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#sherlock benedict cumberbatch
writingliv · 7 months
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Summer Retreat (Professor!Cumberbatch x fem!reader)
Another Professor!Cumberbatch fic for you, my lovelies. Bringing back mean Cumberbatch with my beloved @little-diable. Once again please go to her profile and say thank you because she is the one that makes me come back to him. As always please reblog and comment and let me know how you are all doing because it has been far too long and I miss you all so much ❤️
Collab with @little-diable
Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, mostly just them pining for each other.
Pairings: Professor!Cumberbatch x fem!reader (8k words)
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“AND… DONE!” You shouted as you clicked the submit button, no more uni, no more assignments, and above it all, no more Cumberbatch. 
“Don’t be dramatic,” your best friend rolled her eyes, incredibly exhausted of the greek drama that had been your relationship with your thesis supervisor for the last year. 
“Do. not. take. this. away. from. me. You didn’t have to spend the entire summer stuck in a library because your dickhead supervisor was just unhappy with every single one of your drafts. You were at the beach while I was stuck reading page after page of redlining. I am free. I will never need to read the name Cumberbatch anywhere.”
“I am proud of you,” she tried to be supportive, although she could barely take you seriously. It was true, Cumberbatch had been an absolute asshole about the whole process but you had not made the whole ordeal any easier, seeking the most complicated topic possible. You yourself had picked Cumberbatch because of his ruthlessness. A challenge, you had called it. So in reality you had absolutely no right to complain. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning, flight leaves at 3 pm.” 
“I can’t believe that out of every possible place in the world, you chose to go stay on a random cottage in the mountains,” she huffed her answer.
“I want to relax, to be away from everyone, from the city, from people, from even the scarcest possibility I will run into him.”
“fair enough.”
POV Benedict
The streets were rushing past me, my eyes had a hard time focusing on the sights that were blurred by the rain rolling down the windows of the taxi. I felt my jaw muscles tense at every red light, tightening my grip on my phone as I tried to hold back the angry words wanting to leave me.
I was rushing late, the one virtue I have always taken pride in was my punctuality, forcing students to step out of the lecture halls whenever they turned up just a minute too late. And now I was about to miss my flight, the one getaway I’ve been looking forward to for the past weeks, perhaps even months.
“How much longer will it take us?” My voice dripped with annoyance, eyes finding the ones of the taxi driver through his rearview mirror. The man’s eyes flickered back to the street, murmuring “Five more minutes”, voice laced with a tone that matched mine.
The seconds fading by felt like days I had been forced to endure, staring into the faces of bored students, those that tried to listen but miserably failed to understand simple concepts, those that didn’t even try to pay attention, already accepting that they’d fail my class. And then there was (yn), the one student that had always challenged me, though not with her smart answers or her clever homework, but the determination to watch me struggle.
“We’re here, sir.” With my eyes snapping back towards the driver I forced myself out of my thoughts, pushing a few bank notes into his outstretched hand before I rushed through the airport. I barely focused on the security check, barely focused on the people that called out to me as I pushed past them.
With my eyes set on the terminal counter I rushed past a queue of people wanting to board the same flight I had booked. The woman working at the counter watched me approach with her eyebrows furrowed and her painted lips pulled into a fake smile, waiting for me to start speaking.
“I’ve been stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry! I’m booked for business class.” She watched me for a few seconds, gaze wandering up and down my frame before she slowly parted her lips, about to reply.
“We are all business class here, so have the decency to wait till it’s your turn.” An all too familiar voice rang in my ears, forcing me to slowly turn around. A groan threatened to claw through me as my eyes met the now growing big ones of (yn). “Professor Cumberbatch?”
Well, fuck me.
I looked away, ignoring her, trying my best to not let the embarrassment of the interaction tint my cheeks as I stepped to the back of the queue. 
I held my head low as I hope she would ignore me too but instead I felt her gaze linger on me. 
Brilliant. Exactly what I needed. A student to be on the same flight as me. I felt a migraine start in the center of my forehead. It is okay. It is just the flight I reminded myself. In just four hours I shall be free from anybody or anything related to the university.
I finally arrived at the front of the queue and presented my ticket. The woman at the counter gave me a courteous smile as I walked through, down the hall and into the plane. I scanned the seats for my number and watched as no other than my most consequential sat in the empty seat by its side. 
Her eyes were fixated on me, a mix of disbelief and something else in her gaze. She watched me put my bag on the top compartment as I tried my best to keep my eyes away from her. She seemed completely determined to meet my gaze. 
I took the seat by her side and exhaled, at least glad to not have missed my flight. 
“Vacation?” She interrupted my peace again. Why was she trying to talk to me?
“Yes.” I kept my eyes ahead, her gaze burning against my skin.
“Not a fan of the sea?”
I did not reply, instead putting my earphones on and closing my eyes. This was about to be a long flight. 
She seemed to take the hint, making no further attempts to talk to me.
Food was served two hours later. The hostess approached us with a smile, asking us what we would like to eat.
“I will take the soup, the steak and a glass of Sauvignon Noir.” I told the stewardess and avoided turning to look at (yn).
The woman looked at my student, waiting for her response. “Hi Jennie, yes. I will take the same for food, a glass of whiskey for me. Bring Benedict one too.”
I couldn’t help myself, glancing at her, a shocked look on my face as I searched her eyes. She however kept her eyes on the stewardess. I had never heard her say my name. It felt like an insult, a dig at my rudeness. 
“Perfect, I will be right back.”
She put her earphones on, not even glancing my way and did not try to talk to me again for the rest of the flight. 
YOUR POV 
Your steps were quick, eyes focused ahead, hoping that you could pick up your luggage before the crowd of people slowly following you would catch up. You didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare look at the hot awful professor who had been sitting next to you, clearly struggling with your closeness.
A proud sense of victory had flushed through your veins as he had stared at you, wide eyes watching you interact with the stewardess, a sense of kindness a man of his kind was no longer familiar with. An awfully rude, stuck up, but fucking handsome man like him.
You could see the luggage bands from afar, sighing in relief as you came to a halt. With your eyes flickering down to your phone you didn’t pick up on the way Cumberbatch studied you, slowly coming to a halt right next to you. No words left either one of you, eyes snapping towards the now approaching luggage.
Your mouth was burning, lips struggling to stay pressed together, but you tried to hold back. As much as you wanted to speak to him, for the fun of annoying him, you couldn’t endure another rude word leaving his mouth, you’d snap, you’d tell him how awful he could be. Nothing you wanted to deal with as your tiredness slowly caught up with you. 
One suitcase after another rolled past the two of you, eyes impatiently trying to locate your own luggage, though without any luck. Slowly the crowd around you grew less and less, thinning out as you still waited for theirs.
“Do you think they lost our luggage?” You kept your voice soft, without any strength guiding the words rolling off your tongue. It took the professor a few moments to reply, eyes finding yours as a sigh left him. 
“Seems like it, wait here, I’ll try to find somebody.” You got no time to reply, watching the man with his spotless suit disappear within the crowd of other people. But no matter how many people would surround him, your eyes would always find him, the odd one out that never seemed to fit in. His posture was too straight. His curls were too curly. His eyes were too piercing. No matter what it was, he always seemed to add an extra touch that left your insides churning and your blood rushing.
It was pathetic, really, a crush so painful yet so thrilling. There was nothing you could hold onto, no interaction that gave you even the smallest bit of hope that he liked you too, professor Cumberbatch detested you, he avoided you like you were a deadly virus made to kill him, but you couldn’t let go of the thoughts racing through your mind. He was everywhere you went, following you like a shadow, at least the thought of him did.
“Seems like our suitcases didn’t make it here. Where are you going from here? They need an address.” The professor’s voice ripped you out of your daydreams, hazy eyes finding his cold, almost distanced ones. 
“At the mountain retreat, it’s about an hour from here, I think.” His eyes grew wider, pupils dilated as if you were threatening him, forcing him to make a decision of life or death. Silent curses left him, words you couldn’t pick up on as you stared at him with confusion laced in you gaze.
“Seems like we had the same plans for our vacation getaway.” Slowly it dawned on you, eyes growing just as wide as you realised that he was staying at the same retreat. 
—-
You barely had to do any talking for the next two hours. The professor taking it upon himself to advocate for both of your bags to be delivered as soon as humanly possible to your resort. He had used the same tone he used to speak to you and your classmates, belittling everyone who would not agree or obey his orders instantly. 
The airline people could not do much else than agree with him, apologise profusely, and promise him every refund and offer that they could think of.
“You also will be compensated for any clothes you need to purchase until your bags get delivered tomorrow.” 
The words finally forced you to clock back into the conversation as your professor turned back to you, giving you your boarding pass and a handful of other papers including vouchers and already filled out forms. 
“How were you planning on getting there?” He spoke your way, his blue eyes piercing through you. 
“Taxi.”
“You can come with me. I have a driver picking me up.”
“I need to get some clothes for tonight. It-“ 
“I need to do the same. You have already infiltrated my vacation. I can bear a couple more hours.” 
“Should we just meet here again in, I don’t know, twenty minutes?” Your voice rang in his ears as you walked through the mall, exhaustion dripped from your words, filling your every vein. The day had been long, adventurous, and somewhat fucked up, thoughts racing, heart pounding, palms sweaty, all thanks to him.
“No, we’ll stick together, I don’t want to waste any more time waiting for you.” His harsh words left you groaning, choking on a quiet “You stereotypical asshole” he either didn’t hear or simply chose to ignore. 
The professor walked ahead of you, forcing you to follow him through the store, picking up shirts, dress shirts, another pair of trousers, and some underwear. On another day you’d have studied him intently, would have picked up on every move of his, on every expression tugging on his features, but right now all you wanted to do was hide away, searching the comfort of your bed, of the quietness you had hoped the retreat could offer her. 
“It’s astonishing how lost you always are, but it’s good to know that you’re not just like this in my classes.” Once again did his words ripped you out of yours thoughts, blinking a few times to let go of your hazy state. Angry words threatened to leave you, wanting to argue with the stuck up man, but you kept quiet, turning away from him as you browsed through the women’s section. 
You felt his eyes on you, watching how you halfheartedly thumped through different sections, picking up comfortable shirts you could wear, trousers, and a new sweater. The second you stepped foot into the underwear section you had expected him to halt, not daring to follow you around like a shadow, but he kept following you, seemingly not picking up on the heat flushing through your system.
You stood by the counter, trying to decide which outfit to take and which to leave as the total would be above the airliners allowance, cursing the Professor for choosing such an expensive store to buy from. The professor however didn’t give you any chance to pick, snatching the clothes from your hands as he turned towards the cashier. You stared at him for a few seconds before your mind caught up with what he was about to do.
“I can pay for the clothes.” But all the professor did was shake his head, silencing you with the way he swiped his credit card, paying for both of your clothes. Your mouth felt dry, hating that your heart began to swell in your chest, once again growing rather fond of the man who acted like he hated you like Menelaus had hated Paris, starting a deadly war that would forever change the course of history. 
You could only guess that your stay at the retreat would change your relationship, for better or worse, only time would be able to tell. And with a small “Thank you” leaving you, you followed him out of the store, back to his driver.
… 
The car ride to the retreat was deathly silent. You kept your eyes on the street and tried to ignore how nice he looked sitting by your side, just the middle seat dividing you. 
He did the same, working on his phone, mumbling under his breath words of disapproval every now and then. You were about to arrive at your stay when he chuckled, calling your attention to him. He turned his screen to you, showing you a pdf document. 
“Seems like your dissertation is next.” He chuckled again, but you could barely restrain yourself from talking back, utterly disgusted that he was reading any dissertation as if it was the newspaper, on his way to his luxury vacation. “Expectations are high.”  
You didn’t answer, thankful that the car came to a halt. “We are here,” the driver spoke.
—-
The two of you separated as soon as you were out of the car, heading to the reception at your own pace. He arrived first giving you his back as he talked to the woman on the other side of the counter. 
She nodded and looked at him as if he was the only thing in the room, as everybody did. He was escorted to his room as soon as he was done talking. He didn’t even look your way or acknowledge the time you had just spent together, simply walking away.
—-
You could barely sleep that night. The thought that that asshole was reading the hardest piece of research you had ever worked on while getting a massage made your blood boil. You turned and tossed in the panties he had bought you, that he had held in his hands together with the rest of the clothes you were wearing.
It made your skin burn, the thought of his touch even just indirectly on you waking a fire inside you. Your mind moved to the way he had commanded everybody at the store, so sure of himself, so decisive. He knew exactly what button-up to get, what cotton shirt, and the pyjama shorts he had gotten. You swallowed loudly, pressing the pillow against your face, trying your best to remove him from your thoughts.
—-
For the next two days you had assumed your professor had rebooked the next flight home and left. You had not seen him anywhere, not even when your luggage had been delivered by the airline. 
You had initially tried to convince yourself that it was a good thing. Good riddance. And yet, you found yourself looking for him everywhere, picking your best outfits in case you ran into him at dinner, in the garden for breakfast, in the spa, anywhere.   
You couldn’t help but constantly wonder what he was doing. Whether he was done reading your dissertation… whether he had enjoyed it. That night you decided to sign up for a hike the day after. That would free your mind from him, it would finally allow you to enjoy the vacation you had paid so much for.
---
With tiredness dripping from your every movement, you found yourself walking towards the meeting spot of the hike, not awake enough just yet. A yawn clawed through you as you joined the small group, a sound that got stuck in your throat as soon as your gaze fell onto an all too familiar face. 
This must be some sick joke of fate, you were sure of it. 
“Seems like we’re complete. Good morning guys, my name is Daniel, just call me Dan if you want.” Your eyes snapped towards Cumberbatch, unable to bite down your grin as the corners of his mouth were pulled down, he hated nothing more than nicknames, short forms of names that made no sense to the man who found pride in his every title. “We’ve got quite some hours ahead of us, I’d advise you to find yourself a hiking buddy for the upcoming hours, just in case you need some help. Any questions before we start?”
You barely paid Dan’s voice any attention, unable to draw your gaze away from the professor. Where had he been hiding? Had he purposely avoided crossing paths with you? Were you that awful to be around? His hot and cold demeanour towards you always left you with a painful headache, unable to tell what he wanted from you; a childish game he seemed to find enough joy in to keep on dragging it out.
Even though your body screamed for you to move towards him, to force him to be your hiking buddy, as Dan had called it, you didn’t dare move. You watched the others pair up, instantly lured into conversations, small talk you have always struggled with. 
“How about you walk a bit with me, huh?” Dan’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts, eyes flickering from his friendly ones towards the piercing, cold ones of Cumberbatch. The man was already staring at you, lips pulled into a thin line. And with a smile glued to your lips, you murmured a tired though friendly “Sure!” 
You had walked with Dan for about an hour, pulled into exchanges you couldn’t even remember by now. Somewhere along the way your professor had managed to join the conversation, voice dripping with something you couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps he was simply as tired as you were, perhaps he was annoyed by the cold that nibbled on his limbs, but perhaps, just perhaps, it had something to do with the way Dan kept looking at you.
The guy was handsome, you couldn’t deny it, but yet you found no interest in him, thoughts guided by the way your heart raced whenever Cumberbatch spoke up, focusing on the richness of his voice, on the way he managed to express himself oh so cleverly. Fuck, you felt like a schoolgirl, crushing on a man who’d never pay you enough attention to realise how smart, how cunning, how beautiful you truly were. Longings like clouds moving on the dark sky above, carrying rain that would clash to the earth miles and miles away from where they were supposed to rain down. A hopeless ache. A hopeless longing. A hopeless reality.
“So, what did you do in the last days?” Your voice rang in your ears, speaking the words before your mind could register what you were doing. The professor’s eyes met yours, clearing his throat as he pondered over the question.
“I had to join some last minute meetings, seems like I can’t get away from work, no matter how hard I try.” You couldn’t stop your chuckles from bubbling out of you, a sound that forced his eyebrows to furrow, wondering where your amusement came from.
“As if you’d ever willingly take a break from work. We both know you don’t take any rest.” No matter how hard he tried to stop his lips from forming a small grin, he couldn’t stop his body from reacting to the teasing. You took it as a win, wondering if you had ever seen him smile - or at least give the smallest illusion of a smile - before. 
“Careful, (y/n), you don’t want to mess with me before you get your grade, now do you?” No reply left you, thoughts interrupted by Dan’s voice. The words he spoke echoed through the forest, eyes taking in the beautiful nature you were surrounded by. The trees around you stood tall, shielding your group from the sun threatening to break through the leaves, the scent of the forest, of the muddy soil you kept trodding through crawled up your nostrils, instantly relaxing your muscles.
“Be careful on the next few miles, yesterday’s rain made the ground quite muddy, as you can tell. Don’t hesitate to ask your buddies for some help.” Once again the group started walking, once again you walked next to the professor without speaking a single word. The situation had something awkward though amusing to it, trying to find a conversation topic to break the silence. 
But before you could even try to speak up once again, you found yourself slipping, hands grasping the nearest thing you could hold onto before your face would meet the muddy ground. The professor’s hands had shot out to steady you, placed comfortably against your waist. Your eyes met his, pupils dilated as the man stared down on you.
Your heart was racing, pounding in your chest as your eyes started flickering from his eyes to his thin lips. Fuck, you had lost count on the amount of times you thought about kissing him, wondering if and how he’d touch you. You could only guess that he’d instantly dominate the situation, he wouldn’t give you any room to guide, that much you were sure of.
The professor seemed to struggle just as much as you did, hands still glued to your frame, eyes finding your lips. It felt as if you were moving closer, just slowly, carefully, testing the uneasy, unfamiliar waters the two of you kept rowing through like small boats caught in a thunderstorm. The first bolt of lightning struck your boat, setting the wood ablaze, instantly sinking to the cold ground.
Without another warning he pulled back from you, hands finding their way to his sides as if he suddenly got disgusted by his own actions. His eyes found yours once again, just for a short moment, before he started walking. It seemed as if he tried to get as much distance between the two of you as possible, instantly succeeding with his fast steps.
You could just stare at him, giving yourself a few more seconds before you also started walking, trying to swallow down your embarrassment. 
The feeling of embarassment persisted after the hike. You were thankful when you returned to the resort and went your separate ways. You took a quick shower, trying to remove whatever was left of his touch from your body and then went straight to the sauna, in need of the heat and sweat. 
It was perfect, so incredibly perfect. Your thoughts were hazy from the heat and you felt yourself sweat everything out, your stress, your desire for him, absolutely everything and then, just then, the door of the sauna opened. He stood on the other side of the door, a towel around his waist and a frozen look on his face. He was thinking, making a decision. You expected him to close the door again, walk away, the same way he had avoided you for the past three days. Instead, he stepped in, did not utter a word and sat as far away from you as possible. 
Neither of you spoke for the next five minutes, which felt like five hours to both of you and then you couldn’t help yourself, the thoughts of your dissertation haunting you all week. 
“How is grading my dissertation going?” 
He laughed bitterly, glancing your way, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than normal. “Boring read, I have gone through it so many times in the past 3 months that I don’t even know if you deserve a grade. I pretty much designed the whole thing. You barely wrote it.” 
Your jaw tensed as he looked away, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wooden board, letting you admire how his adam’s apple bobbed. You wanted to kill him. Asshole. Douchebag. Pi- and yet your eyes were stuck on him, lingering and lowering, following the small droplets of sweat down his firm chest, his stomach, h-
“I am kidding of course. I need to give you a grade. I could not bare having to work on it with you for another year.” He opened his eyes, you whipped your gaze up to him immediately, sadly too late. He had already noticed the way you had been looking at him. Something crossed his gaze but he looked away, almost as if he wanted to get rid of the thought. 
“A good grade.” You suddenly spoke and he seemed to be taken aback by your directness.
“We shall see,” he kept his nonchalant tone but you held his gaze, defiant.
“I deserve a good grade. I worked harder than anybody else in the course. Any of your other students.” You spoke leaning forward. Although the two of you were sitting on opposite sides of the sauna, the distance felt suddenly smaller. 
He couldn’t help himself, as you leaned forward his gaze flickered to your glistening chest. His throat bobbing before he looked away. 
You felt that familiar pull on your centre, feeling your gaze grow slightly hazy as you realised he may be struggling with your proximity as much as you did. 
You opened your lips to say something but he stood quickly, breaking eye contact and walking out without saying anything else.
……
With one last glance thrown at your reflection, you stepped out of the elevator. Your shoes met the ground with every cautious step you took, trying to ignore the racing thoughts that wouldn’t ever allow you to rest. Wherever you went, the thought of him seemed to follow you around, whenever you closed your eyes, his piercing ones seemed to stare down on you, forcing you to dream of him. 
The past moments you shared with your professor kept racing through your thoughts, making you wonder if he was also thinking of you. Your eyes browsed your surroundings, walking towards the area where dinner was being held, outside in the middle of the mountains, railings decorated with fairy lights, casting a beautiful shadow onto the tables for two. 
And there he stood, appearing like Caspar Friedrich’s painting “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog”. With his back turned your way he seemed to admire the area as well, finally allowing himself to breathe calmly. Wordlessly you came to a halt next to him, patiently waiting to be seated, not daring to strike up yet another conversation that would leave you embarrassed and humiliated. 
“Table for two?” The waiter’s eyes flickered between your and Cumberbatch’s bright ones, starting to walk towards a table near the railing, not waiting for your reply. The professor’s eyes met yours before he followed the man with a sigh clawing through him, forcing you to mimic his movements, sinking into the comfortable chair in front of him. “I’ll be back in a few to take your orders.”
No words were shared between the two of you as you browsed the menu, wondering what to order, while your thoughts couldn’t concentrate on the printed words, eyes struggling to stay focused. Your body screamed at you to look at him, feeling his eyes burn your skin, like they’d always do whenever your paths crossed, outside of uni or in the middle of his classes. 
“So,” he cleared his throat. “Did you enjoy your day?” Your eyes grew bigger, wondering if he was truly trying to start a conversation with you. An unfamiliar warmth flooded through you, eyes forced away from his in an almost pathetic attempt to select fitting words, sentences that wouldn’t give off another bad impression. 
“I did, I went on another hike, it’s such a beautiful area, I want to experience as much of it as possible. What about you? Did you manage to take a break from working?” Before he could reply the waiter found its way back to you, carefully listening to your orders, writing down the drinks and dishes your hearts were aching for. 
“I tried to take it slow, and finally managed to finish a book I’ve been reading for the past weeks.” You found yourself hanging onto his every word as if he was sharing ancient secrets with you, letting you in on theories not even the smartest scientists were fortunate enough to pick up on. And with another wave of heat flushing through you, you finally were able to relax, letting go of the tension he always forced through your veins. 
……
“Oh god, don’t remind me, please, that was horrible.” He tilted his head back as another laugh clawed through him, eyes momentarily fluttering close. Your eyes focused on his hand, watching him reach for his almost empty glass of wine. His adam’s apple bobbed as he drowned the last sip, you’ve lost count on the glasses the both of you have drowned by now, enjoying the carefree atmosphere that was almost unfamiliar to the both of you. 
“You were so angry with him, I almost felt pity for you.” His eyes met yours, no longer as sharp and bright as they were hours ago, a hazy coat had laid itself to rest on his pupils, guided by the alcohol thumping through his veins. You were just as tipsy, but you couldn’t spare the way your body reacted to the glasses of wine you had fostered any attention, too happy about finally being able to share a proper conversation with the professor. 
“I always wonder what goes on in your head when you’re in my classes.” You couldn’t hold the intense eye contact he tried to lure you into, focusing on the empty glass of yours, fingertips stroking along the wet rim. “You always seem so distracted, yet you always get the highest grade on your assignments. What is your trick?” 
You watched a smirk tug on his lips, hand no longer placed in his lap, but on the table, dangerously close to yours. With your breath hitched on your chest you allowed yourself to stare at his slender fingers for a few seconds, wondering how it must feel to be touched by him. 
“Maybe I’m just bored by your teaching?” Your chuckles forced another laugh out of the tall, handsome professor, slowly shaking his head. You mimicked his smile, unable to rip yourself out of the grasp he now held on your body and soul, forever trapped by him. 
“We both know that that is not true, I feel your eyes on me, if I wouldn’t know it any better I’d say you’re distracted by me.” An untameable heat thumped through your veins, a heat so biting you feared your body would go up in flames any moment now. Your thighs clenched together, guided by the forbidden imaginations now filing your thoughts, improper, dangerous thoughts. 
“I’m sorry, I have to interrupt.” The sweet voice of an elderly lady interrupted your conversation, eyes snapping towards her. A smile began to widen on her painted lips as she studied the both of you. “I have to ask, how long have you been together? It’s beautiful to watch the two of you, it’s been years since I’ve got to admire such chemistry between a couple.” 
“Oh,” your smile fell, clearing your throat as your eyes found his now hardening ones. “We’re no couple.” 
“Oh, I am so sorry! You look so in love, I was clearly fooled by it. Have a good evening you two.” An uncomfortable silence followed, eyes unable to find their way back together, stuck on the words that still rang in your ears. Benedict rose to his feet without another warning, throwing down his napkin, opening his wallet, dropping a couple of hundred bills with the cold demeanour you knew just like the back of your hand. 
“If you’ll excuse me, I am tired, it’s best I head to bed.” He didn’t look at you, his expression almost bored as he turned to walk away from you. 
You were left speechless, your jaw ajar as you watched him leave. Be it the wine or the whiplash from his behaviour you walked right behind him, almost running to catch up. 
“Bened-“ you started to speak but were immediately shushed by him stopping in his tracks and turning. You crashed against his body. He pulled you away from him, with a disgusted expression. 
“Nobody has given you permission to call me that,” he spoke in a freezing tone, looking down at you with complete indifference.
“But-“ you tried to refute him, pointing out the fact that you had been calling him that for most of the dinner but he interrupted you again.
“You need to learn to keep your distance. Crashing my vacation was one thing but this game you are playing, it needs to stop.”
You felt your stomach turn, suddenly nauseous by his nasty words. “I am not playing any game. I have nothing to gain from this.”
“Oh don’t you? I am sure it is a coincidence that you are doing- doing whatever you are doing to your thesis supervisor. I am sure it is a coincidence that just days ago you turned in the most important piece of coursework you have ever written and I am the one that has to grade it.” 
You felt his words physically hit you, stepping back as you looked at him in complete disbelief. “How dare you.” 
“No. How dare you?” He stepped forward, “use whatever weakness I have for your nonsensical character for your own advantage. I thought you were better than that. Is your work so poor that you need to resort to this?”
You didn’t answer him. You were not about to give him the privilege to see you cry. You turned around and started walking, kept on walking until you were in your room, bag opened, clothes packed, ready to go back home the next day and never see the Professor again.
——
POV BENEDICT
Two days back into the semester and I still could not stop thinking about the vacation, about how awful I had been to her. I hadn’t meant to accuse her… it had just left my lips. Better that accusation than what I actually wanted to say, to do. 
I thought about apologising, about reaching out but I realised it didn’t matter. She was gone. She had received her grade, by far the highest grade that I’ve ever given a dissertation. There was nothing my apology would bring. 
The more I thought about what I had done the more disgusted I was at myself. Her research was immaculate, a true show of passion. She did not need to flirt or be polite to me to ensure a good grade, her work spoke for itself. And yet, I had accused her of such lowly behaviour. 
It did not matter. I had to move on. To stop letting her invade my thoughts. She was gone. She would n— and yet there she stood. I froze in my path, watching as she shook the hand of the dean and walked into his office, just two doors down from mine.
I must have imagined it. No. Yet, her laugh echoed before the door closed and her so familiar overflowing bag followed her as she walked in the room. 
No. I shook myself awake, ignoring the stares of some students as they walked past me, rushing to get to class. I entered my office and sat down, opening Google. Hallucinations and their causes.
—-
I walked to my class that afternoon, quickly making my way through the different hallways. It was still 30 minutes till the start of my lecture, so I got to pick up on the sounds of the different talks being given in my department and suddenly, I was stopped in my tracks. My head whipping to a side, looking into the small window of the classroom and seeing her.
Her in a beautiful white button-up, some suit trousers and a pair of heels, commanding the whole room. Everyone’s eyes were on her and why wouldn’t they be when she looked like that? 
“So yes, that is all the insight I can give you into my career path. I know you are just starting but I hope this has been helpful and it can expand upon your options. Thank you for listening so attentively, if you have any questions I will take them now.”
I felt my stomach turn at the sound of her voice, unable to step away as I watched students, mostly male, lift their hands eagerly to ask her questions. I continued watching her, enthralled, until a student seemed to point at the door, at me. I backed away immediately and started walking away, when I heard the click of her heels behind me.
“Professor,” she spoke in an airy tone. I exhaled before turning around, preparing to have this conversation. My eyes instantly found hers, drawn to the like a moth to a flame, fuck, I felt one flashback after another race through my mind, this is why I needed to distance myself, this is why I can’t stand being around her, not used to the power she holds over me. 
“(Y/n), you’re teaching now? Here?” I watched the corners of her mouth lifting her lips into a smile, a smile that left my insides churning. 
“I do, didn’t you read the welcome email the department sent out yesterday morning?” Her eyes momentarily flickered back to her classroom, knowing that she’d have to return any moment now. I felt my throat growing tighter, unable to speak another word, at least for the next few seconds where I allowed myself to study her. 
“I didn’t, but you know how it is, we always get too many emails at the start of the semester. Feel free to come by my office in the next few days, I’ll let you get back to your students now.” Without waiting for her reply, I turned away from her, forcing myself to search the distance, needing to back away before I’d no longer be able to guide my body. 
……
YOUR POV
“Professor?” Your voice echoed through the office, eyes focused on his frame. He seemed to be deep in thought, eyes focused on the stack of papers covering his desk. His piercing eyes shot towards your frame, straightening his posture. 
“(Y/n), please, come, sit.” It felt unfamiliar to catch the sweet tone of his voice, not used to hearing him speak this softly. Carefully you closed the door, walking towards the chair placed in front of his desk. He watched your every move, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head as he held eye contact. 
“I,” he cleared his throat, placing his pen down before he slowly sunk back in his chair. “I think I have to apologise. I am sorry for the way I spoke to you, that wasn’t fair of me.” Your heart raced, just like your thoughts did. Did he actually just apologise? Did the man who never dared to even start a proper conversation with another colleague let alone another student actually apologise to you?
“Can I ask why you did it though? I’d lie if I said your words didn’t hurt me. They were cruel, even for you, professor.” He kept watching you, tongue kissing his teeth, seemingly pondering over his next words. You felt the tension rising, it felt like you were close, close to forcing a confession out of him you’ve dreamt of hearing him speak for months on end, yet deep down you knew that you were too delusional for your own good, at least when it came to him. 
“Please, Benedict’s just fine. You see, (y/n), you were by far the brightest student I ever crossed paths with, you could have easily taken over my course. I didn’t trust myself around you, no professor should cherish this kind of interest in their student. And to put it quite frankly, I still don’t trust myself around you.” Your mouth felt dry, throat in knots. Was that it? Did he finally give into what you desperately had hoped to hear him speak? Heat flushed through your system, a heat so biting you were forced to avert your gaze, focusing on your trembling fingers. “I am sorry, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, especially not since we’re seemingly colleagues now.”
“I don’t feel uncomfortable. It’s just a lot to process, I guess. You’ve always treated me like you hate me more than anything else. You were always so rude to me. And I felt so stupid for crushing on you.” Now it was his turn to stumble over his words, eyes zoning in on your features once again. It took him a few moments to rise to his feet, rounding the table, slowly, all too slowly for your linking. No longer could you pay your thoughts any of your attention, solemnly focusing on the way he kept moving, on the darkening gaze stuck to your features. 
“I should tell you to leave before either one of us does something we can’t walk away from.” Whispers, nothing but silent whispers you didn’t reply to. You rose to your feet with trembling legs, standing close to him, oh so close. His eyes focused on your lips, a clear sign that gave you the push you needed, hand finding his.
“Don’t, don’t push me away again.” No further word was spoken, allowing a crackling silence to wrap its arms around the two of you. His big hand found your face, carefully cupping your cheek, pulling you even closer. With your breath hitched in your chest you tried to stand still, giving him enough time to ponder over his next move. But before you could give into your thoughts, wondering why he was still hesitating, Benedict had finally closed the gap between you.
The kiss was slow, though fuelled with a biting heat that made their hairs rise at the nape of your neck, forcing your hands to find his shirt, clinging to him. Slowly he turned the two of you around, pushing you onto his desk, wrapping your legs around his middle. All the emotions flushing through your veins kept forcing the two of you to keep on going, to deepen the kiss with your tongues meeting and your teeth almost clashing together. 
Quiet moans ripped through you, forcing a few chuckles out of the smirking man, allowing him to part from you for a few seconds. You didn’t need to speak any words to communicate, lips finding back together after a few moments, hearts begging one another to keep going, to finally give into the deep longing you’ve been addicted to for months. 
“You can always tell me to stop, don’t hesitate.” His soft words left your heart swelling, forcing you to nod your head before your lips searched his once again. Your hands started working on his trousers, undoing the belt of his you’ve found yourself staring at at any given chance. The cold metal felt heavy in your hands, momentarily distracting you from his wandering lips, kissing their way down your throat. “I should take my time with you, but I can’t take another single minute away from you.”
“Don’t stop, please, I need you to fuck me, been waiting for it for so long.” His chuckles vibrated on your skin, forcing goosebumps to rise. Benedict’s skilled fingers helped you out of your blouse, pushing the fabric of your skirt up to your waist, desperate to get rid of the layers of clothing keeping you separated. 
“Tell me, love, tell me how much you need me.” With your trembling hands pushing the zip of his trousers down, pulling his hardening cock free, you gave room for another gasp to leave you, finally able to feel him pressed against your skin. Your eyes flickered up to meet his before you pushed him away, giving yourself enough space to drop to your knees.
“So much, been dreaming of being touched by you for months, I touched myself to the thought of you fucking me too many times.” A deep groan left the professor, hand finding your head as you parted your lips, taking his twitching cock into your mouth. You struggled to take much of him, deeply exhaling through your nose, moving slow as your mouth tried to adjust to his size. 
His hand grasped your hair tightly, clinging to you as if you were about to slip right through his fingers. It was a sight so unreal you were no longer sure if you weren’t just stuck in another daydream. The sounds rippling through him were sinful, sounds so dreamy you hoped that this wasn’t the last time you’d get to hear them. 
You parted from him, taking a few deep breaths as your tongue flickered over his tip, letting the taste of him stick to your tongue. Every now and then your eyes met his, picking up on the pleasure swimming in his pupils, picking up on the fire simmering deep inside of him. 
Impatiently he tugged on your hair, jerking his hips to force his cock back into your mouth. You gagged around him, eyes rolling into your head to try and keep calm. Benedict started fucking your mouth, abusing the warmth engulfing him with curses rolling off his tongue. 
“Fucking hell, such a pretty sight, you on your knees for me, for me only.” You hummed around him, unable to stop your heart from skipping a few beats. He gave it a few more seconds before he pushed you away, pulling you up with trembling limbs. Once again your lips met his, sharing a sloppy kiss he used to let his hands wander, pushing your damp panties to the side, fingers exploring your dripping cunt. Your heart kept accelerating its beat, body melting in his tight grasp. “Turn around for me, love, hands on the desk.”
Almost gently you were pushed down onto the desk, front meeting the expensive wood. You heard him fumble with his clothes, seemingly ripping open a condom he rolled down on his cock before he aligned himself with your heat, slowly pushing into you from behind. The both of you gasped in unison, momentarily freezing to adjust to the sensation. 
Benedict didn’t give you another warning as he started fucking you from behind, fingertips digging into the flesh of your waist, marking you as his. Your moans kept roaring through you, reverberating through the office like a new song he was listening to for the first time, finding enjoyment in the way his heart swelled in pride. 
“You have to be quiet if you don’t want any other professors to hear how good I’m fucking you.” The way he almost growled his words had your walls clenching around his cock, teeth buried in your lower lip to try and stay quiet. Tears of desperation welled up in your eyes, hands tightening their grip on the edge of his desk, needing to hold onto something before you’d give in too soon. 
His cock kept disappearing deeper inside of you with every ferocious thrust, skin meeting yours over and over again. Your jaw muscles kept twitching, teeth forced together as he wrapped one arm around your middle, thumb circling your clit. Your body kept twitching, about to give in, hanging onto the last strands of strength before he pushed you over the edge. 
You came with a sob clawing through you, letting the intense sensation flush through your system. Benedict kept fucking you through your high, chasing his own release, set on leaving you sore for the upcoming days. With your heart still racing and your blood singing in your ears you listened to the groan leaving him as he came. 
“You don’t know how much strength it took me to not touch you on the vacation.” His words drowned out your gasps, slowly pulling out of you to throw away the used condom, slowly redressing himself. You mimicked his movements, trembling hands working on your clothes before you combed them through your hair. 
“If you’re back to being an asshole tomorrow I’ll throw a fit in the middle of the hallway, I promise you that much, professor.” 
He pulled you back to him, a smirk stamped on his lips, pressing a confident kiss on yours. “Don’t worry, I am planning on,” his lips moved to your neck, making you gasp slightly, “being incredibly good to you.” 
—-
You were not sure what you spent more time doing that semester, bending over his desk or lecturing. Regardless, you had never been more eager to go to university.
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Liv's Note
Hope everyone enjoyed our latest collaboration! I have missed you all so much, especially as the one-year anniversary of the last chapter of AHL is approaching. I can't believe it has been so long. I promise I will come back with something soon, although you may be a little tired of the professor!fics haha so let me know if you'd like something different. Sending you all my love and can't wait to read your comments! As always reblog to support my writing :)
taglist:
@whore4sherlockholmes @hayden429 @evelynrosestuff @hiddlechive @paola-carter @lonadane @madz09 @goldfishdoll @satandrankmy-coffee @richieleeparker @lovecleastrange @cumbercatchmebaby @swds @heartangel1331 @princessclaire2 @arabellaxxxxx @cottagecore-cat @fuckthealarm @yourmajesty13 @lotus53 @allycat319 @aalexdavies @crushingonfreddie @sharp-cheekbones-locked @Will0wfairy @sleutherclaw @taramaria @turkisherlockian @put-the-smut-in-the-bag-rn @theyluvjadi @happyiidiot @srapalestina @Eiiareadsstuff @iwishihadabettername @sherlockwatsons @elzabethann @persephonehemingway @bloodyxsaint @weepingdreamerpanda @notfaithxo @rlupinx @sherlux @briecantopme @natsbloodynose @luvbcumbers @freakyat3am @hootoyakawa @aephereal @graciebear47 @coffeeandcheese @daisesnerd @arrozsocarrat @markywithissues @sherlock-holland @stephensidekawa @thewinterpoet2
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I still can't believe out of the whole 2 hours and 29 minutes of avengers: infinity war we didn't get a sherlock reference.
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mousefromqishan · 2 years
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Some academic Sherlock❤
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art-estrange · 2 years
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AYO I CANT BELIEVE PEOPLE ARE STILL OUT THERE MAKING BBC!SHERLOCK CONTENT!!! I was like “welp the shows over the fandoms dead byeeee” BUT ITS NOT😭😭🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹
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mykinkyyandere · 2 years
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Imagine the reader coming to Sherlock for help with a stalker, who is chasing the reader. The reader asks Sherlock for help because he is a very intelligent man and also a detective. But the reader didn't know that her stalker was actually sherlock.
AO3
When you knock on his door in tears, tell your stalker that you're afraid of your stalker, hug him when he opens his arms to comfort you... all of them are priceless for him.
I don't think you can get rid of him once you go to Sherlock. He stops stalking you from afar and wants to keep you to himself. He either locks you in his flat, revealing that he's the one stalking you, or convinces you to stay with him by making you believe you're in too much danger to be alone. But in the end, of course, you realize that the sick man is Sherlock.
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john-kramer-0807 · 1 year
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BTS of Benedict's famous jump.
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kingoftieland · 1 year
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Straight from The Movie Reliquary, one of the UK’s top sellers of authentic props and costumes from blockbuster movies and TV shows, comes this beautiful mini-display containing a genuine swatch of wallpaper from the set of the hit BBC series Sherlock! 🕵🏻‍♂️
Very nice to own a piece from one of my favorite series of all time, starring Benedict Cumberbatch as the world’s greatest detective!
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clawedandcute · 1 year
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The plot twist about Mary in Sherlock season 3 is fine and fun — whatever — BUT I think it’s way way better and more fun to have her just be a normal yet strange woman perfectly adapted — probably by divine intervention — to deal with the two Holmes boys and Watson.
No angst please (I say even tho I have a very angsty Sherlock WIP), just found family with the Holmeses and Watsons.
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hunterofshadows04 · 2 years
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HAPPY B'DAY BIG BEN 🎂🔥❤
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emrysthegoodwitch · 2 years
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I love the BBC Sherlock show, but to be completely honest I prefer the show Elementary more.
It just seems more true to how I view the characters I suppose.
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why didn’t sherlock just smoke weed instead of cigarettes like it’s so much better for you and it can help a lot more if micro dosed and controlled which john could do like bruh
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writingliv · 1 year
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Abide by my rules
I had the fantastic opportunity to work on this one-shot with @little-diable, One of the most amazing writers on this platform. This story is the product of our hard work. We hope you enjoy it ♥️
(a little treat for those readers that miss a Hard Lesson and Professor Cumberbatch)
Pairing: Professor!Benedict Cumberbatch x Fem!Reader
Summary: Professor Cumberbatch can't quite stop thinking about the most mediocre and obnoxious student he has ever had to supervise.
Tags: Smut 18+, minors DNI, oral, fingering, penetration, degradation.
Word count: 7.3k
My Masterlist -  My Taglist - @little-diable's Masterlist
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(credit to @thelostsmiles)
Fear? Panic? Panic was a better fit for the situation. Fear was an understatement. You weren’t sure what was worse, the fact that he was 21 minutes late or that the only comment he had left on your first chapter was, “Meet me in my office tomorrow at 4.30 pm.” You knew it was terrible, but it was just a first draft. You hadn’t had any time to prepare anything better. He must have known that with the amount of work he assigned you every week. This had all been a gigantic mistake, choosing him as your thesis supervisor (specially after the immediate revulsion he had shown upon meeting you), accepting to turn in your first chapter early because he was going to be away at a conference next week, all of it.
 The worst part? You had nobody else but yourself to blame. You had decided to pick the busiest professor in the department for your supervisor, obviously because of his international reputation. You had been the one to refuse to reach out to him for help in the past couple of months, too worried about bothering him or, even worse, having to meet him in person again. Yes, if you could have gone through your entire degree without meeting with Cumberbatch in person, you would have done it. 
An obvious reason could come to mind for such a declaration. Yet, the truth was all the opposite. Not only was he incredibly easy on the eye, and he dressed impeccably. He also always wore the most intoxicating cologne, completely suffocating any clever idea that could have ever been fostered in your brain. The truth was that you were incapable of being in the proximity of the man without making a fool of yourself, stumbling over your words, blushing, and failing to answer even the easiest question on your research. Yes, this had been all a gigantic mistake. 
Just as the clock struck 5 pm, you realised your professor was officially 30 minutes late. Maybe it was for the best, perhaps he had forgotten, or maybe he had decided to send his comments through email as was initially planned. Maybe the man walking towards you with a deadly expression stamped on his face was all a trick of your imagination, showing you the worst-case scenario. 
Your last name was spoken into the air, and suddenly you came to the sad realisation that the man in front of you, looking at you with disgust, was real and that he was asking you to step aside so the two of you could enter his office. You couldn’t help but let your eyes grow big as your brain processed the information, too focused on the beautiful navy suit the incredibly handsome professor was wearing. He cleared his throat instead of repeating his question, and you obliged mechanically, feeling warmth fill your cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice it or decided to ignore it, instead pulling a key from his pocket and opening the door. 
“Come in. I don’t have all day,” his voice echoed into the room as you hurried inside, closing the door behind you. You watched him as he took off his blazer, placed it on the back of his chair and sat down. He was slightly out of breath. “Sit down,” he ordered, and you complied once again, holding your bag with bruising strength. 
“If this is not a good time, I-“ you tried to speak politely, reaching for a last-minute miracle that would save you from what was coming.
“Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” Cumberbatch’s eyes finally met yours, and although the two of you were sitting, you felt his gaze stare you down. His look was empty and dark, almost as if you were a mere object in the way of his usual line of sight. “Regardless, you seem to enjoy wasting my time.” 
You swallowed loudly. Ouch, that hurt. “I am sorry-“ 
“Do you want to graduate?” He interrupted, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied your expression. You took a second to understand the question, unsure of whether it actually required a response. 
“Y-“ you finally tried to answer but were interrupted once again. 
“It doesn’t seem like it by the amount of effort you’re putting into your thesis,” he spat out the words bitterly before moving his eyes to a drawer in his desk, pulling a pile of papers filled with red lines out of it. 
“I am s-“ You tried to apologise as you recognised the title on the top sheet. 
“Do you know how many students ask me yearly to supervise their thesis?” He spoke over you once again, turning the pages in your direction. 
“I-“ you tried to answer. 
“Virtually every single one in your programme. Now, do you know how many I accept?” He continued, and this time, you were not sure it was worth even trying to reply. “Three,” he responded to himself. His eyes refused to meet your face again, focusing on the paper or the room. “Now explain to me why I have accepted to supervise what seems to be one of the most incompetent students in the programme.”
“I am not incompetent,” you were the one to interrupt him this time, gaining his gaze to fall onto yours once again. He didn’t miss the way your voice cracked at the end of the statement or the way your eyes had started to water. 
He narrowed his look, staring you down, suddenly closing his mouth and tightening his jaw. “That is not what this chapter tells me, Miss Y/LN.” 
“It has been difficult to work on it. I don’t have experience doing first-hand research,” you tried to keep your voice firm, but the shaking of your hands mirrored the one in your voice. 
“And you didn’t think that would have been something worth discussing with your supervisor?” His voice hadn’t lost any of its harshnesses, but his eyes seemed to give in for a fraction of a second before he looked away. 
“I-I didn’t want to bother,” you continued, closing your eyes in fear a tear would spill. 
“You know what bothers me, Miss Y/LN? It bothers me when you send me a piece of work you obviously have not spent time polishing. It bothers me when you come into my office and start weeping around because you cannot take accountability for your failures. Crying won’t help you here.” He stood up, almost as if he had to put physical distance between the two of you, appalled by your display of emotion. 
“I-“ you tried to speak.
“Stop apologising and do the work you are required to do. Ask the questions you need to ask and stop wasting my time. Mediocre people cannot take criticism. Now tell me, Miss Y/LN, are you mediocre?” 
“No,” you whispered, in a short breath, your gaze burning a hole in your lap.
“Then have a proper draft of this chapter on my desk as soon as I am back from my trip or find somebody else to babysit you because I am not a nanny. I am a professor.” You hadn’t even noticed him walking to the door as he spoke, not until the sound of the people walking down the hallway filled your ears. 
Your eyes moved to it, and you gave the man a quick nod, not meeting his gaze as you stepped quickly out of the room. You turned to him to ask whether you should reach out during his trip if you had any questions, but you were met with a door closing right in front of your face. 
It had been a whole week since your meeting with Cumberbatch, and you had been breaking your brain trying to figure out how to rewrite the chapter. You had emailed him a list of questions two days after your meeting, hoping he would be able to guide you in the right direction. 
He, however, had ignored your email, and now he was away at his conference, and you were sure he was not going to get back to you on time.
The stupid chapter haunted your dreams as you thought about having to withstand another feedback session. You wanted him to like your work so badly, watch him tell you he hadn't made a mistake by picking you, hoping he would look at you with anything but contempt. It had stopped being about the chapter itself the moment he had belittled you. It was personal now. You needed to prove him wrong. 
“I hate him.” you declared dramatically, covering your face with your hands and sighing loudly. 
“Who cares what he thinks? He is an ugly, sad old man! Is he short? He gives short man vibes,” your best friend replied, tired of hearing all about your traumatising encounter. 
“I care. He is my supervisor!” You replied in a dramatic cry, ignoring the sound of her finishing her bubble tea, “And no… he is not short… or ugly for that matter.”
The woman sitting across from you suddenly lost all interest in her drink, cocking an eyebrow as a question covered her face. “Don’t tell me you like him.”
“I just said that I hate him,” you sought to avoid the question, fidgeting with a leftover napkin.
“But do you like him?” She persisted, too knowledgeable in all things you. You didn’t answer, instead giving her an apologetic smile before covering your burning face. “Oh my god, you sick little shit. You wanna fuck the man that is making your life impossible?? Seek therapy,” she proceeded to shout once she had processed the information, ensuring every living soul in the neighbourhood could hear her. 
Panic? Terror? Panic felt like an understatement as you felt your legs shake just so slightly as you stood outside the professor’s door once again. The door in front of you opened before you could even knock, and you watched as your professor looked at you up and down before looking slightly repulsed. “I received your draft yesterday,” he spoke matter of fact as he walked back to his desk, signalling quickly at the chair in front of him. You followed him closely, sitting down silently. “I don’t know what to say to you, Miss Y/LN. I wish you all the best in finding another supervisor.” You felt your heart shatter and your stomach turn as the man in front of you went back to look at the computer next to him as if he had not just given you one of the worst news of your life. 
 “I-” you tried to speak, but only a whisper left your lips. The shaking of your body tainting your voice. 
“I don’t care,” he interrupted you just as quickly, his eyes not meeting yours at all. “Thank you for coming by,” he dismissed you. 
“You- you didn't answer my email,” you tried to bargain, feeling tears fill your eyes. 
“I was at a conference.”
“You told me to email you,” you could barely contain the anger and fear in your tone as he would not meet your eyes. 
“You had months to email me beforehand.”
“I cannot go back in time,” you broke into a desperate chuckle, failing to break the tension. 
“That is none of my business. Now, leave.” He pointed at the door, finally lifting his gaze to give you a disgusted look. 
“Professor- you don’t understand. I won’t get to graduate. The deadline for submitting a supervisor has passed. I would need to wait until next year!” You got up but continued to speak, begging him to reconsider with every word. 
“That is not my problem, Miss YL/N. Take this as a learning opportunity. Next time don’t bite more than you can chew.” He replied and walked you to his door, waiting for you to step outside just to close it on your face. 
Tears, you barely saw the door close as your vision was completely obfuscated by tears. 
You were not sure how you had made it home from uni. The whole morning blended in a blur of tears and insults as you reached out to every person in your university, trying to see if you could somehow find and change your supervisor. 
You had thought about cc’ing Cumberbatch but decided he didn’t deserve to watch your downfall. Once you had emailed every person you could think of and finally cried the last tears left in your tear ducts, you had texted your friends’ group chat, requesting a last minute drinking session to mourn the death of your career. 
Everyone had agreed immediately, always ready for a reason to drink and even more if it involved you being upset as you were far more likely to get wasted and, therefore, exponentially more fun.
You had agreed to meet at your usual bar, right between all your houses. It was small and always slightly too warm, but it had been the first place you had all hung out together, so it felt like home. 
Perhaps this night would help you to finally let go of your daunting thoughts, unable to stop thinking about the spiteful words the professor had spoken, how he had looked at you with a mixture of disgust, annoyance and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Too many emotions were flooding through your system, but most of all, it was embarrassment, the kind of embarrassment that left one’s organs churning, making bile rise in their throat. 
“I missed you!” You fell into your friend's embrace, deeply inhaling the comforting, all too familiar scent of her cologne. It seemed like she could feel your desperation, squeezing you extra hard before you got to greet your other friends with a halfhearted smile and eyes filled with exhaustion. 
“Spill, what’s going on?” Curious eyes kept studying you, making heat flush through you as you nursed your first drink of the night. It took you a few moments to reply, pondering over the words, trying to word the situation that rested too heavily on your shoulders and heart carefully – but the second your eyes met the ones of your friends, you started talking, giving into the need to confess the emotions keeping your soul hostage. 
“God, he’s such an asshole. I don’t even know why I picked him as my supervisor, he’s always been horrible to me, but this is a whole new level. Now I have to find somebody else, which makes me look like a fucking failure, and it’s all because of him and his need to embarrass me as if he’s getting a prize for it.” Tears threatened to well up in your eyes, tears of embarrassment, anger and sadness. Your friends studied you with pity, squeezing your hand as a couple of shot glasses were placed in front of you. 
“It sounds like he’s into you. Maybe he is trying to push you away so he won’t give in to his feelings? I mean, come on, you’re hot. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to fuck you.” A chuckle left you, shaking your head at your smirking friends – the mere thought of Professor Cumberbatch being into you left your limbs quivering, pushing your thighs together in hopes of being able to distract yourself from the heat simmering deep inside of you. 
“You know what, Y/N, let’s try to forget him for today. I’m sure somebody else will take you on with open arms. It’s his loss, honestly.” And with a smile slowly spreading on your lips, you took the first shot, soon followed by another. 
The bathroom of the pub was dark, barely any light illuminated the small room, perfect for your tipsy brain to cling to a few moments of calmness. Your vision was slightly blurred, and yet it was clear enough for you to take in your reflection in the mirror. Somehow your friends had been able to distract you for the past hours, thoughts no longer occupied by the thought of your professor and his condescending words. 
Thoughts that were now finding their way back to you, racing through your mind as if the dam had been broken, no longer able to hold back. 
“Fuck.” A groan clawed through you as you closed your eyes for a moment, lips piercing into your lower lip. Perhaps you needed to tell him how you felt, how you detested him just as much, the only thing you truly shared – your mutual hatred. And even though your hatred for him was fuelled by the crush you had been fostering for the past semesters, you reached for your phone, unlocking it with trembling fingers. 
You had to blink a few times to adjust to the bright screen, opening the email app to search for his contact. No longer could you hear your conscious thoughts nor the warning bells going off, begging you to close your phone and to return to your friends, but the spiteful need to tell the professor how you feel about him had long taken over, guiding you into the open, uneasy water like a siren wanting you to drown. 
For a second, your thumb hovered over the letters it would press any second now – as if your mind got back the control over your body’s movements – a moment that passed all too quickly. 
“You know what? Fuck you, fuck you for treating me like I’m worthless, fuck you for embarrassing me, and fuck you for dropping me.” The words kept adding up, more and more lines kept forming, with a bunch of typos you couldn’t pay attention to, desperate to get this all out of your system. “Is this all just a game to you? I only picked you as my supervisor because I thought you were hot. I had no idea you would be such an asshole. Are you into the whole degrading thing? Sure, it seems like it. Did you drop me because you want to fuck me and you can’t while being my supervisor? Not a chance you are getting to fuck me, ashsole.” 
The sound of your friend calling your name interrupted your aggressive typing, making you freeze. You weren’t nearly sober enough to reread it nor to think about the consequences of this very email, so all you did was inhale a deep breath and hit send. 
POV Benedict
The uneventful day had ended as every Thursday did, at the pub with some old friends. A couple of pints and one too many jokes later, I decided it was time to head home. I was about to book an uber after failing to hail a cab for the past ten minutes when an email notification appeared on the top of my screen. 
I would have usually ignored a work email at this time, but the title read “fuck you Cumberbtch”, and it was from that petulant girl I had met earlier today. Good riddance, I thought to myself as I remembered the way she had protested after I had delivered the damming news. 
Had I been too harsh? I don’t believe so. I had tried my best to contain my emotions as I told her. Her chapter hadn’t been all that bad, but I just simply couldn’t bare seeing her again. She was all too distracting, always having that bemused look on her face when she talked to me, the way her lips were perpetually parted as she searched my eyes. It drove me mad. Good riddance. 
I finally opened the email after staring in amusement at its title for a few seconds. The mix of small and capitalised letters and the opening line confirmed my theory that this had not been sent by a sober mind. It had started innocently enough. She was angry, fuck you this fuck you that. I merely scanned through it, positively sure this did not make the cut for the top 10 hate emails my students had sent me. 
Then the next paragraph started. Surprisingly, she had been sensible enough to divide the paragraphs yet had managed to misspell my name in every possible manner, and my skimming suddenly stopped. I forced my eyes to reread the sentence. Sure, I had made it up in my mind.
My jaw tensed as my eyes went over each word for the fourth time. Fuck her? She thinks I want to fuck her? I snorted bitterly, shaking my head as I reminisced about our encounter. Sure, she was pretty, but how incredibly vain of her to think that she was of any temptation for me. Had I given her that idea? It wasn’t really my fault that she seemed to always be in my line of sight when I walked through the university hallways and those skirts she insisted on wearing… god, I could not possibly be blamed for having to take a second look. But those were all signs of curiosity, amusement at best, not attraction. I-I was positively sure that it was not that. 
Y/N had invaded my mind all Friday as I went back to read her message again and again. She hadn’t sent an apology follow-up email which was surprising. Wasn’t she scared? These were grounds for getting kicked out of the university. She should be begging for my forgiveness, showing up at my office in tears and with gifts. Yet, my office had been empty all day, and no emails from her had entered my mailbox. I found myself jumping to check every time the familiar sound pinged on my computer. Yet, her name never appeared. 
Her words echoed in my head as I looked out of my window, pensive. 
Attracted to her? Please, she couldn’t turn in a proper chapter if her life depended on it. 
I could have helped her… she did send questions. They were stupid questions. She could have answered them if she actually cared about keeping me as her supervisor. 
Maybe I could have pulled the answers out of her, in between moans even, help her find the… solution… no. Absolutely not. 
Stupid girl, with her stupid comments, putting stupid false thoughts in my mind.
I twirled the whisky in my glass mindlessly as one of my colleagues talked about his latest grant. Was it something related to Asia? Some long-term project. It had been an incredibly boring night, as these balls usually were. The faculty was required to show up early, the food was usually passable, and the alcohol was bottomless. As always, we were requested not to drink too much, to leave that to the students and to stay until the end of the award ceremony. 
This year I was in charge of presenting the “Impact Award” to the student that had the greatest impact on the department. I was given the white envelope and told to wait until the ceremony to open it. I rolled my eyes at the instructions and shoved it in my breast pocket, ready for this whole ordeal to end. 
The stupid message I had received two days before had yet to leave my mind. I had tried to ignore it but had completely failed to do so. She had somehow turned into my only constant thought. I had started to wonder whether she had managed to find another supervisor, and the thought of her succeeding turned my stomach just as much as the thought of her failing. Why couldn’t she just email me begging me for a third chance? Apologising for her stupid, inappropriate message.
I had stuck to the faculty’s corner for most of the night, barely acknowledging the room full of students. Some came to greet other professors, but obviously, nobody was stupid enough to try to speak to me. The sound of a microphone in the distance finally cheered my mood. It was almost time to go home. 
The dean was introduced by the student society president, and then the award ceremony started. The entire party crowded under the stage as prize after prize was announced. The mass of students was barely distinguishable as I kept my gaze high on the stage next to the rest of the faculty. I knew she was most likely between them, but I furiously tried to ignore that thought, in fear it would force my eyes to look for her. 
My turn finally came as a colleague introduced the prize and then me. I stepped forward, pulled the envelope out of my pocket, and opened it as the entire room grew silent. It took me a second to realise what I was reading, and only when whispers started to spread across the room I realised I had been holding my breath this entire time. 
I enunciated her name clearly, coldly, and loudly. It burned my throat as it came out, almost as if it had been stuck there for three days. I barely noticed movement around me as I tried my best to keep my expression empty, ignoring the cheering that broke out around the room. 
Somebody cleared their throat loud enough for me to hear by my side, and then is when I turned around and saw her. Saw her for real this time. My mouth opened to say something, but nothing really came out, my eyes too focused on exploring her face, her make-up, and the beautiful gown she was wearing, which showed just enough of her décolleté for my blood to leave my brain. 
Her face carried a myriad of emotions, excitement? Embarrassment? Anger? Amusement? She extended her hand towards me, and I looked at it for a second, confused, until I remembered where we were and what I was holding. I handed her the prize, her fingers grazing mine just so slightly yet setting my body on fire. Fuck. I guess. I guess I did want to fuck her. 
Your POV 
You didn’t know what it was, perhaps the glass of champagne you had drowned way too quickly, or perhaps the encouraging cheers of your fellow students, but a sense of victory began to take over your system like a thunderstorm clashing to the dry ground, animating your spirit once again. 
The professor wore an unreadable expression as he stared at you, handing you the prize as you murmured a small “Thank you, professor”. 
It had taken a lot of encouragement from your friends for you to turn up at this event, wanting to hide in your bedroom, still not over the email your drunk self had written, wondering where all that courage had come from. Deep down you had hoped for the professor to reply to it, ordering you to turn up at his office, asking you to apologise – and even though your wandering thoughts had painted a picture of you ending up on your knees, eyes staring into his, he hadn’t reached out. 
You felt his eyes on your body as you left the stage, chasing the growing distance between you two with a smirk of victory lingering on your lips. Adrenaline was rushing through you, heightening your senses, making you feel the crackling tension lingering in the air as if it was betokening a cruel end, something the mere human brain couldn’t pick up on. 
“Miss Y/LN, can I speak to you for a moment?” You froze, slowly turning away from your friends towards the tall professor. It took you a moment to snap into motion, handing your friend the prize before you nodded at him, gasping as he clamped his hand down on your wrist. The man guided you through the crowd, not paying any attention to the swooning students, taking in his handsome frame. 
There was no way out. You couldn’t escape – oh, how the tables have turned. No longer were you the victorious one, his trap had snapped shut, once again caging you against him. 
You barely got any time to take in the museum's showcases, the relics retelling stories older than any sources you had worked with so far, as you came to rest in an empty hallway. The professor’s dark gaze lingered on your features, flickering between your eyes and lips – or at least that’s what your mind tried to tell you, making you awfully aware of the way he was staring at you. 
“I’m waiting.” His voice sounded rougher than you had expected, arms crossed in front of his chest as he stared down at you. 
“For what?” You hated how small your voice sounded, not daring to speak up with the man towering over you. He had made your past weeks miserable, to say the very least, drawing tears from your eyes at any given chance, as if he needed your misery to survive, his fuel to keep on going, and yet you found yourself drawn to him. 
“How about you start with an apology, miss Y/LN? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Not only have you embarrassed yourself, but you could be expelled for insinuating that I want something sexual from you. Are you aware of that? You’re too naive for your own good.” Heat flushed through you, torn between arousal and confusion, unable to follow his train of thoughts as the professor crept closer with every syllable rolling off his tongue. 
It was no secret that he held a special kind of power over you, making you tremble whenever he looked at you for a second too long; it was no secret that you were long gone, unable to crawl from the grave you had dug yourself; but fuck this was something else, something you hadn’t been prepared for. 
“Excuse me? You’ve made it your mission to treat me horribly, and for what? Is this some sick game you need to satisfy yourself? Do you hate yourself so much that you treat me like I’m nothing?” Your anger was guiding you, drawing each and every word from your lips without your mind’s control. Shudders ran down your spine the second he took a step closer, front pressed against yours, wrapping the scent of his expensive cologne around you. 
“I’d be careful with my words if I were you, miss Y/LN. This schoolgirl crush of yours on me is too obvious. You should get over it quickly.” His hand found your cheek, cupping it all too gently, not fitting the harsh tone of his words. It felt as if you were stuck in some kind of simulation. His actions didn’t match his words, drawing you in closer even though he told you to distance yourself. You couldn’t reply, no longer able to put together words, your mouth felt too dry, tongue tied from the different emotions that pushed your body into overdrive. 
His thumb began to stroke your cheek, allowing your soft skin to press against his, praying to whoever was listening that he would give in, pressing his lips against yours. This was some trick of your brain. You were sure of it, unable to understand why you were into him, even though he treated you awfully. But the professor didn’t give you any more time to overthink, successfully silencing your racing thoughts with a slow kiss. 
Even though you had been praying that he’d finally kiss you, you needed a handful of seconds to give in, hand finding the collar of his suit jacket to pull him even closer. A soft moan rumbled through you as he added more pressure to his touch, with one hand finding your waist, the other still placed on your warm cheek. Your heart was racing in your chest, pounding against your ribs, trying to communicate with his. 
The professor pushed you against the wall, caging you between his broad chest and the cold wall, making goosebumps rise on your exposed arms. 
The kiss grew hungrier, and you pulled him closer if that was even possible. A moan left your throat as his hands started to move, the one on your waist reaching for your hip while the other moved to your neck. 
“This part of the museum is closed!” A voice shouted from a distance, forcing the two of you to break apart and stare at each other in panic. 
“W-” you tried to whisper that you needed to go, but he was already on the move, grabbing your hand and taking you with him. 
He led you through a myriad of empty hallways, knowing the place better than you ever could. Finally, he found the room he seemed to be looking for, a private office, and you both stood outside of it. You tried to catch your breath, realising you had been running through the building. 
He was looking at you, a severe expression covering the myriad of thoughts that were going through his mind. This was wrong, but he wanted it so bad. 
“Will we get in trouble if we go in there?” You tried to break the tension, eager to feel him all over you again. Unhappy with the newly found distance between your bodies. 
“Probably not. I know the director,” he replied in the same cold tone, “we don’t have to…” He tried to move away, but you pulled him closer by his hand. 
“I want to,” you interrupted him, reaching for his neck with one hand and for the door handle with the other, opening it. You met his lips before he could say anything else, this time taking control of the kiss as you entered the room. 
No longer could you listen to your thoughts, fully wrapped up in the sensation, the movements of his hand, how he hastily pushed you against the closed door, toying with the fabric of your dress. God, you were desperate for a few seconds of silence, wishing that you could freeze time so that your mind could catch up with what was about to happen – but time kept moving, and so did his hands.
“I can finally put your chatty mouth to use,” the words were a warning your mind didn’t pick up on, gasping in surprise as he suddenly let go of you, watching you with an expectantly gaze. It seemed as if your body perfectly understood the command, dropping to the cold floor with your eyes not leaving his once. Fuck, you’ve lost count of the number of times you had dreamt about doing this, wondering how he’d touch you, how he’d manhandle you to satisfy his every need. “Look at you, such a dumb, desperate girl. Tell me, how many times have you thought about my cock?” 
“I-” A heavy exhale left you, not prepared to speak up, stumbling over the words you wanted to speak. A humourless laugh left the professor, only interrupted by the sound of his hands undoing his trousers, freeing his hard cock. Your eyes flickered down to the hand he reached out to you, watching you with raised eyebrows. Slowly you parted your lips to spit into his palm, the palm he brought to his cock seconds later, using your saliva as lube. 
“Speak up when you’re spoken to, or are you too dumb to do even that?” You heavily swallowed before you shook your head, murmuring a soft “A lot” that seemed to satisfy the man. He stepped closer, guiding his cock to your slightly swollen lips – still bruised from your heavy makeout session – to tap your lower lip with his tip. You greedily complied, taking him into your mouth with a moan clawing through you. 
He rested heavily on your tongue, making the corners of your mouth burn within the first few seconds. The professor didn’t hold back. He fucked your mouth as if you had sucked him off numerous times before, hand placed on the back of your head, trapping you as if you were at risk of escaping. Tears blurred your vision, making it harder for you to take in the pleasure drunken expression he wore, and yet his groans seemed to satisfy you just enough to make you proud – it seemed like you were finally doing something right after all. 
“Fuck, I should have known that a girl who likes to run her mouth knows how to suck a cock. Such a slut for me, aren’t you?” You could only hum around him, unable to reply, with his cock disappearing down your throat. If you had one wish left to determine the rest of your life, you’d beg the spirits above to make you stay on your knees for the man till the last breath would pass your lips – forever addicted to the sound of his groans. “Atta girl, you’re doing so well for me. I think I’ll keep you around.”
An unfamiliar sense of pride filled your every vein, rushing through your system like a poison made to kill. Not once did you pay attention to the pain of the ground pressing against your knees, not once did you worry about the pain lingering in your lungs, making it harder to breathe. You found yourself hooked on the mere chance of making him cum, finally succeeding in doing something right – at least something he was praising you for. 
He was twitching in your mouth, eyes zoning in on the tears running down your cheeks as if rain kept pouring from the sky. It seemed like he was caught in his thoughts for a moment or two before he pulled you off his cock without another warning. And within seconds, you were pulled to your feet, hands reaching out to grasp his forearms before you could lose your balance. 
“I bet you’re soaked, dripping for me just because I finally allowed you to suck my cock.” You gasped in surprise as the professor pushed you against the table in the middle of the small room, pushing you to sit on the tabletop so he could stand between your legs. One of his hands disappeared between your thighs, smirking as he felt the fabric of your damp panties, pushing them aside to brush two fingers through your arousal-covered folds. Fuck, he definitely knew how to touch you, slender fingers making you tremble against him within seconds. “It’s pathetic how desperate you are for me, so ready to please me. I bet you’d do anything for me.” 
“Please, I need more.” Your voice sounded unfamiliar, dripping with something you hadn’t felt in a long time, an insatiable need only he could still. Without warning, he pushed two fingers into your tightness, walls clenching around him to try and adjust to the new sensation. Fuck, he’d be able to make you cum in seconds, and yet all you wanted to feel was his cock, stretching you to draw cries of his name from your lips. 
“Are you sure you want this? I need words, Y/N.” It was the first time he hadn’t called you by your last name, and yet you couldn’t focus on the fact, only sobbing a quiet “Yes” in hopes that he’d finally fuck you. He pulled his fingers from you, bringing them up to your lips to watch you clean his digits with your tongue, set on following his every command. The professor fumbled with his wallet, pulling out a condom he ripped open with his teeth, struggling to stop his smirk from widening as you took it from him with shaking fingers, rolling it down his cock. 
His mouth met yours, perhaps he wanted to silence you, keeping your moans bottled in as he pushed in all too slow – savouring the moment; perhaps he wanted to remind you of the power he held over you, tongue battling yours; but perhaps he simply wanted to kiss you, feeling you as close as humanly possible. His cock perfectly stretched you, making you gasp at every movement of his, pulling out only to push in faster, body meeting yours with every ferocious thrust. 
The world could end right there, and then, earth could stop spinning to make those who were holding the higher ground lose their power, and yet you would never think of parting from him again, praying that this moment would stay like this forever. Fuck, this crush would only get worse over the following weeks and months – should he decide to keep you around after all. 
“Don’t you dare close your eyes.” It was a silent warning, clawing through him like the moan that left you struggling to follow his command. His eyes pierced into yours, making this moment feel even more intimate – if that was even possible – unleashing the fire simmering inside of you, burning through you to leave holes for his poison to seep into your soul, binding you to him with the darkest kind of magic. 
Your walls fluttered around his cock, you’d cum all too soon, cutting the moment short with his name leaving your lips like a silent prayer. But it seemed like this was what he was chasing after all, finding a sick pride in the way he was making you feel, forcing you to bow for the man who was making your life a living hell. 
His thumb found your bundle of nerves, circling your clit at a fast pace matching his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You tried to lean in for another kiss, but you couldn’t move, body tensing up to keep you in place, not allowing you to move closer. 
“Be a good girl and ask for it. Use your words, love.” Fuck, the pet name left you choking on your air, teary eyes getting lost in his. You nodded your head, teeth buried in your lower lip to try and hold on, not daring to cum just yet. 
“Please let me cum, please, professor.” He took his time replying, letting his free hand wander up to your neck, burying his fingers in your skin as he studied your features. There was something about his gaze that left you panting, wanting to hear his every thought keeping his mind occupied. And with a soft “Cum”, he allowed you to let go, crying his name as your orgasm rocked through you, face buried in the crook of his neck. He followed you soon after, burying himself deep inside of you as a string of praises left his lips for the first time that night. You could barely hear any of it, your mind too foggy from the overwhelming orgasm. 
Suddenly he moved, pulling away from you and stepping aside, taking off the condom and fixing his suit. You immediately felt the need to reach for him, the room's cold air suddenly highlighting the incredible feeling of his body in yours, his hands against your skin. It was gone now, and you were not sure you were willing to let go of it just yet. 
“P-” you tried to call for him, unsure of what you even wanted to say. 
He interrupted you before you could continue, not even turning around to look at you, “You should go. I am sure your friends are looking for you.” 
Ouch, you thought, understanding that this was a one-time thing. That this had not meant anywhere as much to him as it had to you. A soft exhale left your lips as you tried to hide the disappointment, fixing your dress. He was still giving you his back, so you walked to the door, ready to leave. 
As you reached for the handle, he spoke again, bringing some life back into your system. “Y/N…” you held your breath, scared that any movement would ruin the moment, “if you’d still like me to supervise your thesis. I’ll gladly do it… we can schedule a meeting to go over your chapter….” 
You couldn’t help but smile and bite your lip in excitement, sure he couldn’t see any of it from your back. “I will email you.”
“I look forward to your email,” he replied as you walked out of the room, closing the door behind you.
------
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fandomcentralsposts · 2 months
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When the director of BBC Sherlock said "cut" Andrew Scott must of heard "cunt" bc damn
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pot-o-curry · 1 year
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Day 20 : (Drunk) Sherlock
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mysharona1987 · 4 months
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Benedict, now you have to solve a small village murder mystery.
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petite-madame · 3 months
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A 170-year-old young man - (2024)
Happy birthday to the world's greatest detective, 170 y.o today 🥳💗
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