#henry cavill sherlock holmes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loganbcrnes · 1 year

Text

Midnight activities

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!reader

Words: 766

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

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

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

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

#henry cavill #sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x fem!reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes smut #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes x y/n #henry cavill x y/n #sherlock holmes x fem!reader

7K notes · View notes

sherlocksoft · 11 months

Text

The Experiment

Sherlock Holmes x reader

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Sh-Sherlock- I- oh!’

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

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

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

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

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

And then it hit.

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

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

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

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

You nodded, biting your lips together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Ah- ohhh-’

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

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

‘Then please, Sherlock, take me-’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes,’ you chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Tell me about it?’ you breathed excitedly.

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

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

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

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

‘Precisely. “Mycroft” it is.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes, yes I would… I would like…’

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

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

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

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

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

#not s f w 💀#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #henry cavill sherlock holmes #victorian sherlock #henry cavill #sherlocksoft writes

3K notes · View notes

itstheimpossibledream · 1 year

Text

Big

Pairing :Henry Cavill x reader

Warning: Daddy!DomHenry, Smut, Oral, Size Kink

Everything below the cut is NSFW I won’t lie.

Summary : Henry loves how big he looks in comparison to you.

“On your knees.” he commands calmly. You bring yourself to the floor as he unzips his pants. He brings himself out of his underwear practically slapping you in the face as it springs free.

“Sorry.” he chuckles, fumbling to hold himself down.You laugh at the juxtaposition of his handsome face and figure, that exudes this constantly flustered personality. You know he loves seeing his size next to you.He caresses your cheek softly, then replaces his hand with his cock. You look up at him, eyes wide and innocent.

“Open your mouth.” his voice is stern while he gently slaps himself against your face.

“You look so fucking cute like this.” he can tell his compliment perks you up and he does not stop there.

“Come now, open that pretty little mouth for daddy.” he says, tapping his member on your lips. A bit of his precum leaks onto you and he uses the tip of his cock to spread it across your lips. The sigh that leaves his body makes your heart skip. And when you part your lips slightly, he presses down with his thumb popping himself into your mouth. Your eyes widen a bit at the surprise of the expanse he takes up ,practically engaging your gag reflex.

“Fuck that’s good babe.” he says grabbing your hair, angling your face further up so he simply fits straight into your throat. “Mmmm.good girl. Take me just like that.” he praises. You can feel your insides light up at that positive response and can’t help yourself from feeling your pussy juices drip down your leg. He extends his arm down to you, and when you move to take it he lifts you up, swinging you over his shoulder, to the bed.He sets you down much gentler than you had expected.

“Open your legs baby” he coos while hovering over you. You try to squeeze them tighter, almost embarrassed by how much you were leaking all over his bed but, he works one strong hand in between the middle of your upper thighs and spreads them before you get the chance to continue your protest.

“It’s to big” you protest but,he hushes you. Slowly he pushes into you, deeper and deeper, letting out a low growl once he finally finds himself fully inside.

“That’s it darling, make space for me.” he whispers. You can’t stop the noises that escape your lips as he ruts into you,complementing and praising you the whole way.

7K notes · View notes

princessaxoxo · 7 months

Text

Strangers to lovers Part 2

A/N: this is now a multiple-part series.

Sherlock x reader

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

Warnings: 18+ Only, cussing, angst, kissing

Word Count: 2k+

4 years later...

Dressed in your finest clothes with your suitcase in hand, you were ready to head to your family's home for a few days. The train was running a few minutes behind schedule today. Peaking your body and head forward a little, you saw the train before you heard the horn.

You happily stepped back, waiting for the train to come to a stop. You’ve wanted to get away for a while, and you knew spending time with your family would give you some relief. A smile was plastered on your face from the excitement.

People started to unload: parents with their children, lovers hand in hand, and many more.

You bent down to pick up your suitcase and started for the entryway to get on, but stopped once you saw him, Sherlock.

The smile you held dropped from your face. He got off with his brother, Mycroft, both of them talking and then looking around as if they were waiting to meet someone.

You took notice of who they were looking for—of course, Enola.

You took notice of how that relieved you; it made you feel better that it wasn’t another woman. It upset you that you still cared and that you still got jealous; you didn't want to, and you thought it had left, but seeing him again made you show how you still did.

Enola and you had kept in touch but weren’t as close anymore. The both of you would meet for lunch now and then.

Standing there, seeing them talk, you wanted to walk away; you needed to, but you were stuck and couldn't move. It was as if your feet were glued to the concrete. And then, with no warning, Mycroft noticed you, his eyes landing on you, and you knew you looked like a deer caught in headlights; your eyes bulged out.

You weren't breathing; you turned in a hurry before Enola and Sherlock turned to see that Mycroft noticed you.

Secretly hoping he didn’t realize it was you and that they wouldn't be able to tell from your back.

You were cursing the heels you decided to wear; you couldn’t walk fast enough as you were trying to push past multiple people, but you were failing.

All you could do was hope; they couldn’t tell it was you.

Sherlock looked at his brother, noticing Mycroft had turned his attention away. “What is it?"

He looked over at Sherlock. “Hm, your old lady friend was just here. I do have to say, she looked much better."

Sherlock gave a confused face, old lady friend. He thought. Who had he been speaking of?

Mycroft noticed his brother's turmoil. He rolled his eyes. “The one you always ran around with.” Mycroft looked at Enola and said, “She babysitted Enola."

Sherlock realized who he was speaking of now, and he turned his head in search of you, his eyes moving around the crowd of people. You were dressed differently, but he was able to tell it was you just from your backside.

He wanted to know why you were here—were you waiting for someone, maybe a lover?

He knew he had no right to be possessive over you, especially since he left you.

Enola tugged on him and said, “Come along; the carriage is waiting.” Sherlock nodded his head. But he took one look back; however, you were already gone.

“I’ll invite y/n over tomorrow for lunch,” Enola said with a big smile. Sherlock's stomach dropped at the thought. He was sure you would yell at him or hit him. And he wanted to have a conversation with you in private, but it felt too early.

Both Mycroft and Enola stared at Sherlock, waiting for his reaction. “Sound’s great. Can’t wait”

You rushed back home, slamming your door once you reached inside. You felt stupid; why did you rush away? You were over him. You decided a long time ago that you wouldn't allow him to upset you. But here you were, running away from him.

You put your hand on your forehead and started to hysterically laugh at yourself.

After you stopped, you wrote to your family to tell them you couldn’t make it. The excuse was horrible, and to make matters worse, a lie. You despised lying.

The next day, you dropped the letter off, and Enola found you: "Y/N, you must come to lunch with me at my home.” You were unsure of how to answer, "I don't think." Enola cut you off, making sure you weren't able to say no. "Great, I'll see you at 1."

You were left speechless as she left; of course, Enola would be able to find you. And get you to come to her house.

On the carriage ride to Enola’s house, you gave yourself a pep talk. You would only stay for lunch, maybe an hour? And then leave. And you certainly wouldn’t let Sherlock get under your skin; you just wouldn't pay any attention to him.

The home looked the same—more aged than the last time you were here four years ago.

You weren't alone for long before you could take another step. Enola was in front of you, pushing you to the dining room.

You expected to see Sherlock, maybe even Mycroft. But they were nowhere to be seen. “Sit, sit,” Enola excitedly said. “I have some biscuits for us," she said, pushing the tray full of desserts toward you.

Enola and you talked for what felt like hours.

She smiled at you. “I like this change.” She looked at you up and down. You turned your head in confusion about her comment; you hadn't thought you changed that much; you dressed differently; you were more socially acceptable; but that was all.

“Your style but attitude as well.”

You laughed at Enola but thanked her.

Soon after you heard multiple footsteps enter, you turned your head on instinct. As soon as you saw him, your laughter faded. “I do have to say, you look like a lady.” A dig from Mycroft was expected.

You rolled your eyes. “Pleased to see you as well, Mycroft,” you said with a small fake smile.

Sherlock didn't say a word, and neither did you. But the way he looked at you said a thousand. “I enjoyed this Enola. Thank you for the desserts and for making my afternoon. I’m afraid I must go."

“NO! Sorry, would you mind staying with Enola? Me and Mycroft just need a couple of more minutes.”

You were stunned when he shouted, but you agreed to stay with her.

Most of the time, you were in your head, not paying attention to her like you should’ve. All you could think of was Sherlock. You needed to talk to him; it was eating you alive.

Once you heard his office door shut and Mycroft leave, you told Enola that you’d be back soon and headed toward Sherlock's office.

Sherlock heard his door open and shut again. “Need something else, Mycroft?”, He didn’t receive a response.

So he turned his head and saw you standing against the door, speechless.

He coughed, "Y/N, how may I help you?” Sherlock was having a hard time looking at you.

"You... you actually can’t help me at all," you said, and he raised his face.

“After I say this, I am going to leave, and you won’t see me again; you don’t deserve to see me again."

He swallowed, getting ready for what you were going to say. Sherlock knew he deserved every insult and every hurtful word you would give him.

“You left me. You left me with only a letter; I couldn't believe that you didn't tell me in person. I waited for you all night. Once I saw the sun rising, I knew you were indeed a coward. A coward who didn't love me. A person who loves you wouldn't have done what you did."

Tears started to brim.

“I saw a life with you. And I thought.. " you sarcastically, let out a chuckle. “I thought you saw one with me too. But I realized I was just another fling to you.” You shook your head at him. “But just answer me: why would you let our relationship bloom just for you to let it go without a problem?"

Sherlock stared at you wide-eyed. “I am first and foremost a detective; I have always been that and never said otherwise. And I admit, I regret and have regretted the way I left you. You deserved more than that. But I loved you, and I still do. With every part of my being.” Sherlock patted his chest, where his heart was. “I couldn't let you go, not after that night. That night, you became mine. I knew what would happen, but I didn’t care. I was selfish. I am a very selfish man when it comes to you. There are things I regret, but I don’t regret keeping you to myself. And I never will.”

Sherlock walked towards you.

Your eyes stayed on him. “Thank you. I’ll take my leave now."

But your feet didn’t move; you were stuck in your place by his eyes that were blazing within.

“Okay, take your leave,” he said, and you nodded your head. Sherlock took notice that you weren't moving, reached behind you, and opened the door.

As your eyes didn't leave him, they spoke a thousand words you couldn’t say to him. Sherlock clenched his jaw, waiting for your next move to see if you would leave.

He slammed the door shut and grabbed you by your face, kissing you with passion. He pressed his body against yours. "Sherlock,” you whispered.

He didn't want you to speak; he wanted to kiss you. He never wanted to stop kissing you. He feared that if he did, you would leave and he wouldn't see you again, just as you said earlier.

You knew what was going to happen if you stayed; you were deciding what you should do.

“y/n, stay with me. please. I don’t want to lose you.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I have to go. If I stay, I’ll be the one who ends up hurting again.” You backed away from him and left. You said your goodbyes to Enola and tried to rush home.

Sherlock caught you outside. “Fuck, please stay. I’m begging.” He got down on his knees and hugged the lower part of your body. “I thought of you as someone who would never hurt me, but you did. You can’t just say sorry and beg me and think that’ll make up for your actions."

A tear fell from your eye, and Sherlock rose to his feet. “Are you going to forgive me?”

You put your hand on his cheek. “You need to earn my forgiveness."

He ran his hand through his head of curls. And shook his head continuously. “Let me at least see you home”, “No, you stay, and I’ll go. Have a good night, Sherlock.”

As you returned home, you were torn.

You wanted to forgive him, and he had you so close to letting that happen. You wanted to stay with him and forget the past. The other part of you was happy that you left; he needed to stir, and he needed to be without you.

Sherlock had many sleepless nights, but this one was the worst of all. All he thought of was you. His hands didn’t leave his hair, countlessly running them through and tugging on his stands. He started thinking of what he could do to earn your forgiveness. To get you back within his reach.

He hadn’t realized how long he had stayed up until he left his office and saw the morning sun. With the bright rays burning his eyes, he shielded himself from the sun.

Sherlock sat at the table, staring off into nothingness.

He heard a voice. “What are you going to do about her?"

Sherlock looked behind him and saw Mycroft. “That lady you seem to be interested in, what are you going to do?"

Sherlock only had one answer.

“Anything.”

Part 3

#henry cavill smut #henry cavill #first post #sherlock holmes #angst #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fandom #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #mini series

464 notes · View notes

geminijade · 6 months

Text

Soldier Boy 🥵🔥

370 notes · View notes

padfootdaredmetoo · 7 months

Text

Complete master post of all spicy stories below!

Peaky Blinders

Comfortable - Thomas Shelby x Reader - Pt 1. Pt 2

While everyone else is away you get stuck at home with Tommy planning Polly’s Birthday party. Normally the two of you fight and bicker constantly. This time something different happens.... Loss of virginity, sex, enemies to lovers

Jealous - Thomas Shelby x Reader - Pt 1. Pt. 2

Tommy gets jealous when the reader runs into an old friend at the ar. Friends to lovers, confession of feeling, Pt 1 is all fluff & Pt 2 is all spice

Are You Asking? - Thomas Shelby X Reader

A younger reader (legal) who is friends with Ada surprises Tommy when she comes back from a trip abroad. Fluff and Smut

Tipsy - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Tommy teases the reader for getting tipsy, he walks her home and sees what happens. Hurt /Comfort & mild smut

The Italian Spy - Thomas Shelby X Reader

The Reader is an Italian girl who wants Tommy's help but gets a lot more than she bargained for. Hurt comfort & smut

Bloody Hell - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Things get messy when Tommy goes after the Italian cook in the kitchen. Explicit sex while being covered in blood

Threesome - Thomas Shelby X Reader X Alfie Solomons Pt.1 Pt.2

Double penetration with Alfie and your husband Tommy - Possessive & rough

Bubbly - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Super smart reader, struggles of being very pretty and anxiety, Falling for your boss. Fluff, & mild smut

Fix It - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Sex, fighting, depression, drinking, drug use, unhealthy weight loss, Esme & Polly to the rescue, Tommy fixes it. Hurt/comfort, Fix it fic,

Arranged Marriage - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Sex, loss of virginity, slow burn, falling in love, fluff and smut

Wedding Night - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Sex, loss of virginity, fluff, cuteness, rough sex, the reader gets a little bruised but she’s happy about it

Tiny Dancer- Thomas Shelby x Reader

Sex, hurt comfort, falling in love, Shelby family drama, happy ending, hurt comfortt

Jealous Wife - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Tommy's young wife gets jealous of all the attention he gets. Rough emotional sex

Dom Assasin Reader X Thomas Shelby

A violent and sexy tale of revenge...

Mustache - Michael Gray X Reader

reader has a gun, negotiation that ends in sex, woman on top, taking what she wants, no thoughts of consequences, happy cheeky ending.

Never Safe For Work - Thomas Shelby X Reader -- Pt2

A reader with a high sex drive, and the things Tommy does to keep up - with Gifs

High Sex Drive - Arthur Shelby X Reader

Arthur Shelby trying to keep up with his wife - With Gifs

Enemies Make the Best Lovers - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Reader and Thomas are well-known rivals when a business trip from hell forces them to work together they must overcome their rocky past

Tangerine

Stop the World

After years of working against each other out in the field. This time you decide its best to team up - the aftermath leaves you weak in the knees

Tangerine Dream

Blue light room smut - you meet a man at the club and decide to go upstairs.

Baby Girl

Tangerine and the Reader get caught in a sticky situation and he finally understands the effect he has on her - Heavy Dom / Sub

Sherlock Holmes

Irene - Sherlock X Reader

The Reader is not impressed with Sherlock's long-time friend. SMUT

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #bullet train smut #tangerine smut #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes smut #master post #smut masterpost

412 notes · View notes

espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

Text

If Only You Would Know

HenryCavill!Sherlock x Female!Reader

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

a/n: we're diggin' out old old drafts for this one, but I needed a little Sherlock again :)

word count: 4k

warnings: a little arguing, pining, someone gets injured, idiots in love™️ (it's a new genre of mine)

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

You sighed as Sherlock moved about his office with hasty determination. He was a strange man. Oblivious, too, time and time again. But that did not matter for you loved him. You loved him and every strange habit he harbored. Whether it was the way in which he arranged his coats on the brass hanger by the door or that godawful pipe he seemed to always have hanging from his lips. He did not even like it - he had told you one time. “’tis just a habit, dear,” it would muffle past the brown bit in his mouth before he would clip it back between his teeth.

But you did not care. And that must have been the very fact telling you just how deeply your heart had already fallen for the famous detective. Not a care in the world, especially not for what other people thought to say the least. Because all you ever thought about upon seeing him was love, warmth, and endearment. Nothing less. Not even a wretched criminal could ever shoot these feelings out of your heart.

Oh well, it did not matter, anyhow. For there was one issue keeping this fairytale from becoming reality. And this issue was that Sherlock Holmes, the brightest man you knew, was blatantly oblivious to the feelings you had harbored in your chest. To be fair, you had never mentioned it to him before. For you were simply terrified of the consequences such a confession would hold. It was one thing to pine over a man who you were lucky enough to be in the same room with, but it would be undeniably humiliating to be rejected by said man as well. So you had chosen not to act on the fiery desire burning within your veins whenever your eyes hushed a glance at him.

As much as that decision was made to protect your heart, it had turned out the circumstances provided the opposite of the desired effect. You were hurting more and more with every day you had to live with the realization that Sherlock Holmes did not love you back. In fact, he loved other women - many of them. And every single one more beautiful than the other. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if they were human at all. Never before had you seen such luscious hair as that of Sibyl or such a beautiful smile as that of Amelia. It was difficult to settle with these gorgeous women having a place in his bed and possibly his heart, but soon, you realized the importance of seeing him happy trumped your own desires. If he was happy, so were you. And if you weren’t the one making him happy, so be it.

You had just come here to see Enola from her home to the city. Stopping by her brother’s apartment had not been on the agenda, at least not yours. But Enola was adamant to have you come when she raced up the stairs to his door. You had gasped when Sherlock had opened, his hair slightly disheveled and the shirt loosely tugged in his trousers. Your heart was pounding - it always happened when you saw him, and you swiftly averted your eyes to hide the flustered look on your face from him.

Now you were standing in his messy home as you listened to Enola convince him to let her help him on a particular case of his - one she had a personal attachment to. Mixed emotions crawled up your spine at the sight of this professional yet intimate space. Not only one room over, Sherlock's bed was mockingly standing beyond the door, messy sheets indicating his prior endeavors, but there was no Sibyl or Amelia in sight. Still, your hands clamped around the silky material of your skirt, wrinkling the fabric harsher with every minute you spend in the deep-colored room. It smelled of musk and tobacco. Two things you had grown to miss whenever they were not surrounding you, but now, it was a shiver too much.

Sherlock stood before you and Enola with his hands on his hips, a look of annoyance and disapproval etched on his features, but nonetheless, a sense of amusement in the edges of his frown. You knew him too well not to notice the slight pride swelling from his chest at his little sister’s determination.

“I believe it is too dangerous for a girl like you to wander the streets, chasing criminals through London, Enola.”

“And I believe that you are an idiot, brother.”

“Perhaps,” your finger lifted in suggestion, stopping Sherlock’s head from tilting in disapproval at his sister’s array just in time. “She can be accompanied in her wandering?”

“And who would this accompany be?”

You knew it was not your place to negotiate, but you cared for Enola too much not to. And even though Sherlock’s stern eyes bore into your frame, you began to talk again: “I could-“

“Oh, dear lord. That is out of question.”

“Why brother? Do you not think Ms. Y/N and I can defend ourselves?”

A short silence lay upon the siblings as you watched the man’s shoulders draw up with a tense jaw. “I said no.”

“You are being irrational.” Enola cried. She was not one to accept defiance easily, you were well aware of it.

“No, you are being irrational. I will not vouch for having two women hurt on a mission to gather intel for my cases.”

“You cannot stop me.”

There was something itching in the glimmer of his eyes when the words left his lips, though you weren’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Enola!” Almost fearfully, Sherlock turned to you, his eyes wandering and desperation conveyed in his stare when you heard the young girl open the door.

“I am sure we can negotiate a way to have both parties satisfied.” Enola halted as you spoke. “I am certain your bother has other tasks that need fulfilling and are less prone to danger. Isn’t that right, Mr. Holmes?”

Sherlock was not entirely satisfied with this turn of events, but his sagging shoulders told you that he accepted the compromise. A sigh eluded from his lungs and Enola turned to the dark-haired man with excited eyes. “I presume, there would be things you could do.”

“Thank you–“

“But,” his eyes turned stern again, “In the office only. No more wandering, is that clear?”

Enola beamed. “Yes.”

❁ ❁ ❁

It was not long after the discussion when you and Enola went about home from the city. Still, however, despite the seemingly fair compromise negotiated just minutes prior, the younger woman sloppily trudged next to you.

“He is an idiot, that is what he is.” Enola stomped past you with a pouty face. It was not ladylike, but luckily, she knew that you were not one to care about that.

You understood Enola’s frustrations, but simultaneously, your heart were to break if anything ever happened to her. So you understood the settled worry in her brother’s words as well. He was a good man. “He is just worried. It means he cares.”

“Well, he could care a little less and let me do my job.” You hid a smirk. Only Enola would be as adamant about saving a boy she had only met days ago. She was just as goodhearted and justice-seeking as Sherlock, and your heart warmed at the similarities the siblings shared.

“It is not your job, Enola.” Sometimes you genuinely admired her fixation, though it mostly converted into trouble, still. Enola had a lot more freedom than you did when you were her age, and you too would have sprung at any chance to go and wander about, seeking adventures and perhaps a little more than that. Which was in turn, why your heart felt torn between the fulfillment of having her seek childhood dreams, and the subtle but strong tug Sherlock Holmes held you with.

“Did you forget what we just found out yesterday? It seems no one cares about him. And if nobody else will do it, I consider it my duty to help.”

“Enola, dear.” You held her shoulders gently. “I understand your worries, but I understand your brother’s as well. I would be just as worried about you if something were to happen, and I do not want to see you hurt, either.”

“But we have to do something!” This was true. It would not be right to leave the boy framed with false accusations when you had the power to change his fate. There was something you could gather - information that may help him be acquitted.

“How about I go?” You silently cursed your good intentions as Enola’s eyes lit up. It was a blessing and a curse. But other than Enola, there would be nobody worrying for you, and in turn a lot less hearts broken if something were to happen - which it surely would not. “You can stay in the study and I will see to it that we may gather more information.”

“Alright, but be careful. And make sure to come back by five. Otherwise, someone will get suspicious.” The girl smiled, but her shoulders shook with excitement.

“What? Do you think I’m stupid?” You teased, awaiting a sassy ‘of course not’ which you returned with a wink.

❁ ❁ ❁

Enola watched the clock next to the window. Seconds, ticking by too fast for her liking. She needed more time - you needed more time. Her brother had given her files to sort and he would be coming back soon. Upon your agreement yesterday, you had gone out to gather information on the woman who accused the boy. But you would be back soon, she told herself.

“Is Ms. Y/N not here with you?” Sherlock’s voice called through the room and his steps approached her steadily.

Enola was stiff. “She is out,” she told him while her fingers counted the pile of files on the desk.

“Out? With who?” He stepped around the polished mahogany, settling in front of her with his hands behind his back. “I didn’t realize she was being courted.”

Oh. Enola’s eyes sparkled with amusement when she obtained a glimmer of jealousy in her brother’s. She had always had her suspicions. And she knew of your being madly in love with her brother, but Sherlock had always been secretive regarding the topic of love.

“She went to shop,” she smiled, averting her eyes. Waiting - no, anticipating a response from him.

“So she is not with anyone.” Sherlock leaned forward with squinted eyes. For a man as good at solving puzzles as he was, he did need an awful lot of confirmation.

Enola finally looked up. “Ugh, you really are an idiot.”

“Would you quit calling me an idiot?” Disapproval swept his features and made a frown settle instead.

“I would, but you won’t quit being an idiot.”

“Whatever do you mean?” It was quite amusing to see him clueless for once. And even though you tried to hide your feelings or the way you responded whenever he was as much as in the same room as you, it did not go past Enola how long your eyes lingered on his frame or the way the sadness overtook your features at the mention of another woman.

“Ms. Y/N is head over heels in love with you. And I do not understand why you refuse to see it, she is not hiding it very well, you see?”

Sherlock stumbled back, his hands seemingly finding their pace over his heart when he repeated her words. “Ms. Y/N? In love with me?”

“And you really call yourself the greatest detective of our time.” Enola shook her head. Still, the thought of the two of you together was one she liked to entertain. And she asked herself just how much you could talk Sherlock into once you were together. He was already caving when you suggested things - the possibilities of Enola getting her way when the both of you finally gave into the pining were endless!

“Oh, hush. I just never thought she would...” Sherlock trailed off, and if Enola was not mistaken, she caught a whisper of pink settle over his cheeks. Could it really be? The great Sherlock Holmes in love? Even better with a woman Enola adored as well?

“This is exactly the problem, brother. You don’t think when it comes to women.” Her mind wandered back to the women you had seen leave his chambers by the break of dawn. And just like then, Enola noticed a familiar sense of sadness wash over her brother’s eyes - the same one you hid from her in these moments.

“Enola...” But his words died on his tongue and Enola thought it wiser to resume her task. Sherlock was aware of his idiocy. For Enola knew just how insignificant all the other women were to him. And she hoped he had realized this fact.

A moment or two passed in which Sherlock paced the room mindlessly. His hands disappeared behind curtains and in bookshelves, until they reached for the pocket watch in his coat and a subtle grumbling eluded his lungs. “She should be back soon, anyhow. Should she not?”

“I suppose, yes.”

“Well, it is quarter past five already. The shop is closed well over an hour now.” Sherlock did not hide the impatience in his tone, now. And Enola felt a wave of success wash over her.

It was difficult to hide her nervousness, though, for she now worried about you as well. But you were fine - she consoled herself. You were tough and intelligent, simply a little late - that was surely it. “She will come soon.”

An unusual tension fell over the room and Enola was certain, her brother had already dismissed her little story. But she would not falter. Her fingers kept cramming through the papers, counting pages she had analyzed and sorted two times by now. Her movements, however, became more frantic, and soon, her heart was pounding in her wrists.

“Enola, what in heavens did you do?” Sherlock urged impatiently, a look cold as a stone set on his face.

“Nothing.” She did not look at him, then he would know instantly - the little lie she told.

“You sent her out to spy didn’t you?”

Why did he keep asking if he already knew the answer? Enola did not speak. She was fairly ashamed, though. She wanted to show her brother just how capable she and you both were. But having you not come back made for a serious difficulty to her plan.

She looked up at him now, just in time to see his shoulders sag and his head tilted up in frustration. “After I told you not to?”

“You only ever forbid me from going!” She cried, suddenly feeling attacked by his irrational outburst.

“I did not want Ms. Y/N out in the streets alone, either.” Sherlock was pacing again, his shoes clicked on the polished wooden floor until the reached the coat hanger by the door, only to gruffly rip the dark cloak from its place.

An accusing finger reached in his direction and a small smirk appeared on his sister’s lips. “So you are in love with her.”

The man frowned and his chestnut locks shook with annoyance. “That is not important right now. We need to find her.”

He did not deny it and Enola Holmes viewed it as a success.

❁ ❁ ❁

Sherlock swept through the streets as fast as his feet could carry him. Never had he thought that he would need to worry about your well-being. Enola’s? Yes, constantly. She did dangerous things all the time. But you were the one with the rational mind, the trait he adored most above all, for it eased his own every so often. It was enough to look out for Enola as much. He loved her and that was what love did: It made for weaknesses. Though Sherlock never wished to not adore you as much as he did, at this moment, it would have spared him trouble.

He passed another alley filled with dubious fellows and willed his thoughts not to stray to dark paces. Normally, he could stay focused. Normally, he was able to separate his feelings from his tasks very well. Normally, he needn’t worry about you, however.

Enola was many steps behind, he could hear her heels clicking in haste in her catching up, but Sherlock would not budge. He would keep on searching, keep on going straight until his sister gave him another direction to follow. She knew where you were after all, and he could not even begin to indulge in the worry-consumed anger this fact fueled him with.

It did not take long for the detective to reach the house of the last suspect he had abandoned in his search for answers. You must have gone there. Enola had been especially furious about his dropping the woman upon questioning, urging her brother to stay on the lead. But Sherlock had already gotten enough information to place her in the entire scheme. Enola did not know this of course - he had never told her. So it was only plausible to send you to spy on said woman. What you had not known, however, was the dangerous affiliates this woman had, and the little to no hesitance of hers to pursue them.

The house lay empty on the street once the siblings reached its steps, no light shining through the glass windows, not the smell of dinner lingering in the air. It was odd, though nothing to be upset over. You had been here, Sherlock knew it. He was disappointed to find out, however, that you were not anymore. Of course, you had realized the danger of the situation and left, but where to?

His head jerked to the left once Enola caught up to him, following the rattling of bins coming from the alley close by, where a faint trail of blood droplets mixed with the rain.

“Bloody hell,” the detective mumbled with every inch it lead him further to your location. And sure enough, beyond the shielding confines of a wooden palette, he spotted your coat pressed into the wall.

A small hiss, and then: nothing when he called your name.

“Ms. Y/N, heavens!” He rushed over once his eyes caught your distraught face behind the wood, your entire hand covered in blood, pressed to your head, where more seemed to have already dried on your scalp.

“Mr. Holmes?” Your voice was weak, your eyes hazy - growing in the confusion the head injury most likely brought to you.

Sherlock's arms reached out to engulf you, a handkerchief quick to be pressed on your head as he knelt beside you and let your body rest against his torso. “Enola, go and get help, immediately!” He commanded with urgency, having the young girl run off with a shocked nod.

His attention traced back to your body, where his eyes focused on your heavy lids and his heart clenched at the sight. You were hurt - seriously hurt - and Sherlock could not shake the feeling of it being his fault. Had he only consulted you in his case, had he talked to Enola, had he been less cowardly and finally admitted to his feelings. This all might have never happened.

“You should not have gone out alone!” He cried as he rocked you back and forth, his arms held you a little tighter, and he was certain that his heart beat through the several layers of clothing separating you.

“You have no right to rule over me.” Your hands pressed against his chest, forcing him to let you pull away from his embrace, and Sherlock instantly missed the warmth holding you had given him. He needed it back - confirming you were fine.

“But I told you not to go!” Big eyes stared up at him, but there was disappointment simmering beneath the sheer gleam of anger.

“Why are you upset? I can do whatever I desire!” It was meant to come out strong, but not even a woman as tough as you were able to hide the weakness taking over your body.

“But you got hurt!” Sherlock was juggling with empty arguments, he knew this much. But there was no right way to express what he wished to pursue with his words. It was all too much and not enough, all the same.

“Mr. Holmes, I can take good care of myself. I have done it my whole life.”

“And you shouldn’t have.” This seemed to have caught you by surprise. For you stopped in your shuffling away and held his gaze equal in confusion and intrigue.

“Whatever do you mean?” You shrieked softly, your breath staggering when he came closer to you.

Sherlock found it incredibly difficult to talk, suddenly. His hands were clammy and that stupid tie around his neck seemed just a tad too tight. Christ, he could not even look at you. He was left staring towards the wet grounds with his hands wringing beneath him.“I- it has come to my attention that I lack perception in some categories.” He hushed a look at you and was not surprised to see utter confusion seeping through your stare.

Sherlock sighed and his shoulders jumped heavily once he mustered up the courage to explain: “I do not wish to see you hurt.”

“Why?” Your eyes were big and wondrous, much like a curious child prying up in awe over what it was to become privy of.

Sherlock tried, he really did, to be steady and informative, but there was no use, for his heart had decided otherwise. “Because... because, I- my heart hurts when I imagine something happening to you.”

“But what about Sybil or Amelia… or Babette?” Every name stung another hole in his heart as your eyes saddened naming the woman he had spent previous nights with in order to get over you. He never loved them, never adored them the way he did you. They were simply a distraction. A petty compromise for the actual being he was sure would never return his affection. Now that he found out the opposite, Sherlock was uncertain about how to act.

“These women... they were just compensation for the one I couldn’t have.” He confessed slowly, his hand reaching for you and finally getting ahold of your chin. “I did not think you would be interested in me.”

“Oh but I am, Sherlock.” Your fingers came to cover his. “I am.” And an unbelievable force of warmth and calmness washed over him. Despite the blood, despite the worry. Despite everything being wrong at this very moment, he was calm. You had this effect on him.

“I know that now. My sister told me.” Sherlock sent a silent prayer to the stars. Had his sister not been as persistent he would have never gotten the opportunity to hold you close - feel you the way he desired.

“She is quite a smart lady isn’t she?” A low chuckle echoed through the darkening alley, though a shy blush crept upon the detective’s cheeks.

“As much as I hate to admit it, she is a good detective.” His thumbs stroked gentle swipes over your skin, a sliver of warmth tasting your body with every movement, and it felt good to have you indulge in his touch. He would have never dreamt of having you this close, having you feel the same feelings he did. And to be perfectly honest, experiencing it, in reality, was a hundred times better than anything he had ever imagined. “God, Y/N. If only I had known earlier.”

“Let us not grieve what is already done. Embrace the possibilities of the future with me.” Your eyes locked with his once again and your aura seemed to pull him even deeper into a trance. Sherlock could not look away. He was captured by every loving emotion radiating off of you. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. But he would keep it guarded in his chest for eternity, even if nobody were to ever ask him about it. It was precious - this moment was worth hundred terrible ones.

“You are right,” he agreed, and then, beyond his control almost, Sherlock pulled you into a warm kiss.

Wanna be added to the Taglist?

@mi-amoree111 @xxinvisiblexx @lastwandastan @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @pevensiemadness @mrsgweasley @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn

2K notes · View notes

ellethespaceunicorn · 10 months

Text

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Title: Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Fandom: Enola Holmes series

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Warnings: age gap(reader is about 20 in this, Sherlock is mid-30s), slight voyeurism, masturbation (male), handjob, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up y’all), creampie

A/N: I’ve been throwing around this idea about Sherlock for quite some time. I hope you enjoy it. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You’ve been friends with Enola for a short time, only since the beginning of the year. She’s led you on a few fun adventures, but more often than not, she’s led you on wild goose chases. She has helped you come out of your shell and you are grateful for that. On days that you weren’t exploring the countryside or causing a ruckus in the city, you would lounge around her large house.

Spending time with her in her large house had its benefits. One of which was 6’1 with a head of unruly curls. The famous Sherlock Holmes was your best friend’s big brother. He lived in the city but came to visit Enola every week.

You always made sure to be available on those days. If only for the chance to say hello to Sherlock. You wanted more but, truth be told, he made you a bit nervous.

You tried your best to keep calm when he would arrive, but Enola noticed your demeanor change every time. She teased you endlessly about your little crush and you would always bring up Tewkesbury. That would usually shut her up.

In truth, she did not care that you liked her brother, she just didn’t want you to waste your time. The man was not exactly sociable unless he found value in the opinions of others. One opinion he respected was that of his sister. You could sit and watch them talk for hours. She would get him to laugh with her jokes, and he would bring her to annoyance with his riddles.

You would interject a thought here and there and when Sherlock would give his attention to you, you froze. Something about the look in his eyes, it was more than attention. It was intense as if the two of you were the only ones in the world let alone the room.

More than once, Enola had cleared her throat loudly to get you and Sherlock’s attention back on her. But sometimes, she would just listen to you ramble on while Sherlock seemed enthralled in your thoughts. You mused about music and how interesting you thought his cases were. The more you spoke with him, the more comfortable you felt around him.

Sherlock would show up now and then with little trinkets from his cases. At first, it was just things for Enola, but soon he would start bringing you little gifts as well. He started small with a single flower or a tasty treat from his favorite bakery. But soon, his gifts grew oddly specific. He bought you a brooch you had mentioned seeing at a store in the city. He would learn pieces of music from a composer you talked about and play it for you, much to the chagrin of Enola who wasn’t a fan of the violin.

It was when he didn’t visit for two weeks that you started to realize you were developing feelings for the older detective. You’d come to enjoy his presence and not because of his gifts. You just enjoyed seeing his face light up when he saw you. You relished the power you felt when the normally unflappable and distant man would sit enthralled when you gave voice to your thoughts.

So, why did it stop so suddenly? Had you done something to offend him?

You wracked your brain and Enola’s brain for that matter. She gave you his address so you could go and talk to him and she could finally be free of your fretting.

You arrive at 221 Baker Street, your hands trembling as you knock on the main door. A sweet woman opens the door and introduces herself as Ms. Hudson. When you ask to speak to Sherlock, she sends you up the steps to 221B.

As you’re about to knock, a man opens the door and almost collides with you.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. May I help you, Miss?”

“Ehm, I’m here to see Mr. Holmes…but I can come back if that’s–” You are cut off when he speaks again.

“You wouldn’t happen to be friends with Enola, would you?” You nod, giving your name, “Of course, Sherlock mentioned you. I’m Dr. John Watson, and I have to be going but you are more than welcome to come in. Sherlock is just in his room down the hall.” He points around the corner from the door and walks past you before waving goodbye.

So, that’s how you end up in Sherlock’s apartment. It is eerily quiet and you think he might be asleep. That is until you hear soft moans coming from down the hall. Your first thought is it must have been the floorboards creaking under your feet.

What you hear next is the unmistakable sound of your name followed by a whimper. It sounded like Sherlock was calling to you, but how would he know you were here already? You walk down the hallway quietly and see that his bedroom door is slightly ajar.

Peeking in, you are blessed with a sight! Sherlock is laid out on his bed with his shirt and waistcoat open, his hairy chest on full display as it rises and falls quickly. His beautiful face constricted in pain one second, solemn and peaceful in the next. His curls are a sweaty mess on his forehead. One hand is fisting the sheets at his side and the other hand is wrapped around his thick veiny dick. You’re mesmerized watching him stroke himself until you hear him moan your name again.

In a moment of bravery, you step into the room. Your bosom heaves in your bodice as you breathe shallowly, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

His hand stops its ministrations and he looks to you as you walk towards him. He’s frozen on the spot and can only watch you as you climb atop the bed and lay next to him. You replace his hand with yours and continue to pump his dick. Your hand barely fits around him and you enjoy the feel of his soft uncut length in your hand.

His hands come up to caress your face and pull you down for a kiss. When his tongue begs for entry, you allow it in. Heatedly, you mold your mouth to his, letting your moans and whimpers be consumed by him. Breaking the kiss, he looks into your eyes and you can tell he is close.

You remove your hand from him and stand up from the bed. It is only when you remove your undergarments does Sherlock understand why you stopped. Climbing back on the bed, you settle yourself with your cunt dripping onto him.

“I want you to be certain that you–” You cut him off as you slink down, his velvety smoothness sliding inside your wet heat. You take a moment to get used to the sheer size of him. He stretches you almost painfully. Leaning down, you whisper into his ear.

“Do I seem certain, Mr. Holmes?”

Instead of an answer, Sherlock groans and twitches inside you. His hands travel under your skirt and rest on your hips. You take that as a sign and sit up. With your hands on his chest, you begin to ride him slowly, agonizingly to the point where his hands start to guide you to a quicker pace.

Using you like a ragdoll, he flips you so he is atop you while you are on your back. He slams into you repeatedly and you are no longer in control. He savors the sounds coming from you as he fucks into you. He urges you on as he kisses and licks and nips at your neck, careful not to leave any marks.

Pulling out, he moves you to your hands and knees before inserting himself again. The angle allows him to go deeper and you thank the Gods for it. As he holds onto you, he hammers into you. The filthy utterances that come from his mouth only serve to solidify the notion that he missed you too.

“I knew you would feel like Heaven, my sweet angel…”

“This pretty pussy belongs to me now…”

“You would look so perfect with my cum dripping out of you…”

“I could fuck you all day and night and still never get enough of you…”

“Be my good angel and come all over my cock,” He reaches down and rubs your clit between two fingers as he plows into you. You never stood a chance, your walls quivering around him within moments, “That’s my good girl. So good…for me. Fuck, so close!”

“Sherlock, please! Need you to fill me with all you have to give!” You surprise yourself and your lover with those words.

Sherlock’s answering grunts as he makes mincemeat of your pussy are music to your ears. His punishing thrusts falter and he pulls you flush to him. He’s deep enough to kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick. You feel him swell inside you and it’s enough to make you climax again, milking him through his release.

And the noises he makes when he comes are more intricate than the 24 Caprices. You’re sure that Sherlock would disagree but you don’t even care. You revel in the melody of his moans and surrender to its hold on you.

Sherlock’s hands roam over your back, your hips, your ass, and your thighs. As if he can’t get enough of you. He doesn’t pull out until you wiggle your hips, a sign that your legs are tired. Extricating himself from your sensitive folds allows his spend to escape. He catches what slips free and pushes it all back in before helping you lay down on your front.

He lays down next to you, pulling you close to him with one arm while the other rests behind his head. He looks so peaceful as he closes his eyes and hums. The feminine urge for pillow talk is high, but so is the need to just bask in this moment.

You’re in the arms of the man you care for, who also adores you. You rest your cheek on his shoulder and tangle your fingers in his chest hair. You breathe in his smell, his pheromones are surely on high alert from your activity. When he rests his head against yours, you feel at peace.

You do plan on talking to Sherlock later about everything. But, for now, you can take pleasure in the simplicity of the harmonization of your heartbeats.

A/N: The title of this fic is taken from The Neighborhood’s Sweater Weather. There is an amazing violin version of this song by Joel Sunny. And anything violin makes me think of Sherlock.

A/N: Also, I know Ms. Hudson wasn't featured in Enola Holmes, but I love her as a character and I wanted to use her.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

#sherlock holmes henry cavill #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #enola holmes fanfiction #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #henry!holmes x reader #henry!holmes #henry!sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction

564 notes · View notes

fallenangelkitten · 9 months

Text

His Birdy

Synopsis: Sherlock takes you on a picnic, but he surprises you in more ways than one.

Warnings: bondage, soft!dom, romantic!dom, public sex, smut

Notes: I used to be fallenangelbb here on the Henry Cavill side of tumblr but deleted my account and have regretted it ever since. So here I am reposting my work :)

The tree was mighty and tall; it’s trunk thick and branches strong. He took the blanket he had draped over his shoulder and laid it against the grass. You couldn’t help but admire the elegant shape of his shoulders and back as he faced away from you, his long fingers laying out the pastries.

You joined him on the soft fabric, sitting across from him and nibbling on a piece of fluffy biscuit. Your gown formed a pool of layers around you, the ruffles along your shoulders fluttered with the wind.

“Come, my bird.” He motioned for you to join him as he rested against the tree, but he’d already pulled you down before you had the chance to take a step.

A giggle flowed from your lips as he kissed your temple. One of his arms draped around your waist as he continued his kisses across your cheek and down your neck. He nipped at your collar bone, making you squirm in his grasp. His hand pulled at the laces of your corset; the pressure against your ribs and breasts eased.

Though the gasp didn’t leave you, your mouth hung agape as you turned to meet his eyes.

“I think it’s time we have some fun, darling,” he mumbled against your ear as he pulled the cloth and boning from your body.

You were utterly exposed from the waist up; the breeze sent a chill down your spine and perked your nipples. His thumb lazily grazed one as he moved his arm from you to his jacket.

He retrieved a bundle of rope from the inside pocket.

Sherlock wrapped his large arms back around you with ease, causing your breasts to press together. “Hold your hands out, birdy.”

Your heart fluttered as he wrapped the rough fibers around your wrists and into an elegant knot that left your hands only slightly spaced apart. His digits trailed up your arms and down your back. As he stood from behind you, he gripped your waist to bring you up with him.

He guided you until your back was to the tree, the bark only slightly digging into your soft skin. He took your joined wrists into his grasp and brought your hands to his lips. He kissed each of them before placing them above your head.

“Keep them there.”

He tossed the other end of the rope over a branch and secured it. He left just enough slack for you to bend your elbows. You could feel his gaze rake down your body as you stood there- helpless. You felt his hand reach to the buttons on the back of your skirts. With a few swift movements, they fell to a pile at your feet.

“Step. One at a time,” he ordered. You lifted your right and then your left. He tossed the layers to the grass and turned back to you.

You were utterly naked before him. His eyes bore into your body, your soul. As he took a few strides to close the distance between you, you tilted your head to look up at him. His hand gripped the back of your head as he dipped down to kiss you.

But he was gone before you had the chance to even kiss him back.

You opened your eyes that had fluttered closed to see him sitting back on the blanket, a sandwich of some sort in hand. He wasn’t even paying attention to you.

Your arms involuntarily yanked on the rope, eyes darting to make sure a servant or gardener wasn’t on this part of the grounds.

You caught the smirk playing on his lips as he silently chewed his food.

“S-Sherlock?” Though you only said his name, he knew it was a plea. He only gave you a quick glance and continued to eat.

The wind's harsh assault on your body began to make the peaks of your breasts ache. The bite of the rope around your wrists as you tugged against them caused you to squeeze your legs together with need. You whimpered as you felt your arousal begin to seep down your thighs; your cold skin such a contrast to the warmth of you.

You weren’t sure when your eyes had closed, or when he had resumed his place in front of you. His finger pushed a piece of hair back from your face and behind your ear. His blue eyes bore into yours, before he swiftly turned you around.

You gasped as the bark scraped against your cheek, your breasts. He nipped at your shoulder and clawed at your hips. “Seeing you like this drives me wild.” The pressure against your rear was proof enough. “I’m going to fuck you like this. With you dangling for all to witness.”

You heard the echo of his belt unclasping before he plunged into you from behind. He pressed you harder against the tree, harder against him. As you cried out, his hand wrapped around your hair to pull your head back to his shoulder. You couldn’t help but quiver around his cock as he gently kissed your cheek.

He growled against your neck as he finally began to move against you. His thrusts were achingly slow, but strong and forceful- each one shattering you. He wrapped an arm around your waist to ground your shaking body against him.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Sherlock could bring you to your breaking point. And though the feeling of him so deep inside of you made you claw against the ropes- the feeling of his fingers raking against your stomach and ribs to toy with your nipples made you writher against him. It was his words, whispered against the shell of your ear, that sent you over the edge.

“Cum for me, little bird.”

474 notes · View notes

littlefreya · 1 year

Text

Henry Cavill as Sherlock Holmes | Enola Holmes 2 (2022)

#henry cavill #henry cavill gifs #enola holmes 2 #enolaholmes2 #enola holmes #enola holmes gifs #sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes #enola holmes 2 gifs #littlefreyaedits

3K notes · View notes

multific · 1 year

Text

Run Away

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: When Sherlock went to work in London, he made a promise, a promise he has to keep and now, even more urgently as your father found a suitor.

Ever since your eyes met his, you loved him.

Back then, all he was is a handsome young man who intrigued you, but as the years passed, as he matured, your feelings grew.

You two met in secret, just on the edge of your father's property, you met him every night.

He told you about his dreams and you told him about yours. He dreamed of becoming a detective, the best one. And you had no doubt he would become just that. He had the potential.

But then, he needed to leave you.

He left you and his family for London.

"I'll become the greatest detective, My Love, and then I'll bring you with me to London, I'll ask your father for your hand in marriage. I promise." he said as he left you, and you believed him.

You believed Sherlock, so, you didn't look for another. But your father sure did.

And soon he found, Richard.

Richard Moore was from a rich family, noble with way too much money, so of course, your father didn't have to think much and arranged your marriage to him.

You have never seen Richard, you never met him nor his family and yet, your wedding invitations were already sent out.

As y last desperate attempt, you asked for them to also include the Holmes family. Your father never knew about your feelings for Sherlock. But he sure knew who he was.

"Such an arrogant man. Sherlock had potential and yet, he became a detective," he said a year ago, just as Sherlock's popularity grew, so did your father's hatred.

"Being a detective mustn't be that bad. What if my future husband will be one?"

"Impossible! I'll never give you to a useless man! A politician or a hard-working man will be your husband. No arrogant detective can take my daughter's hand!"

And ever since, this feeling of his only grew. Your father soon found Richard Moore, his family were known for their political views.

No doubt, you would only be a trophy wife for him, he needed someone to call his and to show to the public, he didn't want feelings, and he would never love you.

You were convinced you would never love someone as much as you loved Sherlock.

Which is why you insisted on inviting him to your wedding. If his feelings were true, he would come and he would rescue you from the future which seemed so dark now. A hand written invitation just for him.

You hoped he would get to you before the wedding, but as you stood there in your white gown, which you weren't even allowed to choose, your heart panicked.

Your mind told you the cruellest things, how Sherlock never even loved you, how he wouldn't come and how this will be your life from now on. And you started to believe. You started to believe that all of it is true.

That Sherlock found someone more interesting than you, a stunning woman who is independent.

And there you were, a love-sick teenager who was still waiting for him. He must be laughing at you, you often thought, at just how incredibly naive you were. And you don't blame him.

You were ready to walk down the aisle. You let out a deep sigh as everyone left you alone for just a moment before your father would come and walk with you.

"Love?" the voice behind you, barely a whisper, and you thought your mind was playing a trick so you didn't move, but then you heard your name getting called with the same deep voice. You slightly turned and saw, Sherlock. "Love, I'm so sorry for not coming earlier, I had matters to attend to, but now I'm here. And I'll keep my promise and bring you with me." he rushed over to you.

"What took you so long?" you asked, rather angry with him.

"We don't have much time, Y/N, please come with me I'll explain everything. And you did, you accepted his hand as he pulled you out of the church and into a carriage.

You were surprised just how easy it was to get out of there, even in your white, very visible, dress. All that you left was the bouquet of flowers.

"I missed you, you are more beautiful than the day I left." he wanted to lean in and kiss you but you pushed him back.

"You have to explain a lot to me. There I was, thinking you didn't even care about me, that you found someone else, and then you just show up."

"I had to arrange many things. Didn't help that the police had another very interesting case, but you were more important. When I got the letter... I thought you moved on, that you found someone else. But then I noticed, the way you wrote, hand written by you just for me, and your hands were shaky, judging by the ink and the paper soaked with your tears. I am not sure how I missed that but when I realized I rushed."

"I never moved on. My father thinks your job is... not the best, to put it nicely. I tried to convince him, so we wouldn't have to run away, but he is stubborn. And Richard... I never met him, never even saw him." your eyes met his as the carriage stopped. You weren't too sure, but London couldn't be so close.

"I thought we shouldn't let that dress go to waste." he got out of the carriage and helped you.

The scene in front of you took your breath away.

A small chapel in the middle of a beautiful field, you recognized Sherlock's siblings, mother and a priest.

"But only if you say yes out of your heart. I would never force you to marry me." you looked at Sherlock, eyes tearing up as you nodded. You pushed him and he nodded before walking to his place as his mother walked over to you and walked you down the aisle. Of course, there was no actual aisle, but you could live with that.

The smallest ceremony, this was about love, not about politics or trophies, this wedding was purely out of your love for one another. Suddenly even the dress you hated became the most beautiful.

A small kiss made it official, from that day on, you were Mrs Holmes.

---

London was much like you imagined but at the same time, nothing like you could ever dream about.

221B Baker Street was... interesting to say the least. Clearly, the home was a place for a man but you did see how Sherlock tried to make it more livable to you.

"Well, this is..." you trailed off as you tried to maneuver through the books. "Lovely."

"It's messy, I know but I do not have much time too clean up. We can hire someone to do that, I do not expect you. Oh please, don't open the fridge."

And you did, and it was already too late. You closed it as quickly as you opened it.

"I really hope that is cheese... right?"

"I always eat out, so it could be anything. I'll clean it out later."

At least the bedroom was in a good shape. The bed looked comfortable and warm.

"At least nothing smells in here." he laughed slightly behind you.

"It's a new one, I got it before I went to get you."

"We have to do something about the fridge. I don't mind the books and if it's a little messy but..." you felt his hands run up your arms.

"Do as you wish. I have the money if you wish to change something."

"I like your home, and I don't think Mrs Huddson will be pleased if I ruin her kitchen."

Sherlock smiled as he turned you around to kiss you and hold you.

He finally had you in his arms, and he was not going to let you go ever again.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

A/N: Thank you to my beautiful friend, @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl for helping me with the plot!

#Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes imagines #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes #sherlock series #enola holmes #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #x reader #domestic fluff #fluffy

2K notes · View notes

callmemaeverick · 1 year

Text

A Match Well-Played [Sherlock Holmes x fem!Reader]

AN: As promised, Part Deux of Dangerous Games! This was tricky to dish out because I intended DG as a oneshot, but you all and your comments gave the the kick in the butt to crank out another, with a third one in the works. As always, non-period compliant, but I do try my best to do some research and by research, I meant I watched Bridgerton.

Part 1

Anywho... Onwards. The game is ON!

It would seem that after that fateful night, you just cannot escape Sherlock Holmes.

You hadn't seen him again after leaving his apartment, especially with the news about the case breaking out the next morning and if you were honest, you were actually grateful for it. It gave you the chance to do what you do best in these kinds of situations; run.

You told yourself that it was late and it had been a long night and the only reason Sherlock acted that way was due to the blood loss. Surely.

And you... well, you were caught up in the moment.

So, promising your aunt that you would visit again soon, you went back to your life, ready to put said man and said moment behind you.

Or so you thought.

xxxx

The sounds of giggling caught your attention and you looked up to see the two young girls that just entered your place of work. Calling out a greeting, you gave them a welcoming smile as you work your way down another set of inventory.

Working in a bookshop was one of the biggest joys of your life. You had loved books ever since your could remember and it was a dream come true to be able to spend countless hours just surrounded by thousands of stories. The owners of the store were an old loving couple and like you, they were avid readers. Together, all three of you had endeavored to cultivate and encourage reading to all of your patrons, especially young children. The store had became your safe haven, your second home, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

It was a busy day that day and as you carefully restocked some of Shakespeare's sonnets into their rightful places, you accidentally caught the whispers.

"I can't believe it's him!" A girl said, her voice giddy.

"He looks even more handsome than the papers made him out to be,"

"I wonder if he'll come in here,"

You smiled at their antics, amused as you recalled that you were once in their shoes, giggling and gushing over a boy. Running your fingers against the spines one last time to make sure they are properly arranged, you left the girls to their gossips and made your way back to the front.

Only for the door to swing open and enter someone you have not seen in a long long time.

The gasp you barely managed to tamp down actually scratched your throat as you whirled quickly and glued your back flat against the side of a shelf, wishing childishly that it would absorb you into the wood. You smiled awkwardly at the shocked looks your customers were giving you, but you dare not move from your spot.

You should have known something was going to happen that day. Ever since you woke, there was this niggling feeling at the back of your head and you just knew it was going to affect your day in the most unwanted way.

And there it was, in the form of your former love.

Royce looked as handsome as the day you last saw him. His dark brown hair combed and coiffed perfectly despite being under a top hat all morning. His eyes glittered in the late evening light as he looked at the young woman at his arm.

Your heart clenched at the smiles they shared, the one on his lips exactly the same as the one once shared with you. The memory of what happened came to the forefront of your mind and you shook your head to block it out. It wasn't anyone's fault, you reminded yourself. People fall out of love sometimes.

Still you couldn't help the anxiety climbing up your throat. You were fine going separate ways so long as you don't have to see him again. That's why you up and left, why you spent a lot of your time visiting your aunt or reading indoors.

But you were working, and you needed to be professional. And your feet refused to move.

"God God. You need to stop this. It's ridiculous!"

"What is?"

You jumped a foot in the air at sudden intrusion and whirled around wildly, only to stop dead facing the man standing right next to you

"Sherlock!" You exclaimed, breathless. Clearing your throat, you eyed the people around you and composed yourself. "Mr. Holmes, what are you doing here?"

Sherlock Holmes narrowed his eyes as he studied you and you did all you could to act nonchalant, as if you did not know what he was doing, as if you didn’t want to disappear off the face of the Earth that very moment. It was a few minutes of uncomfortable silence as you fidgeted under his stare, but as usual, you refused to blink first. Perhaps he wouldn't figure it out.

“Who is he?”

Dash it.

When your jaw clenched involuntarily, you knew you couldn’t hide it from him. Not anymore. You opened you mouth to speak, but to your utter despair, someone beat you to it.

You turned slowly at the call of your name, as if your feet had turned to lead. You straightened your posture from the shelf, brushing off imaginary creases from your skirt before you raised your eyes to meet that of your first love.

“Royce," The smile on your face was tight, but you painted it on nonetheless. "It's so nice to see you again,"

Beside you, Sherlock shifted, as if something about the tone of your voice threw him off. You ignored him.

"You as well," Ever so polite, Royce responded. A beat of uncomfortable, dreadful silence ticked, before he turned to the woman beside him. "Amelia wanted to find some new books to read. She's a notorious reader... very much like you in that aspect."

Hurt lanced through your heart at that statement, that this new woman in his life was so similar to you, but somehow he had chosen her instead. You turned your smile to her, as she too smiled demurely at you. "Well, we have wonderful collections in here. I believe you would find something to your liking, Miss Amelia."

"Why thank you, dear. I just really need to get out of the house today. All this planning for the ball is so tedious, I couldn't stand it."

"The ball?" You asked. There was talk of a ball being held in town in a couple of days, but you hadn't paid much attention.

"Yes. My father insists to have a ball to celebrate my re-entrance into polite society. I have been away, you see. Travelling." She whispered conspiratorially. "I told him there was no need, but he is such a stubborn old man."

Despite everything, you really liked Amelia. Your smile bloomed steadier.

"You must come," She invited. "You and- " Her eyes moved to your left and widened in recognition.

Almost as if a bell dinged in your head, you realized that there was something else you hadn't paid attention to. Someone else, who was silent at your back throughout the last few minutes. "Oh, Royce, Amelia, this is-"

"Sherlock Holmes, Miss Delacourt," Sherlock took her hand and gave it a light kiss. "And we would love to attend your ball."

You stood frozen as the world seem to halt all around you. Your brain struggled to compute what had happened and you could only watch as the woman before you, like any other red-blooded woman around Sherlock Holmes, blushed lightly under his gaze. She shifted almost excitedly as she took him, and you, side by side. "That is splendid, Mr. Holmes. Isn't it splendid, my love?"

Your eyes were wide in surprise as was Royce's was. Clearing his throat, he blinked his shock away and returned his focus to Amelia. "That it is, darling." He looked back at Sherlock, then you, then back to Sherlock. Without your permission, a part of you, a small powerful part you did well to control, wanted to smirk at the look on his face. But you didn't.

He extended his hand to the man beside you. "I will see you there, Mr. Holmes."

The world seemed to be in a daze as the couple took their leave to begin exploring your store. Your head was muggy and your heart was racing. Without another word, you turned away and marched back to the front counter.

Sherlock called your name once, twice and a third time before you spun suddenly to face him. "What have you done?!" You hissed, finally feeling your bottled emotions bubbling to the surface. Your finger poked his chest and you were too close, decorum be damned. "Why would you do that?!"

He stood there in front of you, bodies inches apart, sharing your breath. For a split second, the store was empty and there were only the two of you. You wanted to slap him, yell at him, because how dare he drag you into this. How dare he spoke for you. But then, he inhaled and took a step back. And the world came back to life.

"I'm sorry."

Like a candle in a gust of wind, your ire dissipated. You knew Sherlock Holmes and you knew, you knew for a fact he does not normally apologize. Crossing your arms, you told him to continue.

"I was sent an invitation by Lord Delacourt and my brother-" He sighed, almost annoyed. "My brother insisted that I make an appearance."

You had heard of this mysterious brother. Powerful and protected by the government, and you knew he was the only person who could tell Sherlock Holmes what to do.

"But why drag me into it? You could have gone yourself."

He gave you a look that answered it all and you almost laughed. Sherlock Holmes, detective extraordinaire, cowering at the thought of overzealous mothers looking for a match for their daughters. "Ah, I see... You saw an opportunity and you took it.”

The man had the decency to look admonished. "So will you come?"

You thought about it for a moment, thought about seeing Royce and Amelia and then thought about their reaction to the thought of you and Sherlock. He had accepted the invitation on your behalf, and not showing up will only brought on more questions.

You took another moment to make sure you were committing to this, as there was no turning back. Then you took another moment just to annoy Sherlock.

Which you achieved when he called your name once more.

You sighed. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

"Well then, my Lady,” His smile was the one he has when he cracked a case, and you rolled your eyes. “It looks like we're going to a ball."

TBC

Tagging: @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer, @minecraftravine

#sherlock holmes #henry cavill #enola holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock homes fanfiction #sherlock holmes imagine #dangerous games #mav's posts

2K notes · View notes

sherlocksoft · 10 months

Text

The Experiment pt. 2

Sherlock Holmes x reader

The Experiment pt. 1 // Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Oh?' An eyebrow raised, interest piqued.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Sherlock… I'll need to taste you.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat.

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

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

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

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

‘Understood.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1K notes · View notes

itstheimpossibledream · 1 year

Text

Finished

Pairing: Henry Cavill x you

Prompt:Henry & y/n invited to his moms for thanksgiving. Mom also invites his ex.His mom is super strict so everyone is supposed to have separate rooms, mostly for his ex to slip into his room but she opens the door to find you sitting on his face.

This one was kind of tough but, ended up being a super fun story to write!Hope you guys enjoy it !Thanks for your ask, hope this lives up to the expectation.

“Are we going?” you ask quietly.

“Do you want to go?” he says, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

“I mean….. It’s your mother. We kinda have to.” he pulls you in closer letting out a low hmmm.

“Yes. but, I don’t visit her often for a reason.” he says quietly. The heft of his arm and the sheets around you calling you to relaxation.

“And what’s that reas-”

“She’s crazy.” he says bluntly. You laugh,immediately knowing he’s joking . It was very out of character for him to call anyone out of their name. Much less his own mother. You look up at him to notice he isn’t laughing, not even smiling.

“O Henry, come on! She is not crazy, I’m sure she just misses you. That’s why she calls so often.”

He caresses your face “My mother is a tiny, blonde psychopath. I love her with all my heart but, everytime I bring a woman home she gets so attached I- it’s hard to explain.” he trails off.

“Guess I’ll just have to meet her then!” you squeal sleepily into his chest before drifting away in an ocean of plans.

You packed, you brushed your teeth, and were ready early in time for the flight. Henry slept most of the way but, you were too filled with questions of if she would like you, and what he of all people meant by calling his mother an attached psychopath. The hours ticked away and you looked worriedly from the clock on your phone to Henry.

“Maybe she just forgot we were coming today?Should we call?” you ask

“Nooooo. No. She has forgotten nothing. This is what she does. Constantly trying to keep me on my toes, I guarantee you she’s up to something.”

You snort through your nose “Henry I guarantee your mother is not that malicious.”

“Have you met her yet?” he jokes flatly. Just then the car pulls up a decently clean but embarrassingly tiny red kia soul, flying like a bat out of hell.

You exhale, taking a step off of the curb and waiting for your moment of truth.

She jumps out of the car and runs to her son, jumping into his arms. He smiles for a minute holding her and you see the light of a little boy flicker in him for a moment. He pulls back at the sound of the trunk popping open and begins to load the bags into the back for the weekend.

“Mrs. Marianne I am just so excited to finally get to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and I’m really excited to-” She cuts you off turning back to her son.

“And Hen you remember Ellen.”

That’s when you see her, a leggy blonde with a perfect smile stepping out of the car that just makes your heart drop. Ellen fucking Whitaker. Ofcourse, champion show jumping horse rider from a family of professional horse trainers and not to mention gorgeous but, most importantly Henry’s ex- fiance.

“Cool, cool ,cool ,cool” you can hear yourself muttering under your breath trying not to explode.

“Mum this is y/n! She was very excited to be invited.” he confirms, giving you some comfort that he’s on your side.

“Mmm. Well that’s darling.” she spins on her heels heading back towards the driver’s side of the car.

You follow Henry as you both hug Ellen and exchange your greetings. She seems to think his mother bringing her here is just as ridiculous as you do and while you still despise her presence that knowledge makes it vaguely reassuring that she hasn’t come to fight for his love.

“Henry, dear sit up here with me I want to hear all about LA.” he rolls his eyes, making his way to the passenger side while you and Ellen assemble yourselves in the back of the tiny car with the luggage. You flip your phone over in your lap and notice a text from Henry. “I love you.Don’t stress out. She’s just like this.” you text him back a heart emoji but, it’d be a lie to pretend your heart wasn’t still caught in your throat. Not only did his mother refuse to acknowledge you. But, she brought some random ass woman that she obviously plans for Henry to be with instead. Actually , no.Not random, which is even worse! Am I spirialing ? I feel like I’m spiraling. You had completely zoned out of the sweet family reunion happening infront of you an attempted to string some words together in your head that would help you explain how you feel to him when you finally got alone time. You entered the driveway of the estate and his mother handed the keys to the valet , excusing herself and calling Ellen to follow her inside. Being excluded from the girl’s powwow didn’t bother you as much since if gave you a chance to speak to Henry. The Butler offered to help but, he insisted on doing it himself, calling him by name. And you were momentarily reminded of the things you did love about Henry. You followed behind him as he carried things to the room. You tried to make small talk with him as you unzipped your suitcase and began pulling out your necessities for your facewash routine. “O ummmm-” Henry looked at you as if trying to hide back from saying something. More bad information you were sure.

“You actually have the room down the hall.”he says sheepishly.

“What do you mean?” your eyes widen despite your attempts to quell your emotion. He has to be crazy. There’s no other way to explain.

“My mom doesn’t want me to share a bed in her home unless its with the woman I’ve marrried.” he says , hands up in a defensive position.

You exhale slowly repacking your things. “Sure. Ofcourse. What wouldn’t she want that.”

You knew it sounded bitter but, you couldn’t help it.

“Hey -” he grabs your arm as you head towards the door, pulling you in and kissing you .His hand coming to your cheek, fingers resting on the back of your head, giving you the comfort he couldn’t offer with words.

“Plus” he whispers into your lips “It will be fun to sneak around like kids for a few days.”You roll your eyes at him as his hands make their way to your ass. He gropes you for a bit before you escape his grasp headed to your room or Marianne created dungeon. Actually the room was quite nice. The flowers on the wall paper felt like a bit much but, the room got great sun and wasn’t to far from the bathroom . You liked that the estate had an old-timey feel of walking down the hall to use the toilet. Plus, it allowed you more excuses to be where Henry is. You unpacked your room and then sat on the bed next to your empty suitcase before exhaling,and finding the strength to get dressed for dinner.

You stepped gently down the stairs ,trying to avoid the steps that creak when your hear the door close behind you. Looking up over the landing you see Henry at the top of the stairs.

“What are you doing?”he asks flatly.

You become aware of your hunched back and your body language from testing the step with your toe.

“I- I just don’t want to go.” you confessed.

He rushes in your direction, “Sweetheart you don’t have to.”

“No I mean I want to I just ….I was so excited to meet your mother and she just-”

“Listen” he leans against the wall scratching the side of his face. “I was trying to protect you. I should have tried to explain her more but it’s- she’s just so embarrassing. If you want, we can cut it short and go home tomorrow.” he seems genuinely saddened that his mom had been so rude. You hadn’t even had the chance to tackle Ellen’s presence before you hear a fumbling downstairs and his mother calling for him. He looks at you silently giving you time to decide.

“I still want to try and win her over.” you whisper back to him. He laughs a little at your determination and offers you his arm. You walk to dinner together and his presence gives you comfort.

At dinner your seats are assigned. Shockingly your seat is not next to Henry’s but one of their family friend’s who was also visiting. You thought it a smart call on Marriane’s part. Had it just been the four of you for dinner the meal was sure to mostly be had in silence. You sat across from Henry and although he and Ellen had a few hushed moments this test actually caused you to feel more confident in your relationship. His mom was being a bitch but, when she did he’d nudge your foot under the table. This nudge eventually turned into a quiet game of footsies but, as adults your were grateful for the reminder that no matter how it seemed he was always prioritizing you. By the time dessert came you decided you wanted to try pushing the boundaries. His mother hadn’t said anything rude to you, she simply had not spoken to you at all. And if she had already decided she hated you then there wasn’t much left for you to do but, enjoy the sculpture of a man that she had created. You slipped your foot from your shoe and let your footsies progress to you rubbing him through his pants with your foot. His eyes shoot to you across the table,but he doesn’t give you away. You can feel him growing harder under your toes as he melts into his chair. His face looks so small and innocent, looking at you, trying so hard to be in control, to be good. His mother hurls a few rude words but, you are to turned on by the view across from you to care. Once dismissed from the table, the tempered dash to the bedroom is quick. His hand presses into your back as he practically pushes you up the stairs. His room was the closest to the stairs , as you walked past he grabs your arm , pulling you in.

“Heeeeey hey hey.” you whisper to him as he slips his hand up your dress. “I think your mother will notice if I’m not in my room.” he groans into you. “Shhhh. I’ll come back later” you pull back winking at him. He slowly removes his hand and you turn, switching out of the room.

You promptly switch into your best lingerie and robe while counting the minutes, listening as the sounds of the house grow softer and softer. When the coast seems clear, you softly make your way to Henry’s room. You push the door open slowly trying to mitigate the creak as much as possible.You can see his figure sitting up in the dark. You drop your robe to the ground as he closes his book. “ I thought you’d never come!” he exhales. He places his book on the nightstand and you jump into bed, straddling him. His hands reach around to cup your ass and your grab him by the wrists.

“Don’t touch.” you warn. He cocks his head to the side as if to question the change from your usual power exchange.

“Only with your tongue.” you smile, leaning in to kiss him. He smiles coyly and you move yourself up the headboard of the bed. You grab onto it as he pulls your panties to the side. He hums into you and you are doing your best to keep quiet as you grip down onto the headboard beneath. You reach your other hand down cradling the back of his head while his tongue explores further into you. Biting your bottom lip in an attempt to keep from crying out ,you pull his hair and his hand smack your ass in response.

“Fuck” you exhale into the darkness and just then you hear the door creak open.

“Oh no!” you turn around to see Ellen, and no sooner than you lock eyes, you grab the duvet pulling it over both of your bodies.Henry is confused and ends up being mostly exposed during the shuffle.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Ummm your mom told me to- I’m sorry I-” She turned , rushing out of the room; a flurry of nerves and embarrassment. The door slammed behind her and you both looked at eachother, momentarily embarrassed too. But, then you both broke into laugher. This entire trip had been absurd, this is almost just on brand. You lift your leg in an attempt to end your straddling of him , when he stops you with a hand to your lower back. Smiling while looking up at you he says

“I wasn’t finished yet.” and you melt back into him.

3K notes · View notes

princessaxoxo · 7 months

Text

Strangers to Lovers Part 1

Originally thought of as a one-shot but decided to make it a two-part series.

A/N: This is no longer a two-part, there will be multiple parts.

Sherlock x reader

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

Warnings: NSFW, 18 Only, sex (p in v), cussing, masturbation (f receiving)

If I’m missing any please let me know.

Word Count: 2k+

When Enola was younger, her mother sought you out to take care of her. You accepted gleefully. Meeting Enola for the first time was unlike any other; at the ripe age of eight, she was a daredevil, a venturesome young lady.

After spending most of your time with her, you soon met her brothers, Sherlock and Mycroft. Sherlock was charming but reserved. Mycroft was shrewd and practical.

You are able to read people without fault. It was easy to tell Mycroft wasn’t fond of you. Sherlock wasn’t so easy; he kept a blank expression around you. The difference was that he put in the time and effort to talk and get to you.

Little did you know, he was very fond of you; you were constantly on his mind.

He couldn’t help but analyze every part of you—the way you licked your lips, how you scrunched your eyebrows together when you got confused, the lines on your face from how much you smiled.

When you weren't paying attention, he let his eyes roam downward, noticing how your breasts looked when you breathed in, your delicate fingers, and the beauty of your legs that he wanted to kiss.

It wasn't ethical, but he couldn't care less.

You often found yourself thinking about him as well; you would let your eyes linger on him longer than allowed, especially for a lady.

Especially late at night like now, you were wondering what would happen if the two of you found yourselves in a room alone.

You closed your eyes, imagining him, his curly brown hair, his blue eyes, and that smirk he would occasionally show. Slowly brush your fingers between your thighs, thinking they are his.

As you started to picture his eyes that were looking up at you as he placed kisses between your thighs, you pulled down your panties.

You soon found your clit, making small circles. "Mhm,” a small moan left your lips. Moving your fingers down, you entered two of your fingers, moving them in and out.

You started to pick up your pace. “Oh, Sherlock," you let slip out, still imagining him.

Your pussy squeezed around your fingers, arching your back and moaning his name embarrassingly. You opened your eyes, your brain still in a haze from your orgasm, but he still hadn’t left your mind.

Trying to keep up with Enola was tricky; she kept you on your toes. Her excitement always made your day. At the moment, she was hiding; that was the game of the day. Hide and seek: her version was far more difficult.

She would leave small clues, making you think you’re on the right track, but it’s quite the opposite.

Walking around the house, you were checking each room thoroughly. A door at the end of the hall was already open; you checked inside, noticing it appeared empty.

“Enola, Enola, sweetie, where are you?” You walked into the room, searching as if you were a detective. You saw a desk, which she could easily hide under. Walking around it, you bent down to check.

But, of course, no luck.

“What are you looking for?” You accidentally hit your head, and his voice made you jump.

"Ow!” you winced, rubbing your head to ease the throbbing pain. Sherlock walked over to you, offering his hand.

“Enola is hiding; I’m looking for her. I saw the door was open, so I decided to check.”

He nodded his head. “Would you like some help? I have an idea of where she could be."

“Yes, she doesn't make it easy,” you chuckled awkwardly, looking down, your heart pounding out of your chest.

He put his thumb underneath your chin, making you look at him. “Let’s go”

You followed him, finding Enola hiding in a closed-off room.

She had a laughing fit, making fun of you for taking so long and having to involve her older brother to help. Enola left the room, leaving only you and Sherlock. You started to follow her, but Sherlock stopped you.

“Let me make sure you’re okay; you hit your head hard.”

He took you back to his office, guiding you down on his leather loveseat. He started checking you for a concussion and then brought you a cold pack for the small bump that was forming on your scalp.

He sat next to you, making you stiff. “Thank you for helping me,” you said, looking over at him. “It’s my pleasure, y/f/n."

It was getting dark out; you had to leave, but you wanted to stay here with him. “I should go home; it’s almost night out."

Sherlock didn’t want that to happen; his question could go wrong. But he wanted you to himself, if only for tonight.

“Would you want to stay for the night? I would be delighted to keep you company.”

You were taken aback by his question. Your answer was yes, but nothing came out. His facial expression turned worrisome. “Don’t worry about it”, "Yes,” you said eagerly, hoping he didn’t take notice. “Yes, I would be happy to stay.”

You showed a calm facade, but that’s not how you were feeling.

He began to show you his work and what interested him. “Do you wish for a drink?”, He was pouring himself one. "No, thank you; I don’t drink,” you said with a small smile.

Your eyes were scanning his wall, which had a map covering it with small dots placed in certain places.

He stood next to you, drink in hand, watching you concentrate on his work.

You turned to look at him, and you smiled. “Yes?” You were unsure of why he was looking at you in such a way. But then he lowered his head and kissed you.

After he kissed you, your eyes widened in surprise. But that surprise soon turned into enjoyment.

You cupped his face while he placed his hand on your lower back. He tried to set down his drink with his eyes closed, but it fell and shattered on the floor. Neither of you faltered from the enchanting kiss.

He pushed you backward, lifting and placing you on top of his desk. Your thoughts were running wild; was this really going to happen? Your questions were answered when he roamed his large hands under your dress. treading lightly, his hands hovering once they reached closer to your core.

He wanted this; he had imagined it countless times in his head. But he couldn’t go rough with you like he wanted; this wasn't normal, and this shouldn’t be happening since the two of you weren't married. And a woman like you? He thought, wasn’t someone you just fucked and then left in the morning? That was not you.

You hated that he was going slow; he was starting to pull away, but an instinct in you grabbed him by his hips and pulled him forward harder.

“I want this, Sherlock; don’t be gentle with me. I want you."

Hearing you say those words broke Sherlock's facade. He snapped, locking your legs tightly around his waist as he walked the both of you over to his leather couch. He laid you down, hovering above you, teasing you with his mouth.

He stood up, removing his bowtie, followed by his vest and white shirt. His chest, his chest—you couldn’t wait to roam your hands up and down his hairy chest. You let a moan out just by the look of him; he got on top of you, recklessly ripping your own clothes off.

He took a long look at you, salivating. He needed to get inside of you.

His kisses were sloppy with need, as were yours. You were getting wetter by the second, and yet he hadn’t really touched you. “Touch me, please."

He snacked his hands down to your clit, rubbing circles while kissing and sucking on your neck. You held his head, moaning his name. He left my neck and came face-to-face with me. “You want me inside of you? Do you want my cock to fill your pussy?”

“Please, yes, I need you."

Removing his pants eagerly, he lined his cock up, smoothly coaxing his cock in my wetness, before deeply entering slowly at first, then removing before entering again faster each time.

Your nails are scratching at his back, making him grunt in your ear. “Your pussy is so tight around me; it feels so fucking good.”

You wanted him deeper in you; you wanted to feel every inch of him. "I want to feel all of you.

He thrust his hips rougher this time, your back arched, and that gave him a chance to put his arm underneath you to change positions. Now, sitting up right, you are on his lap, riding him. He helped you with his hands on your hips, guiding you to bounce up and down.

“God, you are memorizing.”

His eyes were rolling to the back of his head as he closed them. “Just like that, baby,” he grabbed a hold of your breasts, squeezing them gently and rubbing your nipples, making them erect and pleasurable going through you.

His curly hair covered his face, brushing back just as he grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you forward. His tongue danced with yours, so far down your throat that you sucked on it.

His lips were soft; they had you memorized in a daze, moaning into his mouth. You felt yourself coming.

“Sherlock, fill me up with your seed."

“You want my seed? Want to feel it dripping down your thighs?"

"Yes, please, yes. I’m cumming on your cock."

You pulsated around him, your thighs shaking, and you saw stars in your vision as you came on his cock.

He stopped his movements, his nails digging into your skin as he groaned aloud, his head falling forward onto your chest. Both of you were heaving, trying to regain your breathing.

The smell of sex radiating in the room and the glistening sweat off of your and Sherlock’s bodies made this moment intimate. One you hadn't shared with another.

After the night you and Sherlock shared in his office, the both of you fell deeply in love. Sharing every passing moment with one another. And when the both of you weren't together, you were thinking about each other.

He told you countless stories about his endeavors, what he’s done, and the kinds of cases he’s received and solved.

Enola was so happy; she thought of you as a sister already, but now she couldn’t contain her excitement about how the both of you would end up being family.

You pretended not to notice at times the way Sherlock would stare at you; he would admire you from afar, from your side profile, any time he got the chance.

You were certain that nothing would break the two of you apart or that he would break your heart.

So you thought...

One day, out of the blue, Sherlock didn't meet you at the time planned; you were at his house, waiting for him to come home.

You were taken by surprise when you heard a person knock at his door, and you went to open it. A postman handed you a letter and left abruptly. You shut the door and sat down. It was signed with your name.

Opening the letter, you started to read what it said.

You read the letter over and over again until you couldn’t anymore.

This couldn’t be true, you thought; he couldn’t have left you.

He loved you. No, no, he loves you. So this couldn’t be the end.

You waited all night to hear the front door open. To hear his voice call out for you, but by the time you saw the sun rising, you knew he had left. He was gone. You fell to the ground with an uncontrollable sob. The tears never ended. You began to hyperventilate; it felt as if your oxygen was cut off.

You were at home as your tears started to stop; now you felt your blood boil.

He is a coward.

He couldn't even face you; had he that little respect for you?

A person who loves you does not treat you in such a way.

Your face was red, and your eyes weren’t brimming with sadness anymore but with anger.

You weren't going to let him hurt you in this way again. He wouldn't get the chance.

But everyone does have a weakness... He happens to be yours, and you his.

Part 2

#henry cavill #first post #fluff #henry cavill smut #sherlock holmes #smutty #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fandom #sherlock x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #enola holmes #strangers to lovers #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes x you

791 notes · View notes