An orphan at last!” He opened his arms, his head tilted, an ironic smile painting his face. “It’s what I always wanted. After all this time I feel complete.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the tone that he carried. “I hope that wasn’t your speech.”

“Oh no, my speech… I figured it was best to improvise, you know? Speak from the heart.”

“Mmm…”

“But with my heart—“

“With your heart,” Y/N interrupted, “I bet it was beautifully distasteful. Haughty, but sweet enough to stay with the mourners.”

Patrick looked at her, his cynical grimace changing as he heard her speak. His gaze softened, as did the corners of his mouth. He chortled softly, bringing his hand to his trousers’ pocket. He glanced at his glass as he swirled the wine around, his grin growing gently. “You always saw the good in me.”

“You say that as if it was hard.”

The look he gave Y/N was tender and loving. He had forgotten just how wonderful some people could be. How there were people out there who could actually love unconditionally. The feeling he had been trying to ignore only continued to grow, and at this point it had become almost overwhelming. He let himself go, and for the sixth or seventh time - who knows; at this point he lost count - let his gaze fall upon Y/N’s lips.

He stepped closer to her and felt his arm move on its own as he cupped her cheek softly with his hand. They looked at each other and the emotions started to bubble - they could see it in each other's eyes. Y/N bit her tongue, but Patrick decided to do otherwise.

��I thought about you…”

“Patrick…” Y/N felt her heart pound against her ribcage. As soon as she locked eyes with him, she placed a gentle hand on his chest.

The urge to pull him in was overwhelming, but she managed to at least stop him - keep him in place. She turned her face away, trying to escape from those icy blue eyes that tempted her with the promise of forbidden love. It had always been like this, ever since they were young. When they first got together, Y/N went against her parents' wishes, following her heart and Patrick ignored his own responsibilities to be with the one he ached for.

Only this time, the reasons why they couldn't be together were different, much more complicated.

Nothing too real was holding Y/N back, one would think. Stephen wasn't even someone who she had a formal relationship with. She could easily take the opportunity and let herself be swept off her feet by her old lover.

But him? He was a married man. He had a wife to come home to. Not only that but who knew if he had kids waiting around for him as well. She knew perfectly well about Patrick's self destructive habits, she just thought that had been something he had left behind.

She couldn't do this, she wasn't a homewrecker. She couldn't let Patrick throw away the life he had built for himself so easily either. One that he surely had worked hard for after having to recover from his addiction in rehab.

“You were constantly on my mind when it happened.” He pulled her closer, his fingers caressing the line of her jaw fondly. “You plagued me…” He leaned in, Y/N’s hand pushed him back slightly, but the effort she put was minimal.

She wanted this. He was sure of it.

He brushed his nose against her cheek and felt her shaky breath. He inhaled and caught a whiff of that same perfume that had bewitched him all those years ago. It smelled just as good as it did in Greece. He felt his heart race, placing his glass of wine down to rest his now free hand on her hip. His fingers dug slightly on her dress, desire threatening to over take his actions. “…You were the only one that I wanted— " he said through gritted teeth "—needed at that moment.”

“Patrick, dont.” She pushed him away slightly more forcefully this time, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were pleading, a mixture of feelings, filled with a hesitant longing.

“Is this what you’re worried about?” He brought his hand up, showing off his ring. “This? This doesn’t mean anything, Y/N. I’m quite happy to announce actually that we’re on the verge of—“

“Stop that.” She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see the ring, she hated the sight of it. It felt insulting, and made her grow embarrassed.

There were so many thoughts going through her head. She felt envious of the fact that he had found someone else - someone good enough to try to settle down with, at least at the time. Shameful of the thought that crossed her mind, how easy it would be to get involved with him. How easy he was making it sound.

All she had to do was lean in, no words exchanged, just kiss him, and all Hell would break loose. They'd surrender into the fires of their passion, a spark igniting the flames of an old love. Losing themselves into each other as they used to all those years ago…

“It wouldn’t be the first time I do it either! Remember Julia?”

“Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes just by the mention of her name. She could feel her blood beginning to boil but for entirely different reasons now.

Julia had always been around Patrick - the reasoning, Y/N could care less about to be honest - what bothered her about the relationship they had developed was the fact that Julia had become an enabler for Patrick's drug problem.

Whatever they had done or discussed behind closed doors and outside of his and Y/N's relationship was their business. She had no opinion on what kind of dynamic they had occupied themselves with.

So, it was no surprise to her that her name would come up when Patrick decided to reveal he had already been unfaithful to his beloved wife. It wasn't like it all fell on Julia's hands though. Y/N found herself frustrated at Patrick. She thought he had been trying to be better, she thought he was better. But it was clear to her that he still struggled with self restraint.

That wasn't the only thing that she found troubling though. She hated the way that his words, his excuses, were beginning to make sense. He was making a point and she found herself agreeing with him.

“It didn’t mean anything though. It was empty, superficial, spiteful even. All she cared about was my money. Wasn’t even mine and much less now with my mother’s passing, but with you… It’s always been different with you. Please, Y/N, I'm begging you I just need to feel something, I need you-“

It was tempting. He was practically pleading but she knew it was wrong. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t let Patrick fall into his self-indulgent ways again. She couldn’t do this to Stephen.

He was close, way too close. It didn’t make her uncomfortable but it made her whole body burn.

“Patrick, stop that.” She grabbed his wrists and took a step back looking at him. “Stop it. Please.”

They looked at each other for a moment, wanting to say so much to each other but neither of them could find the right words. Y/N’s grip on Patrick’s wrists loosened and they both slowly lowered their arms, hands never really leaving each other. Patrick sighed and turned his gaze to their hands. He took hers in his, gently caressing the back of it.

“I just miss you.”

“I know… I miss you too.”

Y/N sets her glass down next to Patrick's. She sits down and tugs on his hand softly, guiding him next to her. They sit in silence for another few seconds, refusing to let go of each other. Regardless of what just happened, it wasn't awkward or agonizing - a word that Patrick would often find himself using to describe the somber spaces. It was comfortable.

“Do you ever wonder…”

“I do.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I know,” she smiles “But I do. Quite a lot actually.”

He hums quietly in thought, his eyes seem glued to their hands. He observes the way that they’re interlocked, how they fit perfectly into each other, filling up the spaces in between each other’s fingers. Patrick looks up at Y/N, and can’t help but mirror the gentle smile that he’s greeted with.

“Do you think it’s ever too late to change your mind?”

Y/N paused. She thought about it for a moment, trying to find coherence in her heart. It was only a few hours ago when she swore there’d be nothing that could make her want to go back to the life she had left behind. It seems like she was wrong.

She examined Patrick’s face as she let her emotions take over her words. “No. I mean, that’s what it's there for, right?”

Patrick leans on Y/N. He rests his head on her shoulder and her hand, in a swift motion, finds its home in his hair. An old habit that would never break.

“Maybe in another life…”

“In another timeline… maybe.”

“You’ll always have my heart, Y/N.”

“You too hold mine, Patrick.”

#patrick melrose fanfiction #patrick melrose #patrick melrose x you #patrick melrose x reader #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch x you #fanfic #fanfiction #patrick melrose x f!reader #f!reader

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 6 months

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Last Updated: 2023-11-30

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

❧ Holmes Family, the by victoriaholmeswriting • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When refusing to dress up for Halloween results in an argument with his wife, Sherlock re-evaluates his priorities and tries to make it right."

❧ Truth Behind It, the by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Prompt(s): "Person A loves Halloween, but sees that Person B hates it. A wants to find out why, but B doesn't want to say it."

❧ Are You Jealous by imeternallylove • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❧ Halloween at 221B by jpat82 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❧ Haunted House by randomfandomimagine • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❧ Just Walk by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❧ Pumpkin Carving by classickook • 〔F〕 •

❧ Ridiculous Costumes￨Prt. II by thepokyone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❧ Seasonal Starbucks by dyns33 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❧ Skeletons and Sugar Rushes by thepokyone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❧ Tis the Season by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 •

❧ Warm Enough by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation | BBC!Sherlock Master Index

Authors: @classickook || @dyns33 || @imeternallylove || @jpat82 || @make-me-imagine || @prettyxlittlexwriter || @randomfandomimagine || @specialagentlokitty || @thepokyone || @victoriaholmeswriting ||

#Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader #Sherlock Holmes x Y/N #Sherlock Holmes x You #Sherlock x Reader #Sherlock x Female Reader #Sherlock x Y/N #Sherlock x You #BBC Sherlock x Reader #BBC Sherlock x Female Reader #BBC Sherlock x Y/N #BBC Sherlock x You #Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader #Benedict Cumberbatch x Female Reader #Benedict Cumberbatch x Y/N #Benedict Cumberbatch x You

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daydreamtofiction · 8 months

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Thou Shalt Not Covet // 8: Penance

Contents | Part 7 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) "This was it. This was really happening."

Word Count: <4K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, religious imagery, explicit sexual content from the outset. Smut: penetrative sex/unprotected sex, (some)dirty talk, other things I’m sure but it’s 4am and I’m tired. Readers must be 18+

Kissing him now was different than before.

In the church it had been desperate, chaotic, a deliverance from lust that served neither of you well. This time, though, there was no rage; no fury in his touch, no aggravation in your chest.

Your mouths moved, deep and slow, luxuriating in the taste of one another without the fear of interruption. You weaved your hands into the back of his hair, the silky, damp locks slipping between your fingers. His lips parted against yours, a heavy breath escaping him as you tugged his head back gently, like a hot, satisfied sigh of relief. You wondered how long he'd been starving himself of this intimacy, how someone who kissed like this would ever have the strength to abstain.

His tongue swept into your mouth, so fluid yet dominant in its invasion. You revelled in the taste of him; the cigarette he'd smoked, the whiskey he'd drank at the party, the intoxicating warmth of his breath. This was the same tongue that spoke to god, that gave sermons in church and preached of chastity, now gliding against yours in a sinful union, inciting feelings within you that he'd so adamantly condemned.

You moaned softly against his lips, pressing your body harder against him. His damp clothes were cold now, making you shiver as the rainwater seeped through to your chest. Your nipples began to harden in response, sending jolts of prickly pleasure to your core with every brush against them.

His hands skimmed up your back, the sensitivity of his touch lost against the thick material of your jumper. You wanted him to delve beneath it, craved the warmth of his large palms splayed across your flesh. But his movements were unhurried, and you weren't sure if it was out of reverence or doubt. But then he rolled his hips beneath you, pressing a straining erection up against your centre, and it definitely didn't feel like doubt.

There was a part of you that was surprised to find him so hard, eager, aching to break out of his confines and sink between your legs. But the other part of you knew; from the moment you met him he seemed to know exactly how to burrow straight to the core of you. To delve beyond the awkwardly timed jokes and resigned disposition to the place where it all made sense. Where you made sense. It was like he belonged within the very depths of you, and he wanted to be there. You wanted him there. Mind and body.

The feeling was torturous; the friction, the pressure, the connection stifled by layers of clothing and his forbearing restraint.

"Touch me," you whispered against his lips.

"I am touching you."

"No, touch me." You reached back and gripped his wrists, attempting to guide him beneath the jumper.

He closed his eyes and let out a growling sigh. It made you halt, leaning back slightly to look into his eyes.

"Please don't hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" he replied.

"I don't know. You just seem... angry."

"I'm not angry, Ellis. I'm devastated." He moved his large hands to frame your face, thumbs on your cheeks, fingers curved around the back of your neck behind your ears. "You have... devastated me."

A breath caught softly in your throat, your voice barely audible as you muttered. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

He returned his mouth to yours and you gasped at the newfound fervour in his kiss. Sharp teeth nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue less gentle in its assault. He said you weren't really sorry, and perhaps that was true; a sorry person would have stopped him, spared him, absolved him of his sins before they burgeoned beyond forgivable. But instead you let him kiss and bite and lick at your parted lips, hummed in approval as he brought his hands to your bare thighs - fingertips bruising in their rough grasp - and bore down against the hard bulge beneath his trousers.

There was a fire deep in your core, flames licking and dancing as they swept through your body. Your skin puckered with heat, every touch searing, every kiss and ragged breath drawing the blaze closer to the surface. You had never wanted someone this desperately before, never been so aroused that you could feel it tingling in your scalp, surging in your stomach and pooling between your legs as your clit pulsated with need.

You dragged the jumper over your head, turning it inside out as you impatiently peeled it from your body and threw it to the ground beside the couch. For three years, no one had seen you naked except Alfie, and there was a comfort that came with that. He'd already acquainted himself with the curves and blemishes of your body, the parts you liked and didn't. He'd seen the scar from an old bellybutton piercing, traced his fingers over the stretch marks on your hips. You never had to fear exposing yourself to him. Most of the time you never even had to; his eagerness to shove inside you completely outweighing his desire to fully undress.

For weeks you'd opened your legs for him, closed your eyes as he clumsily thrust into your body and imagined Father Benedict there instead. You would sink into a world of steepled ceilings and stained glass, dark curls and white collars. But when it was over, you would open your eyes and be back in the house - Gina's house - with Alfie's satisfied smile gleaming down at you.

But this time, Father Benedict wasn't a fantasy, and those piercing blue eyes were actually there, trailing over you in silence. You suddenly became very aware that you'd revealed yourself to him; bare chest, uncovered stomach, dips and contours and textures and curves, parts of you that had belonged solely to someone else for the last three years. A shyness washed over you, the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But as his gaze raked over your body, hands gliding slowly up your sides, you stilled.

A heavy breath fell from his parted lips, the exhale rattling with a soft growl. "Forgive me, Father," he muttered, his voice so low it was barely audible.

You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, or if he really was speaking to God; begging for mercy before he'd even taken a bite of the forbidden fruit.

He leaned forward, placing a kiss on your collarbone as his fingers dug into your hips. Your head fell back instinctively, opening yourself up to him, eyes closing as the warmth of his tongue trailed up to your neck. A shiver ran through you like static, raising goosebumps and tightening your nipples into painful, hard pearls. He hadn't spoken directly to you, and yet somehow every insecurity you had began to melt, dripping from your centre in wet, hot desire.

You took his hair in fistfuls as he traipsed kisses down your chest, teeth grazing over the soft flesh of each breast before pausing suddenly. You opened your eyes and brought your head forward, looking down to find him leaning back to examine you curiously.

"Are these bruises?" he asked.

You glanced down at yourself; the motley of reds, purples and browns marring your breasts.

"Love bites," you replied quietly, simply.

He glared up at you, half-lidded, jaw sharp.

"Does it bother you?" you asked.

"The evidence of another man's mouth all over you?"

"So it does?"

He didn't respond, his silence confirming your suspicion.

"Why?" you whispered.

"Because I know he didn't deserve the privilege."

You felt his words spark the nerves in your clit, like the striking of a match. You rolled your hips slightly, trying to ease the sudden ache. "Are you saying you do?"

"No." His tone darkened as he looked up at you. "But I plan to earn it."

You didn't know what you were expecting him to say. But it definitely wasn't that. It made you wish you could see yourself through his eyes - a woman he had to earn. You leant forward and swept him into another kiss; so overcome with need and adulation, the feeling of being desired and appreciated almost as arousing as his lips on your bare skin. He returned your kiss, just for a moment, before bringing a hand to your face, gripping your cheeks between finger and thumb to peel you away.

"After tonight, no one will ever touch you again unless they're worthy of you," he said, his voice so quiet and serious, lips grazing yours as he spoke. "Will you promise me that?"

You nodded, as much as his grasp on your face would allow.

He eased his grip, seemingly satisfied with your response, and allowed you to melt into him again. You fumbled for the buttons on his shirt as you kissed him, popping them open one by one until you reached the collar. It seemed wrong for you to take it off. Even now as you sat straddling him, half naked and panting heavily, that strip of white plastic around his neck was like armour, an impenetrable shield, blasphemous to remove.

"Go ahead," he said quietly, as if sensing your apprehension. "It just snaps off."

"You don't want to do it yourself?"

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Just do it."

You pulled at it with shaking fingers but it didn't budge. With a slight huff you tried again, harder, hearing two quick pops, a heavy exhale from his lips. You slid it out, eyes fixed on his as you dropped it to the ground - his commitment relinquished, abandoned, discarded into the puddle of your jumper on the floor.

He undid the last few buttons himself before placing his hands around your waist, silently granting permission for you to peel the shirt back from his body and reveal the smooth, cold skin beneath it. You lay your palms on his chest, dragging them slowly down his torso as you admired the sight, the feel, how he expanded with every breath, tensed with the tickle of your fingers. Some parts of him were soft, tender, malleable beneath your touch. Others were hard and robust, broader than you expected them to be. This person wasn't a dream, wasn't a character or a myth. This was a man.

His throat bobbed with a deep swallow as you leant forward and placed a kiss on his chest, his hold on you tightening, body turning rigid beneath you. You trailed your lips up to his neck, revelling in the taste of him; salt and earth, soap and faded aftershave.

"Tell me about the fantasies," he whispered through a serrated breath.

"What do you mean?"

"I want to know what you pictured when you thought of me."

You paused before moving your mouth up to his jaw, kissing along the sharp edge, the slightest brush of stubble beginning to surface.

"I'll tell you what I was thinking about today in my office," he wagered.

You thought about it for a moment. "Okay. You first."

"I was thinking about you kneeling for communion at the altar." He turned his head, his deep, gravelly voice pouring straight into your ear. "With my cock down your throat."

You gasped gently as a rush of warmth flooded your core, making you roll your hips to ride the sudden, intense wave.

"You give sermons with that mouth, Father," you said softly, voice trembling despite your attempt to sound playful.

His hands glided up and down your back, nails grazing lightly over your goose-bumped flesh. "Now you."

"I never really thought of a specific scene. It's just... always you. But-" you cut yourself off, inhaling the words back into your lungs before they even had the chance to escape.

"But?"

You lifted your head to look at him. "One thing always stays the same."

"And that is?"

"You're never... Gentle."

He buckled beneath you, closing his eyes and letting his head fall against the back of the couch, a stifled groan resonating in the base of his throat. "Hot, fiery Hell," he growled, pushing himself up between your legs.

He felt big; his cock firm and straining as it surged against your sheathed entrance. You wanted to release it, hold it in your hands, run your tongue along every inch. You wanted to acquaint the curl of your fingers with its girth, stroke, grip, tease, watch it sink gradually inside you until there was nothing left of it. For the longest time, sex had been a chore; Alfie's penis a jabbing, graceless thing that prodded around but never truly satisfied. You'd forgotten what it was like to truly crave the intrusion, to feel yourself lubricated and ready before you'd even fully undressed.

He weaved a hand through you hair, wrenching you towards him and swallowing you in another heady, desperate kiss. The other hand slid beneath the rumpled fabric of your boxers, tracing his fingers back and forth over the crease where thigh met hip. You willed him to move further inward, mewling with every almost-touch until the sensation became unbearable. You'd waited so long for this; sat through so many sermons, suffered the ache of uncomfortable pews and unsafe bus rides, the suspicious glare of church volunteers and the boredom of those fucking support groups. It was time to embrace where it had led you to.

You were his penance, but he was your reward.

You reached down and began working to unfasten his trousers, battling with the complicated fly until it finally opened. He came undone with it, breathing a hot sigh into your mouth as you stroked and caressed him through his underwear. He steered his fingers over the junction of your bikini line and you gasped as they slipped easily through your wet folds, gliding back and forth before settling on your clit.

He gave a proud hum as he rolled the pad of his thumb over the tender bud, rousing a storm in your core; sparks of lightning and deep, undulating thunder. You moaned softly, grip tightening around the outline of his rigid length. A shiver rippled through you, making your legs shake, hips bucking involuntarily and pushing you harder against his touch.

Maintaining the pressure on your clit, he moved his other hand to the waistband of your boxers - his boxers, now drenched in the evidence of your desire - silently instructing you to take them off. But you didn't want to leave him, even for a moment. Scared that your brief separation would bring him clarity, grant him just enough time to change his mind. You pressed your forehead to his as you lingered there, staring down into his eyes and searching for doubt in the flecks of his irises.

He removed his hands from you completely - the loss of contact turning the pleasure to a heavy, mournful ache - and tugged at the crumpled material around your waist.

"Ellis," he growled.

You gave in and climbed off him, the weight of your movements inciting a stifled groan in his chest. And in the time it took the boxers to fall to the ground, you were back on his lap, bare pussy grinding against the rough fabric of his trousers; buttons and open fly, the Y-shaped seam of his underwear and confined curve of his cock.

Was God here right now? Spying from the corner of the room like some omniscient voyeur? You'd never been one for exhibitionism. But there was a strange power that came with the thought of your naked body shrouded in a celestial gaze, deities forced to watch but unable to intervene.

You felt Father Benedict shift a hand beneath you, shucking his trousers further down his hips and fisting at his underwear. His cock sprung free against your ass, firm and heavy as it settle along the groove between your cheeks. Your breath turned shallow at the mere thought of having him inside you, a deep shiver rippling through your core like a prophecy of that first thrust.

You lifted yourself slightly, enough for him to reach down and grip the base of his cock, gliding the engorged head through the slick between your legs. He was eager, impatient - maybe he was scared of changing his mind too.

"Are you sure about this?" you whispered, shivering as you felt him prodding against your entrance.

His gaze darkened, like a crisp blue sky in the onset of a storm, and in one smooth, firm slide, he entered you. A sound poured out of you that you'd never heard yourself make before; shock, relief, pleasure, all at once. You marvelled at the stretching sensation, the way your body welcomed every inch of his cock with such ease, your inner walls flexing and moulding around the thick veins and hard ridges as it filled you to the very depths.

His eyes clamped shut, the muscle in his jaw pulsating as he fought to maintain his composure. "I haven't been sure about anything since the moment I met you," he finally replied.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to the dimple at the corner of his mouth, trying to soothe the tension he was storing there. You draped your arms around his shoulders and let your chest fall against his, running your fingers through the back of his hair, the curls that fell over the nape of his neck.

This was it. This was really happening.

For the longest time you'd felt incomplete; a collection of empty spaces and uncharted lands, voids too deep and complex for anyone to explore, even you. But in the short time you'd known Father Benedict, he'd somehow managed to journey to the very centre of those places, laid down roots and watched them flourish, as swift and besieging as English ivy on fractured stone. Perhaps that was why this felt so right; because the hollows of your body were already his to pervade.

He was bigger than Alfie; thicker, longer, the snug fit stealing the air from your lungs as you relaxed against him. No man had ever filled you this completely; flooding your pelvis with a warm, tense pressure before he'd even moved a muscle. You rolled your hips, testing the feel of him, and gasped quietly as electricity surged through your belly.

A deep, husky groan dripped into your ear, long fingers and large palms skimming up your thighs and settling on your waist with a clawing grasp. His voice sent a chill across your skin, even the finest hairs bristling in response.

"Ellis," he rumbled. "I'm really trying not to lose my composure."

You kissed him softly, allowing another slow, controlled rotation. His voice rattled in the back of his throat, nails pressing half-moons into the dips of your waist. There was something charming in his restraint; how even in this moment, with his cock buried inside you, he was still trying to maintain his civility.

You tightened your hold on his hair, deepening the connection until you were nothing but a blur of sweeping tongues and hot, heavy breaths. His body trembled beneath you as you gradually began to move, hips grinding and rotating to the rhythm of your kisses, punctuating each slide of his length with a soft, desperate whimper.

A divine friction resonated in your core; his cock a rigid, firm stave, your pussy a soft, pliant sheath, moving together in both harmony and dissonance, like the trill of a choir. With every upstroke, your nipples grazed his open shirt, and when you bore down, an electric current hummed in your clit.

"Fuck." The word stuck between your teeth before escaping in a sigh.

His hands caressed your back, the wide span of his fingers leaving no part of you untouched; squeezing, prodding, tickling, each stroke perfectly in tune with the motion of your hips. You rested your forehead in the crook of his neck, the feeling of his collar against your cheek making you realise he hadn't undressed. Not really. You'd stripped bare for him, offered your unclad body like a tribute for him to bask in. You were a creature of desire, his Mary Magdalene, completely devoted to serve.

You felt your thighs growing tired, sore and shaking, a heavy burn smouldering in your muscles. You relaxed your pace, dropping your full weight into his lap as you slowed your movements to a lazy grind. The new sensation made you moan softly against his skin, savouring the longer, deeper slides, the crown of his cock sinking right down to your soul.

His head fell back, a swallow thrumming down his throat. "My god," he groaned.

A smile pulled at your cheeks, the lord's name in vain so delicious whenever it came from him. And this one was your fault; your body guiding him to commit sin after glorious sin. You placed a kiss on his neck, seizing a moment of boldness by taking the skin into your mouth and drawing a bruise to the surface.

You half expected him to push you away, chastise you for marking him in a place he'd struggle to hide. But instead you felt his arms flex around you, thighs tensing as he moved to plant his feet firmly on the ground. A jolt of spine-tingling pleasure burst through you as he thrust to meet the languid roll of your hips, turning what was supposed to be a smooth, relaxed gyration into a hard, forceful collision. Your mouth fell open, a dazed cry falling from your parted lips.

He growled softly in response, his control waning.

Your pussy tensed around his cock as he slammed into you again, every ridge and groove of your inner walls melding to embrace him. He brought a hand to your face, drawing you into another fevered, hungry kiss. You obliged obediently, as though you were his to use, a disciple eager to please.

You hummed and groaned against his lips with every pump of his cock, the couch creaking beneath the weight of your union, his hand welded to the back of your head, the other on your backside directing your movements. He was driving you towards completion, filling you with a heat and pressure that grew stronger with every stroke. The feeling continued to swell, expanding deep in your stomach until it was dancing along your nerves; setting you alight.

You'd gotten used to not finishing. Alfie's premature climaxes so normalised that you no longer even protested the stuttering hips and garbled moans. Men came. Sometimes you did too, usually alone with your fingers after they rolled off you and went to sleep. But even in the times you did orgasm, it never felt like this.

Your entire body shuddered, cells exploding and stitching themselves back together again. There was a throbbing in your clit, an ache in your core, the brushing of his cock inside you so sensitive you could no longer tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

He kept your head up with his hand, forcing you to look at him as you rode out every last wave, the aftershocks causing your walls to clench around his cock, coaxing him to his own release. He came soon after with a deep, guttural groan, sinking right down to the root as he flooded you with his seed.

You sat breathless on his lap, still joined to him as he began to soften inside you, his eyes so dark it was like staring into the night sky. If this really was what damnation looked like, then you would happily burn for an eternity.

*If you would like to be tagged in the next chapter, please leave a comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the list here

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french-vanilla-in-the-clouds · 2 years

Text

𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Sherlock and Y/N have always teased each other relentlessly, claiming one was fixated on the other. One day while on a case, they realize that their banter holds a ring of truth. Fluff!!!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: Anonymous

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

"Sherlock, its my day off. Explain to me what I'm doing at Barts." Lestrade checked his watch and sighed. "I've already missed the game's first half! This had better be good."

Sherlock sat hunched over his microscope. "It's important," he said, eyeing his work. "It's about your bank robbery, actually. There were palm prints left behind that can be traced back to the suspects."

Lestrade perked up. "You've got a match, then? That's great! I'll send out the cavalry."

"Don't be absurd," Sherlock scoffed. "The results are still processing. We'll know in a few hours."

"I don't understand. Why am I here, then?"

Sherlock peered up innocently. "You told me to keep you updated."

"Bloody hell, you should have texted me!" Lestrade cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "I had to take a cab straight from the other end of the city! Now you're telling me to wait here, twiddling my thumbs while you work?"

Sherlock blinked up at the detective inspector. "My apologies," he said, turning back to his work table.

Lestrade's hands were itching to wring Sherlock's neck when Y/N walked through the lab doors. Her shoes clicked against the linoleum flooring; she was clearly in a rush. "I'm here!" she called, nearly crashing into a rack of instruments.

"About time," Sherlock sing-songed.

Lestrade stared after her curiously. "I thought you'd sit this one out. Didn't seem like Sherlock here needed any help. He even let John off his leash today. I figured I was the only one he suckered into coming in."

"I called, she came," Sherlock cut in. "Perks of having an ardent fan. She's infatuated with me, you know."

Y/N raised a brow, amused. "I know you're desperate for my attention, Sherlock, but let's take it down a notch, alright?" She turned to Lestrade and shrugged. "He called, I came."

Sherlock grinned.

Lestrade glanced at the two of them, unimpressed. Since he'd know the pair, they had always maintained the running joke that one was fixated with the other. Though it had started off as friendly banter, everyone was convinced that there were hidden affections beneath the snark of their words.

"I'm glad you're here at any rate," Lestrade said. "I've got the media breathing down my neck because of these blasted robberies. Maybe you can help him speed things up." He glared at Sherlock on the last bit.

Y/N nodded. "I can try, but I'm not sure if there's much I can do. You know that Holmes is the expert in these matters. He'll figure it out soon enough."

Sherlock smirked. "How very confident you are in my abilities. Though I would advise caution on your part." He lowered his voice to a teasing whisper. "Your obsession is showing."

Y/N feigned exhaustion. "Just as delusional as ever," she sighed. "Now, are you going to sit there grinning at me like a lovesick schoolboy or are you going to solve the case?"

"Right then," he chuckled.

Lestrade darted his eyes between the pair, taken aback for a moment by their unabashed flirting. He rubbed a hand over his temples, annoyed that he had missed the football match for this.

"It's in for a penny, in for a pound with you lot isn't it?" He sighed, glancing at his watch.

"Oh, do lighten up, Inspector," Sherlock said cheerily. "Miss Y/N is simply enraptured by my intellectual prowess. We can't hold that against her."

"Don't you start!" she laughed. "Everybody knows that you're the one who's hopelessly in love with me. You might as well admit to it!"

Sherlock leaned back in his seat. He quirked a brow and studied Y/N. His eyes glinted playfully. "Very well then," he said with confidence. "I'm in love with you."

The room was quiet for a moment. The only sound was the buzzing of the industrial lighting up above. Sherlock folded his hands together casually, awaiting Y/N's response.

"Well?" He asked, amused. "Has the cat got your tongue?"

Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You weren't supposed to say that."

"Say what?"

"That you love me."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't mean it."

Sherlock tilted his head to the side. "Don't I?"

"Oh for crying out loud!" Lestrade laughed. "You two idiots obviously fancy each other! Can we fast-forward the mock surprise and get on to better things?"

Y/N turned to Sherlock, grinning. "Is the detective inspector right?" she asked. "Do you really fancy me?"

Sherlock winked. "Against my better judgment, I can assure you."

She stepped towards his work table and pulled at the collar of his dress shirt. "I knew you would be the first to admit it. Sherlock Holmes, you're positively fixated on me, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Guilty as charged. Now, what would you say to lunch? Granted, Bart's cafeteria food is mediocre at best, but I'm sure you'll be beset with thoughts of me anyway."

"You might be onto something there. Lead the way, Holmes."

Though nothing much had changed between them, the recognition of something already there lightened their steps to the door. Lestrade watched as the pair left the lab without so much as a goodbye, their eyes locked only on each other.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Lestrade smiled. "That's how it is around here."

He relaxed against the counter and settled in for a long wait. He checked his watch; the game had ended. Lestrade let out a contented breath.

He didn't mind at all.

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Hey! Try reading Painted Faces!

Thanks to the anon who requested this! Sorry about the long wait!!!! 💖🧁

If you’d like to be tagged in any future Sherlock fics, just tell me in the comments! (and if you’d rather not be tagged in ALL Sherlock fics, please specify; EX: Reader x Sherlock, Reader x John Watson...)

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geeky-politics-46 · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023 - Day 6

Sex Tape with Doctor Stephen Strange

"A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You are feeling self-concious & down on your appearance, but Stephen has an unconventional idea of how to make you realize how sexy & beautiful you really are.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - body image issues, voyeurism & exhibitionism via photo & video, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, oral sex, creampie, vaginal sex, slight daddy kink, a bit of fluff & a little angst.

You weren't even sure what had triggered your self-image issues at the moment. Honest to God, you were just sitting in bed watching a YouTube video, pursuing the sidebar recommended videos when you started comparing yourself to other people.

It didn't matter if it was just a random ad or a promo for a TV show. You started sizing yourself up to all the actresses, models, and even some normal people. No matter who it was, you felt you couldn't compare.

Your stomach was too big. Your butt was too small. You were too short. Too plain looking. Hell, sometimes you weren't even sure how you compared to average. You didn't think you were hideous, but you forever felt like the ugly duckling. Like the potential to be beautiful was there. It just never blossomed. Or, like you sabotaged being pretty by not having enough restraint to eat better or lose weight.

For once in your life, you wanted to be the bombshell. You were too weird to be the girl next door. You always fell into the quirky/cute and funny category. People fell for you once they got to know your personality, but you knew that never once had you stopped a guy dead in his tracks across the room.

In an effort to make yourself feel smaller, you dug around for your massive old sweatshirt. The one you wore whenever you were feeling sad. The material had piled up in places, and it was starting to get holes in others, but the super stretchy material still felt just as big and cozy as if it was brand new. The dark eggplant purple color was also somehow soothing compared to the mostly blacks and grays of your daily wardrobe.

You had settled back in, deep in your own thoughts, when your partner entered the bedroom. You had been with Doctor Stephen Strange for a while now. Long enough that you had more or less informally moved into the Sanctum. You got to spend more time with Stephen and didn't have to pay rent. It was a win-win. The only downside was that you couldn't hide from him when your inner demons reared up.

You didn't even realize he had been talking to you as he changed out of his sorcerer's robes and into his sweats for bed. It wasn't until he sat down in front of you and lifted your chin up to look directly at him that you realized you weren't paying any attention to a thing he was saying.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

You hated the genuine concern on his face. He spent his days literally saving the universe, and here you were trapped inside your own spiraling thoughts.

"Nothing is wrong."

You said it while staring down at your hands. You were never good at hiding things from Stephen when you were face to face.

"Even if I wasn't a brilliant doctor, MD, and PhD, I know that's your 'I'm sad' sweatshirt. So something is definitely wrong."

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to jiggle loose the thoughts that were waying you down. Not wanting to waste Stephen's time with your shallow worries. Yeah, he was your boyfriend, but he had plenty more vastly important things to do than talk you off a self-image cliff.

"It's stupid, Stephen."

"Don't care. You've listened to me say stupid stuff plenty of times. This just makes us one closer to even."

You rolled your eyes at him, and you knew he wasn't about to give up. Stephen was the most stubborn person you had ever met. In fact, his stubbornness was part of why he pursued you for so long before you finally agreed to go out with him. If he was set on finding out what was bothering you, nothing would stop him until you told him.

So after another moment of trying to get him off the topic, you finally relented and told him what had you feeling down. Shrinking down farther into your sweatshirt as you spoke, fumbling for the right words. Letting the cozy fabric serve as its own kind of armor.

"I don't even know what got me thinking it, but I'm just feeling down on myself. That there just isn't anything about me physically that is special. I don't think I'm ugly, I just don't get why you bothered to even give me a second glance. Let alone what keeps you interested. You are the great Doctor Strange. You are so hot, Stephen, and I'm just me. I'm just plain. I'm chubby with stretch marks. You are gorgeous. You could literally be with the most beautiful women in the world."

You could see him almost flinch when you called yourself plain and that you doubted how enamored he was with you. Even if he knew it was only a passing thought, he never wanted you to question his love for you. Ever.

When it took a few moments for him to say anything in response, you immediately started to take it all back. Not wanting to drag him down into your funk with you.

"See, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm just having a bad night and -"

Stephen cut you off with a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that could make you forget your own name. Cupping your face in both of his hands before pulling away from your lips to place several more small kisses on your forehead and in your hairline. Gradually adjusting so he could pull you closer and wrap his arms tighter around you.

"First of all, I love you so much you don't even know. So don't think for one second I would rather be with anyone else. Second of all, I know that you don't necessarily see what I see when you look in the mirror, and you don't even have to believe me, but you are gorgeous. Do you not see that half the other guys practically trail you around like puppies? Rogers turns bright red when you smile at him, and it's a wonder Barnes and Wilson haven't followed you home like strays yet."

That made you laugh. You did know Steve had harbored a crush on you before you started dating Stephen. Tony had let that spill one night after a party. Both Sam and Bucky were such flirts all the time with everyone. Of course, they always acted sweet on you. You assumed it was just them or their way of being nice. You would have to pay better attention next time you saw them, though. Just to see.

"If one of them does follow me home, can I keep him?"

You squinted your eyes and pouted your lips at Stephen. You loved giving him a hard time, and he loved giving you one right back.

"Absolutely not. Even if they scratch and howl at the door all night long. I'm the only one who gets to keep strays, and that only applies to America. On a good day, maybe Parker."

You giggled and shook your head in agreement. America was definitely a great addition to your little family. It did lift your spirits a little thinking about all of that, but it still didn't leave you feeling better about yourself.

Stephen could see the way you were picking at the skin on your hands. Like you were trying to pick away the self-consciousness or what you felt were imperfections. It was a habit he noticed you fell into when you were extra hard on yourself. So, in an effort to distract you and stop you from picking at your skin, he took one of your hands in both of his.

"Do you remember the day you held my hand the first time? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? I was terrified that you were suddenly going to realize how broken and ugly my hands are. How damaged I am, and realize just how below your own league you were dating. Still are, by the way, so maybe I shouldn't say anything. You are the sexiest most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. Every inch of you is incredible and perfect to me. I thought that before you even said a word to me, and getting to know you, and falling in love with you has only made me more sure. There is no one in this universe I could ever find sexier or more special."

"Tell you what, I have an idea..."

Stephen stood up from the bed, moving over to shut the bedroom door. Throwing the lock, too. Now that you had a teenager running about the Sanctum, it was better safe than sorry. Then, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Setting it on airplane mode as he walked back over to you.

"How about I show you what I see? Give you some actual physical proof of how beautiful you are? A picture is worth a thousand words. I imagine some more revealing, naughty photos would be worth even more."

You chuffed at him and raised a questioning brow at his suggestion.

"Stephen, are you seriously suggesting that I let you take naked photos of me as a way of making me feel better about myself? Are you sure that isn't just gonna make you feel better?"

His signature cheeky grin was plastered on his face, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Can't it do both? Besides, you know I've asked before for something I can enjoy when I can't have you with me, and I think you look perfect right now. Already in our bed. Already cozy and dressed for bed. Few layers to take off. This is the you I want to see when I'm not here with you."

He came over to where you were still sitting on the bed. An extra swagger in his step and a grin because of the blush you were now sporting. He started to pull teasingly at the hem of your sweatshirt with the hand he didn't have his phone in.

"Come on, take this off. I want you to see how sexy you are. I promise I will let you delete them if you want, although I certainly wouldn't mind keeping a couple for myself, but I want you to see how you look when it's just you and me. Right here, in this bed. The version of you that only I get to see, at least I do hope it's only me. A woman who puts all those supermodels and Playmates to shame. Even first thing in the morning. A goddess if one ever existed, even with bedhead and morning breath."

Layer by layer, you let Stephen slowly strip off your clothes and arrange you on the bed. His fingers and lips adoring every new inch of skin that he exposed before proceeding to take picture after picture. Lovingly caressing every spot you deemed less than perfect. Letting him talk you through pose after pose. Some were simple and basic, normal poses. Some a bit more sultry with little left to imagine. The less clothing remained, the more bold he got with your poses.

As your impromptu photoshoot went on, he also tried to distract you from feeling self-conscious about your body coming into view. Sometimes, by making you laugh. Sometimes, by getting a goofy look on his face as he just kind of stared at you. Almost awestruck.

"You really have no idea how much I fantasize about you, do you? How much of my day I spend trying not to think about you? How when we first started dating, I felt like a teenager trying to control his raging hormones because all I could think of was this. What it would be like if I got the privilege to get this beautiful, incredible woman naked in my bed. That I swore if I got you here, I would never let you leave. I hate that someone ever made you feel like you are anything less than gorgeous, whether in your ratty sad sweatshirt or all dressed up. Although, this, no clothes at all, is definitely my personal favorite."

You tried not to tear up at his genuine sweetness. You could feel your cheeks blushing at his statement, too. You buried your face into the pillow you were holding before softly turning and peeking out at him from the side. Only to find him waiting for the moment you locked eyes with him to take a photo.

In a sudden burst of confidence, you bit your bottom lip and rolled onto your back. Letting the entirety of your body be on display. Laying back and resting your head on the pillow and stretching your arms up overhead, your legs spreading on their own. You closed your eyes and arched your back as you inhaled deeply. Like you were a cat basking in the warmth of the sun.

Your mind was completely clear of all thought until you heard a stuttered breath from your lover. It was a sound you had never heard Stephen make before. It sounded like he was looking at a priceless piece of art or one of the seven wonders. He sounded like he was in awe. Like he was in awe at the sight of your body and your beauty.

You were about to dismiss his, what you were sure had to be, over embellished praise, but then you opened your eyes. You were rendered speechless by the look of utter wonder on his face as he let his cerulean blue eyes wash over every inch of you. For possibly the first time, you saw him really seeing you, and it melted any remaining self-doubt you had in that moment.

You immediately reached out to pull Stephen to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. Rubbing your nose against his and whispering loving thanks against his lips.

"Thank you, Stephen. I love you, and even though I don't necessarily see what you see, you always make me feel beautiful. Why don't we take a few pictures together, or maybe a video or two? Maybe I want something for when you aren't here too."

Stephen's eyes darkened at the suggestion. You had your suspicion that Stephen had a bit of an exhibition kink. You had sent each other pics before, a short video clip or two, and sexted all the time. You knew the idea of filming the two of you fucking would intrigue him. A wicked smile found it's way to his face.

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how many times I've thought of you asking that or that I've thought of asking. Are you really okay with filming us fucking? Of course it's just for the two of us. Sorcerer's honor. "

Stephen started trying to fiddle with the phone, trying to figure out the best way to set it up to film the two of you. Finding it hard to concentrate after you started leaving kisses on his neck. Stopping to bite and suck at the spot just below his earlobe before continuing to whisper his darkest desires in his ear.

"Well, Stephen, actually the idea does get me a little hot. Maybe if the video turns out really good, a few seconds or minutes can get leaked to a naughty site or two. Anonymously, of course. I don't want to share you with any other woman, but I wouldn't mind showing off all the ways I worship you. Let everyone see how lucky I am. Maybe get some outside opinions of how we look together."

Stephen's eyes practically rolled back in his head at the thought. He never would suggest it himself, but he kind of loved the sound of that. Of the world getting to see how good the two of you looked together. Of seeing how well you both fit together. How your bodies were made for each other.

He scrambled off the bed using the pile of books on the dresser to create a tripod to set up the phone. Hitting record and making sure the bed was centered in the frame before coming back to join you in the sheets again. He used his magic to strip himself of his clothes. If you two were going to make a sex tape, he was gonna put some extra showmanship in it.

You couldn't help but giggle as you reach your arms out towards him. Stepben didn't waste a minute before he started crawling up your body. Teasing and nipping at your bare skin and making sure to snuggle and rub his goatee against you. Your hands immediately grabbed in his dark brown hair, loving how soft and full it felt in your fingers.

As your lips connected, you both groaned in pleasure. Your bodies grinding and rubbing. Letting your hands roam all over Stephen's body now that you had plenty of him to touch. You could feel Stephen's cock already erect between you. Truth be told, taking those photos of you had essentially acted as foreplay for him. He was ready to go by the time he was setting up the camera.

You moaned when you felt his hard shaft slide against the crease of your hip, so close to your sex that was starting to ache for him. Your legs reflexively spread even more on the large bed, and your nails scraped down Stephen's sides.

"Is there something you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you need."

A sly smile on his face as he spoke. Loud enough to make sure the camera heard. Descending back on you and starting to kiss your neck. Sucking a patch or skin into his mouth hard enough to ensure you would bear a mark the next day.

Your brain finally coming back into focus when he playfully bit the same sensitive spot. His bright blue eyes met yours, and he gave you a cheeky wink.

"Come on, pretty baby. Don't get all shy on me now. Not after you let me take all those naughty pictures of you. Plus, this part was your idea, after all. So you better speak up."

A soft groan pulled from your throat as you arched your back and ran your hands up his strong arms. Letting your fingernails scrape along his shoulders. Leaving little red scratches marking him as yours.

"Want you, Stephen. Want you to fuck me. Pretty please, Stephen. Fuck me like only you can, baby."

He rewarded you with a deep kiss, letting his teeth nip at your bottom lip before he started working his way down your neck. Stopping to whisper a "that's my good girl" in your ear before continuing down to your collarbones. Raising his voice once again so it would be audible on the video when he started speaking again.

"You know you are the only one I want to fuck right? This is the only body that gets me this fucking hard. Your's is the only pretty little pussy I dream about filling up every chance I get. Want you full of my cum all the time. Want everyone to know you're mine."

You felt over the moon as Stephen started to kiss his way down your body. Stopping and spending a little bit of extra attention every time he hit a spot that elicited a gasp or moan. Making you arch your back to give him access to every inch of bare skin you could.

He momentarily popped back up to kiss your lips. Suddenly taking your hand in his and lowering it so you were cupping his hard length. Letting his hips rut forward as you started to eagerly massage his hard cock. Already moving to sit up, anticipating taking him in your mouth, only for him to push you back down on the bed.

"Nope, I'm not done with you, baby, lay back. Just wanted you to feel how hard you got me. Feel how much taking those naughty photos of you turned me on? And they are all mine to enjoy, just like my cock is all yours to enjoy."

With that, he promptly began working his way back down your body. Coming to rest between your thighs, pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Leaving small nips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh and rubbing his facial hair against your skin to tease you.

A soft "Stephen, please!" escaped from your lips as you impatiently waited for his lips and tongue to work their magic on you. Feeling your hips thrust on their own when you felt him blow against your wet cunt. Making your sex flutter and clench. One of his favorite sights.

"Make sure you don't hold back any of those pretty noises darling, want to make sure everyone can hear. Look at the camera as I eat you out, baby."

You followed his instructions and let your head turn to the side. Keeping your eyes open as you stared into the lens. Trying to fight the inkling of self-consciousness tugging at the back of your mind.

Those thoughts vanished completely the moment you felt Stephen's warm tongue make its first pass through your folds. All you could focus on was the feeling of his mouth on you. The scratch of his goatee against your most sensitive spots. He was taking his time. Lavishing your cunt with long licks and sucking kisses.

Stephen was a perfectionist, and that translated into every aspect of his life. Including sex. His photographic memory helping to make sure he knew exactly what way to lick and suck at your pussy to bring you to climax in record time. Only using his fingers on occasion. He could get you there with his mouth alone. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights.

Your back arched as he suckled on your clit. Keeping your gaze locked on the camera lens. Making sure to give Stephen the sights and sounds he wanted for your video. A long moan falling when you felt his tongue thrusting in and out of you. Hitching your legs up higher and farther apart so he could go deeper while letting your hips start to rut against his face.

As soon as he could feel you getting close to orgasm, Stephen pulled away and pounced on you once again. Wasting no time before he started to slowly thrust his hard cock into you. His lips biting at your neck.

He growled when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock bottoming out inside you. Holding perfectly still and letting you start to squirm beneath him. Wanting you to beg him to move.

"Tell me what you want. Want you to say it again. Say it to the camera, sweetheart. Tell them why you're whimpering."

Your face now contorted into a pout as you tried so hard to get any sort of friction. Stephen's hips pushed flush to yours, holding you firmly in place.

"Want you to fuck me, Stephen. Need you to fuck me hard. Make me feel good, daddy. Please make me cum. Please."

He smiled and kissed you deeply. Bringing his hands to cup your face and giving you another moment of sweet intimacy before he gave you what you wanted. Pulling away and pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Scooting you just a little so the camera would be able to see his cock stretching and filling you. Once he had you right where he wanted you he began thrusting.

"You asked for it, sweetheart. You turn me on so fucking much. This is just gonna be the first time I make you cum tonight. I'm not gonna stop until you feel like a goddess. My goddess."

You reached up to intertwine you fingers with his as he started fucking you harder. Leaning forward so your ass was slightly lifted up off of the bed and his tip was pummeling that sweet spongy spot on your front wall. Making you clench around him each time he hit it. Your voice coming out in little squeaks and the sound of skin slapping punctuating Stephen's movements.

You could already feel your orgasm building when Stephen moved to bring one hand down to begin rubbing at your clit. Pulling his cock out long enough to smear some of your wetness on the swollen bundle of nerves. Your cunt immediately clenching around him as he started tracing small circles there with his thumb.

"That's it, my love. Can feel you getting close. You better cum soon because I'm not gonna be able to hold on much longer. Wanna fill you up every day. Mark you as mine. Inside and out. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum."

Stephen's own dirty talk getting the best of him. His head dropping down to watch his cock slamming in and out of your drenched cunt. Your pussy gripping tight around him sending him over the edge. His thrusts getting faster and his fingers on your clit mirroring his hips.

He let out a deep groan as he started cumming inside you. The feeling of his warm thick cum filling you triggering your own orgasm. Your cunt drenching his cock and his cum filling you completely. Your moans mingling in harmony with Stephen's. Your hands that were still clasped gripping each other tighter.

Stephen's body falling onto yours and your lips meeting for slow, sweet kisses as your highs continued to ebb and flow. The sensations slowly fading as you came back down together. The feeling of Stephen's weight on top of you lulling you closer to sleep. All worries and neuroses disappearing and receding back into the depths of your mind.

You were with Stephen, and Stephen loved you exactly as you were. He only had eyes for you, and he would love you no matter what. Even on days when you couldn't see your beauty, you knew he would help you to see it. Even when you didn't love yourself, he would give you enough love for both of you.

Eventually, Stephen rolled to the side and pulled you with him. Settling you under the covers and holding you close. Pressing kisses all over your face as you floated in the twilight space between waking and sleep. Not moving or pulling away until your breath settled into a steady rhythm that told him you were close to sleep.

Then Stephen stood up and went over to the phone. Stopping the recording and bringing the phone back over to the bed. Setting it down on his nightstand and purposely not setting his usual morning alarm. He wanted to sleep in with you tomorrow. He would deal with Wong later.

You were too exhausted to review the products of your photoshoot right now, but the next time you were feeling down or self-conscious, Stephen would be ready to show you just how beautiful you really were. If you still didn't believe him, maybe he would bring up the idea of an outside opinion like you suggested. You would have the world drooling over you, and he would get to gloat that you were all his.

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brunchable · 2 years

Text

All I Ask - Part 1 || Stephen Strange x Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Warning: References to Multiverse of Madness. Angst.

A/N: This is my first time writing, so please take it easy on me. This imagine has been inspired by All I ask by Adele and Arcade by Duncan Laurence (ft. FLETCHER).

PART II // PART III ***Strictly do not: claim, repost, copy, translate my stories anywhere else***

You blankly stared at your reflection as you wore a pair of diamond earrings, it was the very first gift Stephen has given you. There's a lot of things running in your mind; Stephen's unresolved feelings for Christine being the centre of it. It was her wedding day today and you've been invited considering the fact that you're a close friend at work. You straightened yourself up with a sigh, feeling that your beauty is inadequate compared to Christine.

"You look beautiful." Stephen's silky deep voice whispered against your ear before giving you a tender kiss on your temple. His slender, yet scarred hands rested on the curves of your waist.

Stephen's sudden appearance startled you, the mini heart attack causing you to clutch the centre of your chest, "Damn it, Stephen! Will you stop creeping up on me like that? Dating a wizard should come with a warning."

Stephen gave you an offended look through your reflections, stepping away to sit on the edge of your bed, "Uh No, correction, you're dating sorcerer, wizards wear hats and use wands, lame."

"Mhm, and I guess the warnings for Doctor Strange come after you've been bagged right?" You chuckled, reaching for your sweet perfume that Stephen goes nuts for and sprayed it on your wrist then dabbing it behind your ears.

"Are you seriously comparing me with spell books?" His brows raised, feeling a hint of an edginess in your attitude, which he decides to ignore. He was reading this situation as banter.

You remained quiet, because for you, your question had two meanings; one was about his use of magic and two, you know that he is not over Christine. You didn’t know how you hadn't noticed from the very start when all the signs were clear as day. Stephen still wears that damned busted watch, there is sorrow in his eyes when she becomes the subject of conversation, the way he lights up when he talks to her and the way he looks at her.

You searched for those behaviors whenever you're together and by the time you realized he was never going to look at you the same way, you were already in too deep, you didn't have the guts to say anything because you're scared of losing him. You decided that you will wait for him quietly, but it’s been one year and you're close to snapping. You're a ticking time bomb.

•••

You admired the decorations inside the church while you and Stephen sat waiting for the ceremony to start. Doctor West was chatting with Stephen and you quietly eavesdropped on their conversation. The man seemed consumed by grief as he talked about his brother and cats, asking Stephen if there had been another way, "... and still you didn't get the girl." Doctor West said.

Ouch. Was it really necessary to be so brutal? You thought and grimaced.

Stephen adjusted his tie on Doctor West's comment, you could feel that he was hurt by it even though his face remained expressionless. He wasn't the only one who got emotionally damaged though. You clutched onto your dress looking elsewhere but Stephen.

Music began and all the guests stood up as Christine prepared to walk herself down the aisle. She looked immaculate in her white dress, her eyes focused on her soon-to-be-husband as she graciously made her way to the altar.

You turned your body slightly to look at Stephen behind you and there it was again, that longing look, it was obvious that he had tunnel vision towards the bride since he didn't even notice you looking at him. Why am I not surprised? You caught Doctor West's gaze for a split second with water welling in your eyes, as Stephen was fixated on Christine who was fixated on the groom. You quickly turned and wiped them away before they fell, only then Stephen came to his senses, "(Y/N) are you alright?"

You cleared your throat before talking, afraid that your voice might crack,"Yeah I'm fine, weddings y'know? They're a real tear jerker." You lied and laughed it off. You felt his hand cover your smaller ones, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand as consolation. You sat frozen on your seat for the rest of the ceremony, too afraid to look up at Stephen, too afraid that your cup of emotions might overflow.

"Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace." The Pastor asked the guests. Stephen squeezed your hand, his jaw clenched as if prohibiting himself to speak. This man, he is in love with someone else, if this wasn't enough proof then you don't know what is.

•••

You decided to separate from Stephen for a while during the reception, you were feeling a range of negative emotions that you needed to suppress. You hid it well towards your friends and colleagues, you weren’t so sure if you would be able to hide it from Stephen any longer, that's why you needed to remove yourself from his presence.

Stephen hung out at the bar drinking a martini after another round of failing to find you. Christine cleared her throat as she approached the bar where Stephen stood, "A glass of red please." She smiled at the bartender.

You glanced towards their direction from time to time as you caught up with your colleagues, chugging your cocktail and grabbing another from a server that offered. You watched your lover turn water into wine, a sardonic laugh managed to slip from your lips.

Juliet, your work bestie, followed the direction you were looking at and gave you a look, "I warned you from the start girl."

"I know, I know, I was too blind to see that he probably just kept me around to fill in that black hole, he calls his heart." As much as you hated to say it, you did, you downed another glass and grabbed a glass of champagne this time, "Jeeze, I'm so pathetic, what was I thinking I got something that Christine doesn't?" You laughed at yourself, watching Stephen stopping Christine from walking away.

"Don't say that! You are not pathetic. Stupid and blinded? Yes. All you need to do now is to follow your head this time babe." Juliet rubbed the side of your arm, glancing at the other two.

"I want to know what they're talking about." You darted towards the pair, at the same time you made sure that you weren't spotted. Juliet tried to stop you from causing yourself anymore torment but as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted to feel the pain, just in case if tonight doesn't end well, maybe it would be less painful then.

"Christine— I should’ve, " Stephen took a deep breath, "I wish it would've been different– I never stopped caring about us, but I had to make sacrifices… to protect you, I’m sorry." Stephen lowered his gaze.

Christine shook her head, keeping her eyes on him, "It was never going to work out between us."

Stephen raised his eyes to look at her again, her reply stung a lot, "Why not?"

"Because Stephen… you have to be the one holding the knife, and I've always respected you for it but I couldn’t love you for it."

Stephen pressed his lips together, avoiding eye contact this time, "Truly, I’m just glad that you're happy."

Christine nodded, smiling and getting teary-eyed, "I am, I really, really am."

"Good." Stephen smiled though it was a pain.

"Are you? Are you Happy?"

"I'm happy." He said, uncertainty present in his tone. Then the thought of your relationship with him crossed his mind.

"Good, you deserve it. Take care of (Y/N), she's heaven sent." Christine patted his shoulder before walking away from him. Your eyes shut tight while also walking away after hearing Palmer mention you in a positive light. Every noise around you becomes a blurred sound, while all that's been said keeps replaying in your head, you can hear Stephen's words loud and clear. I wished it would've been different– I never stopped caring about us.

Strange noticed your figure walking towards the elevators in a hurry. After not being able to find you in the time frame of being there, he could feel something was wrong because now you're leaving without a word. He ran after you but he was too slow, your eyes landing on each other as the elevator doors shut. At least he had the decency to run after you.

You saw a glow of golden light reflecting all around the elevator's metal walls, "You're really leaving without me?" Stephen asked after stepping out of the portal. You chuckled quietly, amused at the fact you forgot that he could easily catch up to you.

"I could never get used to this sorcery," A cold laugh followed, "And yes I am– was leaving without you, Stephen." You answered his question, your face turning dead-pan. The storm that was brewing inside you was only getting stronger in his presence. Another portal opened in front of you, the other side appeared to be your living room— where you're likely to spend the night alone eating ice cream while you drown yourself with tears. You passed through without hesitation and he followed.

"How much have you heard–" He broke the awful silence between you, the portal closing behind him at will. So he knows.

"Enough. Enough to wake me up from this dream I've been having." You answered his straightforward question with a straightforward answer. You've beaten around the bush long enough to do it now. You didn’t want to tread carefully anymore, you were ready for what's to come, you've had enough.

"What dream? What are you talking about?" He asked with a slight impatience in his tone. His hands grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around to face him.

"I've come to a realisation that I am never going to be good enough for you Stephen. All of this– this– this is one sided, and I was stupid and naive to gaslight myself to believe that one day you will look at me like how you look at Christine." You looked anywhere but his blue eyes, afraid that you would melt and give in your false bravery right now.

"I can't believe this— you're jealous of Christine? Where did we just come from? Her wedding! I can’t have her!" His voice slowly got louder. This time you found the courage to look at him in the eyes, your gaze burning into his soul as you pushed him away from you.

"I am not jealous of Christine, I am everything but jealous. I know you cannot have her and I know she definitely doesn't love you romantically anymore, so why would I be jealous?" You increased your tone as well. Stephen cocked his head back, surprised to get shouted at by you for the first time, "And since you don't have a clue of what I really am feeling– then I will gladly tell you."

"Oh please, enlighten me." Stephen replied through his gritted teeth. His gaze was unwavering.

"I feel unappreciated, unloved, unnoticed–" You began but instantly got cut off by the man.

"So you’re acting like this because of my lack of attention towards you?" He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "That's real mature (Y/N)–"

"Oh for fuck's sake Stephen!" You threw your hands in the air, irritated at the fact that he had the nerve to get narcissistic with you, your patience was hanging by a thread, "You just asked me how much I had heard! You wished it would've been different right? If you had the chance for a different outcome, you would choose–" Her. Your throat burned and had to stop yourself from talking before your voice cracked, you bit the inside of your cheek and swallowed the lump you felt inside your throat.

You continued, "I know you're still holding onto her Stephen, I have for awhile– It’s so fucking obvious."

"If I am then why am I with you?" He asked with his low baritone voice that gave shivers down your spine, he was getting angry and you could tell he didn't want to have this conversation.

"You should ask yourself that– because I. don't. know. Maybe you're lonely, maybe you need someone to make you feel something to mask the fact that you can't get over Christine."

Stephen scoffed, "And you need to understand, that I was gone for FIVE YEARS and when I came back the love of my life was engaged and now married to someone else!" He finally snapped, his angry eyes telling you that his brain is in a different mode, he was incapable of seeing your side of the story at this point.

You flinched at his passion, "I understand how you feel—"

"Oh please, how would you understand exactly how I feel?"

"For the past year Stephen I have watched you love someone else from afar. I've spent my time trying to please you even though it is not enough to make you genuinely happy– I have been very understanding that you prefer wearing that watch or eating dinner at her favourite places over mine, I do the things that remind you of her with you— all because I had hoped that maybe someday you would come to realise the weight of my feelings for you.

And I really thought I could do it forever, because I love you— little did I know that I was self-sabotaging myself in the process. I’ve gained nothing and it’s all at my expense, I have spent all the love I’ve saved and you received all that love and I got nothing in return, what the heck am I supposed to do with that?” You poured your heart out, shouting the words when necessary. You felt free after letting it go, you weren’t able to fight back your tears this time, they burned your cheeks as they dripped down your face. They came as a full acceptance of your emotional pain.

Stephen stayed silent, his eyes flickering as he took the time to let all your pent up feelings sink in. He’s never seen you cry hysterically like that and knowing that he was the cause of it dealt him great heartache and his expression softened. Stephen took a step towards you, his hand reaching for your wrist to pull you into a hug but you pulled away, “(Y/N), I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t touch me! I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to hear your pity when I already feel pathetic.” You took a deep breath before drowning in yourself. You wanted him to say that you’re wrong, that you’re overthinking it; you wanted him to pull you in and kiss you like it’s your last day on earth, but you didn’t need honesty to come out from him in a form of speech, it was already in his eyes that he accepted the fact that he made the mistake, “Do you love me or am I just a rebound?” You broke the deafening silence.

Stephen lifted his blue orbs and locked themselves into yours, approaching you slowly as if he was walking on glass, afraid that you might push him away again, “No of course not (Y/N). I love you.” His scarred hands slightly tremble as they cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away your tears. His eyes flickering between your eyes, allowing himself to get lost in it. Your hands clutching onto his blazer until your knuckles turn white.

“But you’re not in love with me. I have to let you go.” It came out as a whisper, it was probably one of the most difficult things you’ve had to say. Panic took over Stephen after hearing your request, he forced a smile while trying to find the words to say.

“No, don't say that, (Y/N), we can work this out, I can’t lose you too.” He rested his forehead against yours, “Please.” He whispered.

You shook your head, “I’ve got nothing left to offer you Stephen, I had a hunch it would end like this but I still carried on because I was selfish and wanted you for myself, but I can’t— I can’t do this anymore. All I ask of you now is to figure yourself out and find something that truly makes you happy.” You gently pushed him away, “Please leave.” Before I change my mind. You bit your swollen lip and looked down on the floor.

"Is this really what you want?" He asked quietly, like he's also preparing to let go. You nodded bracing yourself as this maybe the last time that you'll be with him, "I'm sorry (Y/N), I truly am." And you felt the warmth of his hands slip away as he disappeared without another word. Once you didn’t feel his presence anymore, your knees gave in and you dropped on the floor, holding your broken heart in your hands.

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