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.

All of You

MAIN MASTER LIST

ANON Request: Okay I can't have enough Sherlock angst so maybe just some feels or kidnapping or something like that. Thanks for your great work <3🙇🏼‍♀️ 

ANON REQUEST 2: I love your fics 💕💕 if requests are open, could you do one with BBC Sherlock in which the reader is kidnapped? (but they both have not confessed their love for each other yet, and the kidnapping perhaps prompts Sherlock to confess. idk up to you!) i just l o v e your Sherlock one shots!!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Haunted house, drugging, weapons, canon typical violence, kind of OOC Sherlock, cursing (Let me know if I have missed anything)

Author's Note: So, I got two requests A WHILE AGO and they were so similar I just decided to combine the two of them. (Requests are still not open, I’m just getting to the ones I never got around to writing to.) As for requests, I will be opening them back up once Arbitrary Lives and A Sinner's Redemption have concluded, so start thinking of some request ideas!!

The irony of the situation did not evade you. Sherlock’s latest case involved a serial killer. A serial killer who they were looking for at an abandoned haunted house attraction. The home wasn’t actually haunted, it was just a place years ago that would host a scary Halloween amusement park. However, that information did little to ease your nerves. What made things worse was that Sherlock suggested to split up. You, John, and he would all go separate ways to search for the killer. 

Immediately, you had declined. You've seen too many horror movies with John to know that splitting up was the worst thing you could do. Not to mention the experiences you’ve had working with the consulting detective for years. Never split up, that’s what you told yourself, yet here you were, by yourself, walking down the dimly lit halls of the gigantic house. Your mind ran a-wire with the thought of how many hidden rooms and passageways that could be kept in the walls. That image alone terrified you. 

With each step you took the house creaked and groaned. If that wasn’t a big neon sign blaring to the killer that you were there, you didn’t know what it was. You couldn’t but wince as the whole house squeaked with your latest step and at that point, you weren’t sure why you were trying to be quiet. 

Muttering curses under your breath you lowered your torch and turned around. You wanted to find Sherlock or John. Their presence made you feel safer and all you wanted to be right now was safe. Your body shivered as a chill crept up your legs to the back of your neck. The waves of nerves tickled the minuscule hairs on your body and if this was a horror movie eerie music would be playing. 

“Why did the killer have to be in a haunted house,” you whined as you approached the stairs to the bottom floor of the home where you last saw your tall consulting detective. 

Looking down the wooden steps you searched for the bright light of Sherlock’s torch. There was no light to be found. You sighed and pulled out your phone trying to be smart about this. The bright screen of your phone illuminated your view darkening everything behind and in front of you. Your fingers danced across the screen as you pulled up Sherlock’s contact. You pressed a button. The screen flashed with Sherlock’s name and your phone buzzed. But before you could speak or before Sherlock could answer, everything went black. 

There was something so insightful about being knocked out: the darkness of everything, the pain you felt in the back of your head like a soundtrack, and the erasure of all feelings. It was almost impossible to feel terrified about the haunted house when you weren’t even conscious in the first place. It was oddly peaceful and quiet, something you haven’t known in a long time since working for Sherlock. You weren’t sure how you became unconscious in the first place. As you lay in the darkness, there was one thought floating around in your mind. Shit. 

____

“You’re finally awake,” a hoarse voice cooed. 

A harsh light crept into your view causing you to wince. You longed for the darkness that you were encased in moments before. Soon your eyes adjusted to the bright light and began to take in your surroundings. 

First things first, you were strapped down to a table. The straps were extremely tight leaving you with barely any room to breathe. You gulped and began to twist underneath the straps. If you could move in the first place. 

The voice tsked before laughing. “It’ll be a while before you can move. The paralytic works fast.” Your eyes widened and you began to whimper. “Don’t worry, you can still scream.” 

That when you saw them, your captor and the killer. Dauning a medical mask and surgical wear they leaned in close and sniffed you. You closed your eyes at the proximity, wishing that they wouldn't be real if you couldn’t see them. “I can smell the fear coming off of you. It’s intoxicating,” your captor chuckled. 

“No…” you whimpered. Your voice was barely audible. 

The killer pulled back away from you. “No?” 

In your mind, you could go two ways. The first option, go with the idea that your “no” was terrified and try and plead with the killer. It was dignified and kind of cowardly but it was what you wanted to go with. Second, you could play it off cool. Well, as cool as you could while being strapped to a table with the killer’s face hovering over you. You could fight back. Taunt him and maybe provide Sherlock and John with enough time to try and find you. God, you hoped that they’d find you and that your brilliant consulting detective could solve the case. Now that you thought about it the second option seemed more plausible. 

“No, he’s going to find me. He’ll beat you. That’s what he does,” you muttered. Your voice still trembled as you delivered this line, but your eyes conveyed your determination and belief in what you said. 

All enjoyment from the killer’s face vanished and a darker expression replaced it. The look they were giving you would have paralyzed you if you weren’t already drugged. Their breath was scalding hot as they breathed into your ear. “He’ll never figure it out.”

You scoffed. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? He hasn’t even figured out that you’re gone.” They pulled down their medical mask to flash you a wicked grin. “This house has so many rooms. Twist and turns. You’ll be dead before he finds this room. 

You paled. All hope of playing it cool dissipated. You were terrified: Breath evaded you, your heart beat faster than it ever had before, your blood ran cold, and tiny beads of sweat encased your body. 

“I’m right.  You can even see him here,” the killer pulls up video footage of the house. In the middle of all the split screens, you can see Sherlock and John searching. A tight pain in your chest formed at the sight. “You know that your dear detective is too enamored with the case to remember that others exist. It’s a game and he wants to win, even if it means some of his teammates get left behind.” You can’t help the tears that pool in your eyes causing them to laugh. “It’ll be too late when he realizes it and the closest thing he’ll have to you again are the organs that will be in the bodies of others. You’ll be de–”

“Wrong.” 

You sobbed upon hearing that voice. It was Sherlock. He was here. He had come. The killer whirled around to find Sherlock standing with a gun in his hand aimed at them. 

“How…” the killer said. 

“Should’ve checked your cameras, then you would have realized they were on a loop,” the comforting voice of John spoke. 

The killer’s jaw clenched. 

“John,” Sherlock said. “ Get Y/N.” 

John snuck out behind Sherlock and carefully moved over to you. His eyes scanned over your distressed figure as his hands began to fiddle with the straps. 

“It’s alright, Y/N,’ John whispered as he untied the woman. 

“I can’t,” you shook your head. “...I can’t move.” 

John’s eyes filled with worry as the killer chuckled. “She’s paralyzed. I wouldn’t move her if I were you.” The killer turned around to look back down at you. 

“If you move one more centimeter there will be a bullet lodged in your head,” Sherlock growled. 

“You wouldn’t,” the killer hissed. 

“On the contrary. I like to win my games, even if it means that the rules are bent.” Sherlock’s eyes were glaring at the killer. 

Suddenly a muffled voice came from above. It was Lestrade. “Sherlock?”

“Down here, Gary!” 

Time seemed to move superficially fast as the police entered the basement.  However, time stilled the moment Sherlock retrieved you. John tried his best to pick you up but with the combination of his size and your apparent unmoving state, he found himself useless. Instead, Sherlock stepped up. With limp limbs and a stiff body, Sherlock lifted you off the cold and hard metal table. His gentle hand cradled your head as your body curled into him. He carried you as if you were the most precious and fragile things in the world. His secure and stable arms wrapped around you, pulling you immensely too close to his body, but you did not mind. He was warm and you were cold. He was safe and you were scared. Sherlock was exactly what you needed, and he was there. He was always there for you. 

Soon the blaring lights of the police cars filled your vision, concealing the ambulance waiting for you. You hated you couldn’t cling to Sherlock as he passed you over to the EMTs. They scanned your body checking for injuries and asking you questions while they did so. With each response and your insistence on your perfectly fine well-being, the EMTs grew more and more concerned. They wanted to take you to the hospital, but that was the last place you wanted to be: being strapped down to a table, with an IV in your arm, the medical masks, and scrubs. It was all too much too soon. The fear in your eyes was apparent at their conclusion, but before you could open your mouth to display your concerns, Sherlock spoke.

“She’ll be coming home with me.”

“But sir, she’s still drugged and paral–,” the EMT began. 

“If you just used your eyes, you would see that the hospital is the last place she wants to be,” Sherlock interjected. 

The EMT briefly gazed over at you before recognizing the truth in Sherlock’s words. 

“She still needs to be checked on after th–”

“I’m a doctor, I can make sure everything is alright,” John chimed in. 

You looked at John and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” your hoarse voice whispered. 

John smiled back. The EMT looked between the three of you and sighed placing her hands on her hips. “Alright, I’ll sign off on the paperwork and she’s free to go.” 

The moment the paperwork was signed, you were whisked back to Baker Street. Sherlock never left your side as he carried you into his and John’s shared flat and placed you down on their sofa. Mrs.Hudson had brought up tea and snacks in an attempt to get something into your stomach. However, the idea of shifting your body to raise your arms and extend your hand to retrieve the cup of tea and biscuits seemed too big of an ordeal. You were exhausted. Instead, you found the weight of your head too much to bear and collapsed onto Sherlock’s shoulder. With one look, John and Mrs. Hudson ushered themselves out of the flat. 

Your body was still trembling as the mental scars still flashed vividly in your mind. 

“You’re safe,” Sherlock hummed in a soothing voice. His gentle arms came up to wrap around your torse encouraging a wave of stillness to course through your body. You weren’t sure of what to say. So many ifs running through your head, so you settled for a thank you. 

Sherlock responded by pulling you closer. “I’ll always find you.” 

A watery smile appeared on your face. It was a smile that you forced as tears crept into the corner of your eyes. “Well, if you hadn’t made it in time, I would have given you my skull. That way you’d always have me on your mantel.” You tried to laugh. It was a poor attempt at a joke and you weren’t really sure why you were making it. You just did. 

Sherlock pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. You tried to look away, but his firm hand cupped your chin directing your gaze at him. “No. I don’t want your skull. I want you alive and safe. Anything less and I’ll never be satisfied.” 

His eyes seemed to glow as you stared into them. The gorgeous blue lulled you in like a siren at sea. You couldn’t turn away as he brought your face closer to wipe away the tears that had fallen from your face. 

“Okay,” you said in a hushed tone.

Sherlock seemed content with that answer and pulled you in to brush his lips against your forehead. He wanted to do more but now wasn’t the time. He wanted to whisper his heart and soul’s greatest secret into your ears and breathe it into your skin. He wanted you, all of you, but for now, holding you close, your heart thumping against each other, and the peaceful melody of your breath against his neck was all he needed.

____

Comment below if you would like to be added to the Sherlock One shot tag list! Feel free to reblog or comment, I love hearing from readers.

Tag list:

@bartokthealbinobat

@astudyinlaura

@sherlockstrangewolf

@yourleastfavoriteguyinthechair

______

Hai, do you take request for Enola Holmes? If so could you do a headcannon for Yandere husband Sherlock holmes x Young Duchess Of Somerset who is a very wealthy, prestigious, powerful and Influential woman in England?

(Both in headcannon and Boi, please)

❝ 🔍 — lady l: I hope you like it, anon! I certainly enjoyed writing it and here is the link to his bot :) have fun and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: stalking, mention of kidnapping and death and unhealthy relationships.

❝🔍pairing: yandere!sherlock holmes x female!reader.

Sherlock Holmes never planned to get married, too focused on his work to even think about the possibility of getting a wife and having children. He always kept that thought in mind for a long time, until the day he met you, the Duchess of Somerset.

During an investigation, Sherlock had to go to a ton society ball to get clues and with the money and fame he had, it wasn't difficult. He just didn't expect to find you there, so beautiful and surrounded by flatterers. Holmes did not expect to be taken away the way he was by your smile.

You changed his way of thinking very quickly, leaving him intrigued and a little curious. Who were you, anyway? And why don't you get out of his thoughts? Endless, unanswered questions were all Holmes had.

Sherlock did extensive research about you and your family. You came from a noble and powerful family, very rich and prestigious and there were many benefits to marrying you. Several young nobles had their eyes on you as your title and powers were very tempting. This made him furious.

They were all leeches who only wanted you for the power and riches that came with it. They could never appreciate you the way he would, they couldn't worship the ground you walk on the same way he would. They would never be as good to you as he would be.

Sherlock wasn't sure why he felt this way about you, but he knew he couldn't allow you to marry one of those unworthy fellows. He had to have you, it was a need, a desire that dominated him completely. You would be his, he would be sure of that.

He was quick to pursue you and court you. Being the excellent detective that he was, Sherlock quickly discovered all of your interests and places you used to go to and he consequently started appearing in those places and talking to you. He knew he shouldn't seem crazy, so Sherlock was kind and showed an obvious interest in you.

It didn't take long for him to become in love with you, even with the dark and unhealthy feelings taking over his mind, Sherlock still remained the same with you. You also fell in love with him gradually, he was handsome, kind and not a brainless sycophant. He was everything you could want in a husband, so when, one autumn afternoon, he asked you to marry him, you happily said yes. Holmes smiled at this, everything was going the way he planned.

Fortunately for your family's life, they had no problem accepting Sherlock into the family. He was a good suitor and had good fame and fortune, so he was good to marry you, the Duchess of Somerset. Sherlock was happy about that, satisfied with the fact that he wouldn't have to convince your family in less orthodox ways.

Life with him was good and Sherlock was a good husband by the standards of the time. He was faithful to you and loved you deeply. You never thought a husband could love his wife as much as he did, but Sherlock was one of a kind. He made you feel loved every day, every little bit of you was adored by him. He loved the ground you walked on and did everything he could to make you happy.

He spoiled you endlessly, anything you wanted he would buy for you. Even if it wasn't necessary due to your status, Sherlock still loved giving you gifts. Your wardrobe grew a lot after your wedding and there were many times when you only wore a dress once out of the many you received.

Sherlock was very protective and slightly possessive over you, but he won't let you down. He will vent his jealousy and fury in other ways, he could never think of upsetting you with that. But his overprotection could be suffocating, as he made a point of personally taking care of his safety and he was constantly attached to you. It was part of the job, he would tell you.

He would teach you self defense if you didn't know. He knows it's dangerous, but Sherlock wants you to know how to defend yourself in case he can't protect you. Especially when you were pregnant, he wouldn't take any risks.

Being the Duchess of Somerset and having so much power and influence wouldn't stop Sherlock from pursuing you. He might have some problems with that, since due to your heritage he could never kidnap you because he would be discovered, but he would deal with it. After all, you are his and he is yours. And when he became your husband, he swore to himself that he would never stop loving you and he would never let you go.

You are united until death, at the end of it all.

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

Could I have a fluffy imagine/one-shot of Mike with a librarian girl? Like Mike goes back to the place he got the dream book from, and now he wants something to get his mind off (the trauma of the movie) so the librarian helps him find something else he’d like. Maybe a Sherlock Holmes detective or something. Thanks so much!

~ Mike Schmidt x Reader ~

= Title: Friendly Nostalgia

= Character: Mike Schmidt

= Media: Movie!Five Nights At Freddie's

= Prompt: N/A

= Description: The aftermath of Mike's job as a security guard had got him thinking, as well as tripled his internal hardships. In an attempt to cool his troubling mind, Mike decides to go into his old library to find one of his favorite literatures, and maybe a new friend along the way.

= Request: "Could I have a fluffy imagine/one-shot of Mike with a librarian girl? Like Mike goes back to the place he got the dream book from, and now he wants something to get his mind off (the trauma of the movie) so the librarian helps him find something else he’d like. Maybe a Sherlock Holmes detective or something. Thanks so much!"

= Tags: Fluff ! Small Angst? Librarian Reader + Setting, Shy Mike, Sweet Talk, One-Shot, Platonic (with Slight Romantic Implications? It's up for you to decide !) + Reader is !Fem

= Warnings: Childhood Trauma + Kidnapping Mentions, Child Death/Spirits, Struggles with Mental Health (Depression, Anxiety, Stress) + FNAF Movie Spoilers !

Morning birds flocked through the featherweighted clouds thinning across the fresh sky. A chilled exhale rattled out of Mike's throat, the cold dawning air nipping at his skin. His head was foggy with exhaustion, yet flickering with soft excitement. The streets were empty, much to his content. Crowded boulevards and sputtering car exhaust muddied his senses, he hated it more than anything.

He shoved his reddened hands down his pockets to shield the breezes from his fingertips. Mike hated the overwhelming traits of the outside world even more after his accursed job as a solo-unit of security. The crumbled children in the machines, Vanessa wilting away within her hospital bed and William. It was too much and he couldn't handle it.

This whole mess was the reason he was heading towards his local library, one he hadn't stepped in the years. It was the only place he was comfortable visiting now. It was quiet, no people to talk to, and he'd be able to pluck out his favorite contents in peace.

Mike had been particularly fixated on Sherlock Holmes, lately. The whole idea of mysteries had made him want to learn more, even after being injured at Freddie's. Weirdly enough, after scavenging through his old contents, it unraveled more and more about what happened those dreaded nights ago.

Mike hummed quietly as he lazily pushed the glass door. The silence calmed his senses. There were a few locals, but they were buried between pages. After awkwardly exposing his card and being gently discarded to explore the aisles alone. He started trailing around the mystery section. He couldn't pick one story, so he was doing nothing but strolling.

"Do you need some help?" A voice peaked his shoulders for a flash. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, sir."

You apologized, your voice was soothed. Mike shook his head gently, "No, no. It's fine, don't worry."

A smile spreads across your lips and you read the aisle with an eager eye. "You like mystery?"

"I've just gotten into it, really." Mike slid his hands through his curls promptly. It was strange how comfortable he felt, it felt tender, weird enough. "It's a sweet genre. I like it when it keeps me guessing. Gets my mind off everything."

"Yeah. Fiction is a great outlet, that's why I became a librarian." You explained warmly, "It's something I've always dreamed of."

Mike released a breathy chuckle in response, unsure how to reply.

You extended your hand towards the neatly rowed bookshelf, trailing your finger until you slipped out a rough looking cover. Your eyes wandered to him, "You like Sherlock Holmes?"

"He's actually the reason I'm here." Mike tilted his head lightly with a calmed grin. He had no idea why he felt so comfortable around some random librarian girl he had just met, but he had no internal reason to question it. "I have a few of his stories at my house, my little sister found them."

"That's adorable," you brushed your cheek. "Maybe you'd like this one. Personally, I think it's one of his most underrated works." You handed him the book, and his eyes flickered up and down in interest.

"Wow,"

"Cool right?"

Mike nodded.

"I don't think I've seen you before here, uh," You trailed off.

"Oh. Oh, sorry, I'm Mike. Mike Schmidt," He shook your hand softly. "I actually haven't been here in a long time."

You arched a brow, face still settled, "What made you come back?"

"Well, first off, Sherlock Holmes." He shook the book lightly with a low chuckle. "And, well, work. It's been hard, so, I thought I could read a bit to calm things down."

You curled down to pile some scattered books in your hand, "Well, I hope you come back again, Mike. Maybe we can talk about some more stories, outside of here of course. I get a bit loud with stories."

You both chuckled, "I'll come back. I could always use some more mystery." Mike had been clutching the book with eager hands, along with a fluttered expression. He hadn't connected with someone in quite a while. It felt refreshing.

"Well, I have to get back to work. Goodbye, Mike." You stirred back into the halls. Mike whispered in response. "Thank you,"

He wanted to talk more, but, he didn't want to hold you back. Mike's eyes flew down to the hard-leathered surface. He chewed his lip,

I should have asked her for her name . . .

And with that thought resting heavily in his mind, Mike left the library, with a giddy attitude and a little too many mystery books in his hands.

you are the bane of my existence and the object of my desires

pairing: Captain Syverson x fem!reader

Summary: Feral Alpha Sy moves to a cabin owned by one of his old army buddy Logan. over time a relationship with his Omega neighbor blossoms. One morning hes thrown into a rut and you help him through it.

Tags: 18+, ABO, feral Alpha Syverson, Omega fem!reader, smut, dom/sub, knotting, orgasm, angry feral Sy, hard sex, pussy eating, oral, language, slightly connected to the MCU, mention of The Red Room, though a different interpretation of it, mention of Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

words: 3.9k

Authors note: hiii, finally written an abo sy oneshot. there isnt enough abo fics in the Henry Cavill universe, but there should be imo. this is pure filth just so yall r warned. A bit of backstory on my version of Captain Syverson. Hes originally born in Norway, but moved to Texas, USA  when he was 2 years old when his father got a good job offer. hence why his name is Bjørn Syverson, though throughout this fic he just goes by Sy. It is mentioned that he has brothers which are August Walker, Walter Marshall, Sherlock Holmes and Clark Kent, all were separated from birth, but after the death of Sy's parents, he united with them. hopefully in future fics, i can delve more into their backstory. :)

Readers ethnicity and body type isn't mentioned as i want everyone to feel included, just that she is European.

For a few passing seconds, you’re frozen with fear. It was drilled into you at a young age that a feral alpha in rut were dangerous. That you should never let yourself be alone with one, in case the unthinkable happened. But this isn’t just some feral alpha, this is Sy, who takes care of you with a gentleness you never thought you would get, a gentleness you never thought anyone could posses, let alone a feral alpha.

Feral alphas weren’t rare, but they weren’t exactly common either. Feralness mostly only occurs in male Alphas that have experienced traumatic events in their life, mostly veterans. And unfortunately governments are unable to equip the right tools to help these men. Since WW2 they have become more and more common, but scientists are never able to find the right cure and treatments to help them.

They say the only thing that would reduce the symptoms are compatible omegas, preferably mated. betas can too, but not to the extent omegas can. Eventually they end up going rogue if they are apart of a pack, if not, well they distance themselves from society, they seek out to the wilderness where they can be in their true form.

Now with Sy, being a veteran and POW, made him more prone to go feral. When he was saved from an old unit he was apart of, he began his recovery in a hospital for vets and feral alphas.

Things weren’t easy in the beginning, losing a leg and not having his own independence put him on edge all the time, but once he got released, he didn’t hesitate to move to the mountains in Canada. An old army buddy and alpha mate to his brothers, Logan, owned a couple of cabins and lent one to him. His brothers were against it, continually reminding him that their pack could take care of him and his needs. They didn’t mind Sy being with their mates, but it wasn’t them he didn’t trust, it was himself.

Sy would hate himself for evermore if he hurt them, he didn’t want to risk it. When Sy moved to the small cabin, he noticed he had a neighbor not so far away. He avoided you as much as possible in the beginning, but over time he started chatting with you, walking past each other on morning runs with their dogs, and in the end they became friends.

He learned that you moved out here because you wanted to start over. You had a difficult childhood from losing your mother to cancer and moving to a foreign country not knowing anyone nor the language. And when you thought your life was getting a better hold of itself, everything came crumbling down when you were kidnapped and taken into human trafficking.

It took 4 years before you were free from The Red Room. A place where they would experiment on Omegas. You spent a year in a mental hospital for omegas to recover. You were alone with no friends and family. You were in a state of depression and hopelessness. You wanted to get away from everything, so you discovered an ad of cabins for sale in Canada and set foot.

That was now 2 years ago, and don’t regret your decision for a second. You both took solace in each other, having similar experiences made the connection between you even stronger. It was nice having someone that wouldn’t tiptoe around you or took pity in you.

It was hard getting close to Sy in the beginning. Some days he was more closed off than others, but you understood it, and remained patient. Over time friendly feelings turned into romantic and you knew that Sy would never hurt you and had to remind him that occasionally.

His brothers came for a visit one time to give him a talking, convincing him to let himself feel love for once.

—

“Sy?” You whisper, trying to shift in his arms once more. The scent of leather and wet forest reeked throughout the room, has slick already wetting your underwear, far more than you’re used to, and you know straight away hes gone into rut. You’ve never shared your heat with anyone before. The idea of being so vulnerable around another person always filled you with dread especially after what happened, but even with the looming rut of the Alpha that holds you in his strong arms, all you can feel is a sense of belonging.

“Alpha, wake up.”

Despite your soft tone, Sy wakes with a harsh gasp and digs his fingers into your soft flesh on instinct like he’s trying to drag you impossibly closer to him. A surprised moan falls from his lips as he grinds up against your ass. “Oh, god -”

“Shh, it’s okay, Alpha.” You coo, reaching back to carefully run your fingers through his shaved head. “It’s okay, I’m here.” “Fuck, ya’ smell so good…” Sy groans at your scent of sweet ripe peaches and you give a discontented cry at the idea of not getting to help your Alpha through his rut. “If I continue, I won’t be able to stop ‘mega.” He growls. “I don’t want you to stop,” You whine, carefully pressing back against him. There’s nothing more to Bjørn Syverson than his careful, shielded control over his instincts, and as much as you love that about him, you want nothing more than for him to let go and pound you mercifully into your bed. “Let me take care of you, Alpha. Please?” “I could claim you.” He grits out, his words and actions stark contrasts of each other as he keeps rolling his hips in sharp movements. “I-I can’t take that choice from you, sweet ‘mega.” “This is my choice, you’re my choice.” You’ve never heard yourself sound so sincere and desperate at the same time, but you can feel the tightening need curling low in your belly. His scent is singing through your veins, lighting up your inner Omega in a way you’ve never felt. “I’ve never wanted anyone before you, but this… this is right." You’re on your back before you can even blink, Sy’s strong hands pinning you beneath him. The expectation was for him to rush into a devastating kiss but he sat back slightly and simply… looked at you. He studies your face intently, looking at your beautiful reddened cheeks splattered with freckles and the odd spots from your unbalance hormones, an issue that has been bugging you for the past few weeks. He watches as your hips grind up in search of relief. When he finally leans down, you try to meet him halfway but he dodges your kiss to bury his face in your neck. A groan vibrates through his chest and into yours as he inhales deeply, and you happily curl your fingers in his hair to hold him there. “Oh, honey…” Sy kisses your pulse and nuzzles against you, his beard the perfect rough contrast to the soft press of his lips. “You goin’ into heat, ‘mega? Just needed you’re Alpha, didn’t ya?” “Yes, please!” You beg, your nails clawing his head, dragging him down to slot your lips with his in a sloppy kiss. Every touch, every hint of his scent, every breathy groan that came from his lips makes that warmth spread through your entire body. Sy kisses you eagerly, caging you underneath him. He feels impossibly bigger above you and your inner Omega blooms with comfort and love. So you let yourself revel in it, no longer fighting off the instincts that beckon for you. Sy almost yelps in surprise when your thighs hook around his waist to drag him down closer but he follows your lead happily and goes to grind his clothed cock against you - just like you were expecting. Mischief soars through your chest as you twist and grapple until he’s underneath you, your mind egging you to make him prove his strength. A flash of concern darts through those pretty blue eyes of his, as if he’s worried you’ve suddenly changed your mind, but the sight of your playful grin just makes him smile in return. He lets you grab at him for a moment, barely bothering to bat your hands away as you try - and fail - to pin his arms at his sides. Amusement rolls through him. Oh, his sweet, fierce Omega. If you want him to show you his true worth as your Alpha, he’s going to deliver. Sy grabs you by your waist and drags you beneath him once more, a low growl ripping through his lips as you erupt into excited laughter. Both of your wrists are secured in one of his hands where he pins them to the mattress above your head and you feel so… helpless. The man above you is the picture of Alpha - chest heaving with every breath, eyes wild with need yet perfectly in control, gray briefs tented with his impressive thick length. He exudes power and you can’t get enough. “Gonna be good for me, Omega?” Sy rumbles. “Yes! So good, I promise.” You’re on the verge of begging, but before the honeyed words can drip from your lips, Sy quickly and carefully strips your pajamas from your body before ripping his off as well. There’s no stopping the garbled groan you give at the sight he makes above you. With your newly freed hands, you let your fingers trail down his hairy chest and stomach, watching enraptured as goosebumps follow your touch. “Good girl,” He guides your hand to his thick engorged cock and rolls his hips to thrust into your fist, not bothering to hide the way he practically purrs. You can see the bright intensity that burns through his entire being in each clench of his jaw and ripple of his muscles. He’s holding back, though, tempering his movements like he’s afraid he’ll scare you. Feral alphas don’t have a good reputation, they have little control over themselves. They take what they want, leaving nothing behind. But you trust Sy, and you don’t trust easily, especially with alphas, but Sy is different. You watch him as he slowly climbs down your body, his lips never leaving your skin as he trails his hot kisses on you all the way down. He parts your legs further so he could get more comfortable between them, then when he presses a kiss at your nether lips, his fingers parting your folds so he could find your slick entrance and give a long, hungry lick right at where your desire is centered until you cry out. “Taste so fucking sweet ‘mega”. Sy growls as he licks your clit.

“So fucking hot, Darlin’.” Sy growls. “Been wanting to taste this sweet pussy since the day I met ya’. Kept holding myself back for so long, but not anymore ‘mega.” He said looking up at you.

You moan at the intensity of his words. “Yes!, please alpha don’t stop” you desperately beg him. Sy doesn’t waste any more time and goes down on you once again. His whole body is stretched out, his feet planted on the floor to hold himself in his position. You have never seen anything more beautiful.

You hear him moan and you open your eyes to look down at him, to see that his eyes are closed, totally blissed out as he sucks on your cunt, licking your entrance as if it’s the last meal he eats. You feel the hard tips of Sy’s fingers right at your opening, you moan when you feel two fingers parting your hot pussy, your walls instantly begin spasming around them, sucking them inside your depth.

He continues to tease you with his fingers for a few more seconds and then the warm rasp of his tongue sends a series of shivers trembling through your body. He licks across your sensitive bud leisurely, biding his time with his eyes on you to take in every single reaction you are giving him through every lick, every swirl of his tongue. He flicks his tongue from around your clit, down to your slit, moving back and forth as he continues to plunge his fingers into you. You begin to shake as you are nearing the edge. He must have felt it, because he continues to lick at your cunt, slick pouring out as he slurps it all up, growls deeply against your pussy. “Come for me, little ‘mega” You let out a whimper at his command but feel helpless to resist him. You can’t hold it in anymore as you come to your release. “Alpha!”. You moan out as you arch your back, Sy continues to milk through your orgasm and makes sure to gather every drop of cum.

It took a few minutes to come down from your intense orgasm. Sy moves up pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and down to your neck. “You did so good for me, Honey.” He praises as you. “Mmmm” you hum, keening to the praises.

After a few more moments, you’re a whimpering mess again, grinding your clit against Sy’s muscular thigh. Sy growls as he pulls back, “Alpha,” You whisper, cupping his jaw gently to get him to meet your eyes and drawing him close for one last soft kiss before you guide him to scent your neck. The pheromones that pour off of you has his breath stuttering. “Don’t hold back.” A desperate growl fills the air as Sy manhandles you onto your hands and knees, He doesn’t even have to say the words before you’re already presenting yourself for him, your back arching with your face buried in the sheets, and two big hands settle on your thighs to spread you out even more for him with your ass and pussy on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now. “Oh, pretty girl…” Sy groans, trailing his fingers along your slick cunt and smirking at the way you chase his touch with a needy whine. Two thick fingers tease your entrance in slow circles before sinking into you to the knuckle and Sy chuckled darkly as you writhed beneath him. “Gonna feel perfect ‘round my cock, aren’tcha?” “Pl-ease,” You stutter out and Sy seems to take pity in the desperation your voice holds for him. He hushes the disappointed sound you give at the loss of his fingers, his hands massaging at your hips soothingly. The scent of your heat and his rut permeate the air and curl around each other until they’re one, a combination of you both hanging in the air with a sense of finality. Of destiny. Sy knew he was right where he belonged, where he was always supposed to be. He just had to reach out and take it. Twin groans fall from you both when he finally presses his cock against you, only pausing a moment before pushing into you in one long, slow thrust. Fuck, you knew he was big, could tell by the way he fit in your hand alone that it would be a stretch to fit him inside of you, but you didn’t expect… this. To feel so full, like you could feel him in your stomach. Instinct has you arching further into him, enticing him to move, to fuck you quick and hard. A warm hand settles at the nape of your neck and squeezes, holding you firmly to the bed, and your body and mind both melt into a submissive haze. If the authority that he holds in that one simple movement wasn’t enough to have you following his every command, his words that follow definitely would’ve. “Stay still, little Omega.” He growls out, his chest plastered to your back as he settles his large frame over you. The sharp nip of his teeth against your shoulder makes you shudder. “I’ll give you what you need, don’t you worry. Gonna knot this pretty pussy, make you mine.” Sy fucks you just like that - towering over you with his hand clamped on your neck, kissing and licking and biting his fill of your soft skin. You were expecting him to fuck you rough and fast right from the jump, but his first thrusts are slow and precise, and it takes a moment for your heat crazed mind to realize he’s savoring this. He’s taking the time to memorize how your cunt feels around him while he still can, before his rut fully takes him from his careful and calculating self to a pussy-drunk and needy Alpha that wants nothing more than his sweet Omega underneath him. Slapping sounds fill the room as he quickens the pace, your slick coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. You can feel his heavy balls slapping against your pussy, you let out pornographic moans and he continues to force your face into the bed by your neck. You’ve always wanted this, craved it ever since you were a hormonal teen, just wanting to be taken apart by a strong alpha. his fingers find your clit. A groan falls from his lips at the way your cunt flutters around him at his stimulation and you feel the first signs of his control crumbling in the way he thrusts into you sharply. “Alpha,” You whine, your voice low and pleading so very softly for him. “Please, I need you, need your knot -” The world falls out from under you as Sy pulls out suddenly, the exact opposite of what you were searching for, but you can’t voice your disdain before you’re on your back, blinking surprised up at a wild feral looking Sy. He doesn’t waste time slamming back inside you, fucking you hard without warning. “Perfect fuckin’ Omega,” Sy spits out like he’s enraged, but you keen beneath him nonetheless, pressing your legs to your chest as pleasure sparks across your skin. “Lettin’ me fill you up, takin’ me just like your s’posed to.” He growls, making you succumb deeper to a submissive state, making it known to Sy he can do whatever he wants, your body is his. Sy bends down sucking on one of your nipples, you moan as even more pleasure fills your body from the sensitivity of your nipples. You look down, watching as his fat cock thrusts in and out of you, his pubic hair getting wet from your slick. His balls tightening with each thrust. Thoughts of him rubbing his balls over your face fills your mind, but was quickly interrupted as Sy slightly changes the position. He holds your body closer, your tits pressed against his sweaty hairy chest. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know he’s not ready to let up just yet, but you’re too on edge to hold on. “Sy, I-I’m gonna–” “I can smell it,” he groans, mouth your neck just above where your bond mark would be as he sucks harshly on it.  A string of cuss words falls from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements don’t slow either – his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate. His hand grips your jaw suddenly, not enough to hurt but enough to get your attention through the haziness overtaking your mind. “Gimme those eyes, thaaaat’s it… you love this, don’tcha? All cock drunk and pretty for me, huh?” The praise washes over you like a salve to your aches and you open your mouth when his thumb drifts over your bottom lip, watching the way his eyes darken as you lick the tip of his thumb. Sy eagerly lets you draw it between your lips, even sliding it in and out like he would if he were fucking your mouth, and he lets out a low, “ah, fuck,” You can feel the flare of his growing knot catching with his every thrust. “Cum for me again, Omega,” His voice carries the undeniable thread of Alpha dominance, a command that cannot be denied even if you wanted to. Your body shakes beneath him as his fingers threaten to send you directly into over-stimulation, unable to keep your eyes open under the fire of pleasure blazing through your body. Sy’s face falls to your neck where your head is thrown back into the pillows and he greedily takes in your pleasure-drenched scent. “That’s my good girl, so fuckin’ good for me. Fuck.” “Sy,” You whimper his name so sweetly as you tangle your fingers in his hair and it sends him over the edge into a devastating orgasm. His growl is more animal than man as his knot locks him inside of you. He buries his head and finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his sharp teeth sink into your skin, claiming you as his. Screams blow past your lips, your chest tightens in pain, loving and hating the sensation all at once. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood. “That’s it ‘mega. Doing so good for me. So perfect for your Alpha.” Your heart flutters at his claim, have never felt as close to anyone as you do right now. You start to get overwhelmed with emotion as tears begin to fill, the connection between you and Sy binding stronger than ever and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like you were floating in thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now. Sy sucks the bond mark, easing the pain. “C’mon, ‘mega, bite me. Gotta mark me, too, Darlin’, c’mon,” He urges and for a moment you think your muddled mind is making you hallucinate. It isn’t exactly unheard of, an Alpha accepting their Omega’s mark, but it isn’t common, either. An alpha accepting a bite mark showcases an alpha submission and devotion to their omega. Your heart flutters in your chest as you lean up to kiss his neck before giving him a matching mark, right above his collarbone. Sy lets his mind run on that primal instinct of cleaning and caring for his mate, carefully licking the mark he left seared into your skin. It takes a moment’s shuffling, but Sy shifts until he’s got you settled on his chest to wait out his knot. It’s endearing, the way his hands rub up and down your bare back soothingly. His balloon size knot spurting out warm cum inside of you, you moan at the sensation and Sy growls lightly. Soft kisses slowly turned into licks, you were a little confused “what are you doing?” “Cleaning you up,” he answers calmly, his even more heightened senses finding nothing strange with this method of aftercare. You’re too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his alpha side was telling him to do then so be it. It goes on like that for a few days. In between the desperate bouts of fucking and sucking, Sy insists you let him feed you. Little bites of fruits and the protein rich heat snacks you kept around for this very scenario, held up to your lips by your insistent Alpha. The one time you tried to sneak from your bed while he slept ended with you fucked and knotted over the kitchen island. And even though it was a slightly uncomfortable position to be stuck in… It’s everything you want, everything you’ve ever wanted without even realizing it.

Albert x reader dubcon pls :)))))

Albert James Moriarty

╰┈➤tw: dub-con, sub bottom male reader, kidnapping.

"Sherlock, you really have to focus on getting rid of *them*!", you say, a bit irritated due to how distracted he has been these past couple of months, it was all because of this one individual, William James Moriarty, an interesting fellow, although you have done your homework on him and his brothers, you weren't able to discover anything weird about them other than the fact they all made it out of a burning mansion with each other and nobody else, odd but not odd enough to tip you off. "I am! Just let me figure this out...And you're one to talk when you're always distracted by the brunette anyways", he says, not even turning around to face you, you were offended but couldnt deny the fact you've been interested in Albert but you've always focused on finding the brothers unlike Sherlock who has been focusing so much time on reading the newspapers about the crime lord or whatever, you understand it's important but not as important as the Moriartys quite literally sending a letter addressing the both of you, "Sherlock Holmes, we need to go", you say sternly, grabbing your coat and heading out in the dead of night, knowing Sherlock would follow you sooner or later.

Walking down the streets of London, you could hear the crawing of crows, really odd, they never craw unless there's danger-

Just as you were thinking about it, a dark figure runs past the alleyway beside you, you pause, realizing you should have never came out at might, especially not alone, you tried to brush it off, showing no fear as you walked back to the apartment, just as you were about to arrive safely, someone grabs you from behind, "Hey!-", "shh, be quiet if you will", the very much familiar voice hushes you, you try to remember whose voice it belongs to but fail to remember and just remain quiet. After a couple minutes of just standing there quietly, not making a sound, not that you could make much, the hand covering your mouth would muffle any sound you would make - the mysterious voice lets go of you, setting you free, you turn to look at the person and found a pair of green eyes staring back at you, "My apologies Mr L/n for having to cover your mouth like that, we couldn't have you screaming", "we?", just as you asked the question, you black out, probably due to the drug that was on Albert's gloves.

When you awoke, you were in a luxurious room, definitely more luxurious than what you could ever afford. You examined the room, still processing what had just happened and also trying to figure out whose manor you were in, it wasn't too hard to figure out it was the Moriarty's due to Albert being the last person you saw before passing out cold. You get up and walk around, examining things closer, of course you checked the windows first, removing the curtains and seeing if you could escape, unfortunately the windows are barred up in a way you wouldn't be able to escape even if you tried. You then checked the desk across from the bed, an ink pen, a few papers and also a candle were placed neatly ontop of said desk, making it look clean, 'this room is extravagant...', you thought to yourself, almost forgetting the fact that you were kidnapped, you shook your head and regained your composure, a knock on the door catches your attention as you quickly ran to the bed, pretending to still be asleep and hoping whoever walks in won't realize. "Hm?", a man's voice is heard, footsteps slowly walking beside the bed, "still asleep..?", he whispers to himself and not a moment later, footsteps are walking further and further away from you and the door is shut. As you thought you were in the clear, you opened your eyes, getting up, only to see Albert still standing in the room, a smile on his face as he notices your 'now awake' figure, "good evening Mr L/n", his smile stays the same as his head tilts a bit towards the left.

5 days have passed since you first arrived at the manor, the food has been exceptionally good, everything was set up in a way you could still enjoy yourself despite being kidnapped. It was now night time, you were reading a book and writing down some important things to do after you get out as Albert sits beside you, much of his attention is towards you. Suddenly, you hear someone entering the manor, as they speak, you can hear that it's clearly Sherlock, it seems Albert also heard as he is nervously fidgeting his fingers, "Y/n, forgive me", was all he says before grabbing your wrist, smudging your hand writing and pushes you onto the bed, "Albert?", you say in a confusing voice, why would he even push you onto the bed? "Do cooperate", he says before suddenly attacking your neck, licking it before biting down, "ACK!?", you try pushing him off but he's too strong, "shh", he says, still leaning on your neck, his nose brushing up against your neck gets you flustered, "Albert..! stop this!", you try to yell at him but his hand covers your mouth, muffling any sound from you, you eventually give up trying to fight back, hearing voices getting near the room, you try your best to stay quiet as Albert continues to mark your neck, "I heard some voices from here", "that was probably your imagination, please take your business downstairs, it is very impolite to barge into someone's room", you hear the voices of Sherlock and William, they seem to be fighting even if they're not raising their voices. The handle shakes, making your heart drop for a second but then you realized it's locked and the footsteps start fading into the distance. Albert finally looks at you, "did that scare you?", not knowing how to put it into words, you simply nod. Thinking this was over, you tried getting up, only to be blocked by Albert's body, his hand grabbing your wrist as you try to hit him, "my apologies but you're simply too delectable", was all he said before pushing you down yet again, undoing his tie with a smirk on his face.

"O-oh, good evening!", you stutter and blush a bit, embarrassed as you were caught in the act. Albert walks towards the bed, sitting on the bed and he apologizes, "I am very sorry to have to inconvenience you, I'm sure you and Mr Holmes have figured it out by now that...", he lets you finish the sentence, "that the Moriartys are the ones behind the lord of crime", "precisely", "that still doesn't explain why you kidnapped me all of a sudden", you demanded an answer, why would they keep YOU locked up and not Sherlock?, "It's obvious Mr Holmes cares for you but it's also obvious he'll do anything to stop my brother from doing the ultimate sacrifice, we need you to be a distraction as we can't allow our plan to be ruined", "so I'm a hostage?", "emm, if you put it like that..", he smiles nervously, not knowing what to say as you have figured out what he was trying to sugarcoat, "how long will i be held hostage?", "until the plan succeeds, at least a week and a half", "alright, you won't harm him in any way, right?", you ask with an intimidating expression, enough to make Albert a little more nervous, "we won't", "alright then, i'm okay with this, if you keep your promise".

With him being stronger, you had a hard time resisting against his lust but you would be lying if you said you didnt enjoy it even a bit, "A-Albert stop", "I'm sorry but i don't think i'll be able to, darling", as that nickname left his mouth, you melted a bit, the way he said it was full of lust, so inviting. The two of you were now so lost in lust, you couldn't even think anymore, did you want this? You had no answer to that question, too lost in the moment, "Y/n...please cry my name", he says just as he enters you, making you scream a bit, it was so sudden, you never even realized he had prepared you with his fingers just a few moments ago, your mind was just blank, "Albert..stop, stop this!", you cried out, you still took him so well, your hole just so tight around his cock, he couldn't stop even if he wanted to, your hole was inviting him, your cock dribbling with pre-cum, "please..", you continue to moan, not caring if others could hear your noises, this felt so wrong, having sex with your kidnapper, with the man involved in a string of murders and disappearances.

His voice was angelic, even if he was a demon right now, his moans were delicate, his groans were turning you on more than you'd like to admit, "It'll be okay, we'll be together", is the only thing he says before pumping your hole full of his cum, with just a few more thrusts, you also came, your chest full of cum and so was your hole, "A-Albert...", was all you said, you start to feel a bit light headed, Albert was there to support you, he pulls out and watches his cum seeping out of your hole, you were so full of his seed, "I'll show you so much more, stay with me Y/n".

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Taglist: @secretivemessenger @jkloserdazai @devilswhore-emrys

Been so busy these past few days, i keep saying i'm busy but it's true i promise😭 my s/o's birthday was a few days ago and i prepared so many stuff i felt like i would pass out

Kinktober ‘22 - Day 3

Day 3 - Free Use with Dark!Librarian!Steve Rogers

Pairing: Dark!Librarian!Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Word count: 611

Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ only): noncon/dubcon, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap peeps) implied kidnapping, implied confinement.

Disclaimer: Please heed the warnings - if this makes you uncomfortable then click away. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with it are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.

A/N: Day 3 Here we are! Divider by @firefly-graphics.

Kinktober ‘22 Masterlist / Librarian!Steve Rogers Masterlist

It was everything you’d ever read about: lilies and foxgloves akin to the ones mentioned in The Secret Garden hanging just outside the back door; siding and layout reminiscent of the March family home; and a private library even Sherlock Holmes himself would have had trouble not being envious of.

It was suppose to be a dream - specifically your dream - come true, except for the fact that it couldn’t be anything further from that. Instead, it's a nightmare born from a pure, lust-filled delusion, with you and your reading log being the prime sources of inspiration.

He finds you in the kitchen this time, the man who wishes for you to call him darling, honey, Stevie my love. You’ve been drying dishes for so long the tea towel begins to wear thin, the blue material repeating the same circular motion again and again. When he comes closer you move to the island, tucking the exceedingly clean cutlery away. You don’t acknowledge him.

His breath is hot against your neck and the pressing of his chest to your back sends shivers up your spine. “I got you something from your wish list, Bookworm.”

There’s a dense thud as a freshly printed copy of The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea is dropped beside you, narrowly missing your hand. It takes everything in you not to tense up at the sound.

You feel a tightening at the back of your neck, the grip firm and slightly calloused as the man who once made you smiley warmly with his wonderful book recommendations now pushes your face towards the cool marbled countertop, his other fingers slipping underneath your pleated skirt - one of many he makes you wear for his viewing pleasure - to tug your panties down. You can only try to ignore how they stick for a moment before he finishes pulling them to the ground.

Steve holds no such pretence, scoffing at the sight, “I knew you needed to thank me like this, just like how you knew I needed to come home to you and this sweet pussy you used to try to hide from me.”

You nod your false agreement. Attempting to fight it isn’t worth what could happen next instead of what usually follows. Unfortunately, you learned the hard way that Steven Rogers - once the world's sweetest librarian - is a hardened veteran who has yet to forget anything he’s learned during his military career. The basement door is locked to soothe you - the night terrors you experienced after the first and only sign of guilt you’ve ever seen your captor display.

When the head of his cock pushes past your wet folds there’s a collective sigh from you both, yours damningly headier than his. Your eyes unfocus for a few seconds, your gaze drifting briefly to the petal-filled backyard before his steady thrusts ground you permanently. Sometimes you wish he’d fuck you there just so you can feel the sun on your skin, feel like more than a part to play in the story of you and him.

Fingertips dig into the meat of your ass as he fucks into you without a care in the world. You hate it when he treats you like you’re special to him. Your disgust is momentary as his lips kiss promises into your skin, your neck being slowly covered with teeth marks and precious nothings. Involuntarily your hips push back and seek your pleasure for you.

You hate how you hate it less and less. 

Steve's thrusts grow more frenetic. "Good thing you know better now. My fantasy is your fantasy, Bookworm. And that'll never fucking change."

For - uhm- research reasons: Freya, do you have some story recs with really sexy descriptions of blow jobs?

Sure, love, I wrote a bunch of those, I hope it will help with the research 🍭🍭🍭

🍭Henry RPF

Level Up - Henry Cavill x Reader (Oral sex performed on a man, swallowing, somewhat of a Sub!Henry)  Giving Henry a blow job while he plays WoW

Crooked Bowtie - Henry x Reader (Smut, blowjob, gagging, semi-public) You are teasing Henry in VIP gala, yet again. He ought to drag you aside and take care of this little predicament.

As I was saying - Henry x Reader (fluff to smut, early pregnancy, blow job, bodily fluids, slight FemDom/SubMale, cottagecore!) You recently found out that you’re pregnant and Henry is being all sorts of over-protective and annoying about it and won’t shut up about what you should or shouldn’t eat. So you find a creative way to shut him up… 

Pretty when you Cry - Henry x OFC ( MaleDom, oral, breeding) Henry can be overprotective and asked his lady several times not to do her own dangerous stunts while filming. But she chooses to defy him and that’s gonna cost her.

More under the cut

69 works just fine - Henry x Reader ( oral sex, both ways oral sex, 69, need I say more? Graphic description of sex and bodily fluids, soft daddy kink, light brat/daddy dynamic. )  You challenge Henry about the infamous 69 Position and he is keen on showing you how very wrong you are.

Keep your eyes open - Henry x Reader (smut  Dom/Sub, mutual masturbation, facial, bodily fluids all over, mention of oral performed on a man.)  Henry makes you touch yourself while having you on a spreader.

🍭Captain Syverson

Set me Free - Syverson x Reader ( Explicit Smut, Male Sub / FemDom, bondage, sex toys, oral performed on a male and a female, face-sitting, power play, teasing, unprotected sex, bodily fluids.) Part Two to Let Me In - After a night of being an asshole, getting drunk and then falling asleep when you were just finally getting into the mood. The Captain wakes up finding himself in somewhat of a pickle.

Waking up the beast - Syverson x Reader (Smut, blowjob) You decide to wake the captain up with a special treat

The Beast - Smut | First blow job with Sy 🎃

Salt & Iron - Syverson x OFC (Smut, intercourse, 69, mutual oral) PWP - mindless fucking in the Captain quarter.  Senses challenge - Taste.

🍭Walter Marshall

Night Lessons - Walter x Virgin Reader (corruption kink, face-fucking, gagging, blow job, cock-warming, deflowering, orgasm denial, maleDom, jealousy) 🎃 NEW 🎃 Walter decides to teach your innocent self how to use his huge weapon.

🍭August Walker

Violent Delights - August Walker x Reader (Smut, facefucking, rough oral, depiction of bodily fluids, some eventual fluff, MaleDom/FemSub.) You will give August what he wants, you will let him fuck your pretty little mouth and come down your throat. His pleasure - is yours. 

Sweet & Spicey August x Reader  (Sub!August, oral, Smut + Fluff ) You get to pay August the favour and finally take control

🍭Sherlock Holmes

His Dominion - Sherlock x Reader -  smut, orgasm denial, fingering, virginity, MaleDom/FemSub, oral sex (man receiving), hinted kidnapping, bodily fluid. You would think a gentleman like Sherlock is a tender lover, but the brilliant detective is merely a wolf in a sheep’s clothing, and you happen to his favourite meal.  

Carriage Ride - Sherlock x Reader (Smut, oral sex - man receiving, mentions of spanking. )   Giving Sherlock a blow job during

Hi again! Oh yeah! I guess its request time then😂 (Also I love that gif😂) also right after I sent the first ask I had an idea for another Henry Sherlock x Peaky and I can't decide which to send so I'll send both separately and you can choose which one you like better! The original idea I had was for a Shelby sister Reader and the other is a Holmes sister Reader. But the first idea is this: 

What if another Shelby sister moves to London and ends up being Sherlock's neighbor but he ignores her at first (or pretends to) even when she becomes friends with Enola. Then one day a man looking for revenge against the Blinders breaks into her home and almost succeeds in kidnapping/killling her but suddenly Sherlock appears and saves her. Then right as he's helping patch her up like half of the Shelby Company Limited +Co show up because they got the call reader was threatened. And after that reader and Sherlock gee closer and like Ada and Enola are constantly working to set them up! And yeah that's the first idea I had if you were interested!❤️❤️

Hey Love,

This request is just - I'm not worthy. But I hope this makes you happy. I have three extra pieces that I'll try to post tonight. Thanks for sending this in, I'm having a lot of fun with it!

Warnings: Reader is assaulted, kissing, fluff,

EXTRAS: Little extra bits of the story that give more context. I figured they might make it too long but I'm still super attached to them.

Kissing - Additional Short about kissing

You looked around the sun bathed flat in amazement, a sound you could never recall rang in your ears. Silence. It was quiet and only the furniture was put in place. Aunt Pol and Ada insisted on staying with you for the first night, in your world that was a party so naturally, Esme was in toe with them when they showed up. You all listened to records and drank yourselves silly. Gin and dancing, laughing and gossiping, your heart was soaring high when you eventually fell asleep on a pile of cushions. 

However, in the morning, it was a different feeling entirely. You woke up first wondering how on earth you all could make a mess out of a practically unpacked apartment, but there it was. The anxiety from the booze started to hit you and laying still became impossible. Your stomach turned violently and your mind started to race with unwanted memories. Time to get busy, you groaned and got up for the day. 

You ran out to get some bread and eggs for breakfast. The street was brutally loud and you were grateful for the little shop as the door closed and the sound was muffled. Eggs and bread turned into a large and heavy paper bag full of all sorts of things. You managed it well enough till you got to the top of the front steps. You nestled the large paper bag in one arm and struggled to get your keys out of your coat pocket.  The door swung open suddenly and a very tall man glared down at you. The paper bag fell from your arm as the man's gaze held you. He was very tall and broad, looking down at you with a displeased face.

“So-” You stopped yourself and shook your head this was not your fault. You picked the bag up and tried to hold your head high while walking around the large man, something that would have been possible if his shoulders didn't take up the entire doorway. 

Your eyes rested on his collar bones that poked out of his nightshirt and you wondered how on earth someone could have shoulders so…. 

“221C?” His voice was deep and velvety and would have been very pleasing if he had sounded less grumpy. His crumpled hair and long sweeping robe made you wonder why he was going out at all. 

You turned your head to the side as you met his eyes again, a move you regretted instantly. 

“Normally people refer to me by my name.” You told him your name and reached out to shake his hand. He gave you a firm handshake and gave you another look over. 

“Last night was a terrible experience. My work requires a large amount of concentration and -” 

“Are you the new woman?” An overly cheery voice called out from behind the hulking man. He let out an exasperated sigh. A girl with long brown curly hair fought her way out of the doorway and bent down to grab a tin of coffee that had escaped in the fall. 

“Im Enola - Holmes! This is my brother” She looked between the two of you and registered her brother's deep glare “he’s hungover - completely ignore him.” She said with a beaming smile. She ushered you past him into the hallway and started chattering. Your head was pounding but you tried to follow along with what she was saying. 

“It sounded like a wild night, I don't think I’ve ever heard so much laughing.” She held onto your arm with the tin of coffee in the other hand and you felt weird being walked to your apartment by the girl. She must have been about 14 or so, something in her eagerness to speak with you made you feel she was lonely.

“You know I love parties, I know lots of jokes, and oh- do you run your own business. Your mail here has a company stamp with your last name. That’s really something, I’m excellent with numbers if you ever need accounting - not that you aren't good with numbers if you own your own business- ” 

“Enola” The man called from their door across the hall. 

“Sorry!” She gave you another big smile. 

“Do you want a cup of coffee or tea?” You don't know why you asked her, caffeine was the very last thing that girl needed. But her eyes were lonely and you remembered what it was like at that age. 

“No” 

“YES!” they answered at the same time. The man looked at you almost apologetically.

“She wouldn't be any trouble. My sisters are here with my aunt, ah tonight was sort of a one-off. Sorry about the noise and everything.” You fumbled and your face flushed. 

“No,” He said awkwardly. “ Not a problem I just - as long as it's not every night. I’m sure we can be just as loud.”  You gave him a nod and then opened the door to your apartment. 

“Behave Enola” He called out before stepping into his flat with his mail in hand. She made an exasperated face and rolled her eyes. 

_________________________________________________

You laughed as you came into the kitchen to see all three of them sat at the table in various positions that showed their hungover-ness. 

“Everyone this is my neighbor Enola.” Esme didn't lift her head from the wooden table but a groan of acknowledgment rang out from a mess of dark curly hair. 

Polly looked the girl over and lit a cigarette, then her eyes looked to you with a question. 

“She bumped into me in the hallway. Enola this is my Aunt Pol and my sisters Esme and Ada.” 

She gave them a wave and whispered a soft hello. Aunt Pol looked at her for a long while then gave a kind smile. 

“So you live across the hall then?” 

“Yes with my brother Sherlock Holmes - he’s a detective and I’m technically in training but I am taking clients,” Enola said proudly. 

Sherlock Holmes, you thought to yourself for a moment brain foggy as ever. The detective from the papers? You didn't know what to think of the information as you put the kettle on the stove.

“A detective eh?” Pol gave her a nod. “Do me a favor and keep an eye on this one for me?” 

“Sure thing. She can count on us.- You mentioned it’s just you living here now?” 

You nodded as you started to unpack a box of mugs. 

“I live in the neighborhood, but we are all from Birmingham,” Ada answered with a small smile. 

“Birmingham! Holy - I haven't been before but I read this article once -” And off she went quietly rattling on and on. You got some eggs, ham, toast, and coffee on the table. Pol took Enola’s mug and filled it with milk before she could grab some coffee. 

“It’s a dreadful habit dear. Have some milk.” She said knowing full well that she didn't need anything to wake her up. 

The morning passed into the afternoon and eventually, Esme raised her head and ate up her breakfast. They made Enola laugh loudly and you felt she fit in with your girl gang well enough. 

“You have a boyfriend then? How old are ya? Should call Finn over if not.” 

“No” You and Pol answered at the same time. Finn was a good 3 years older than her and the last thing you wanted was her caught up in whatever he was working on these days. 

“He’s my litter brother but he’s a hell of a troublemaker and a good few years too old for you.” You gave Esme a look and she shrugged. 

“I do as it turns out. Well - Erm - don’t mention that to my brother if you don't mind?”  You gave her a big smile. 

“Secret is safe with me.” 

“As long as we get to meet him of course,” Ada added sensibly. 

Soon enough the day passed by and you were left with a messy apartment to clean and many boxes to unpack. You said your goodbyes and enjoyed watching Enola light up as the women hugged her goodbye, with promises of saying hello the next time they came over to stay. 

You closed the door and looked at the girl who jumped slightly.

“You probably want me to leave - sorry!” She looked flustered.

“Stay or go, I’m going to do some unpacking then start on dinner. You are welcome to stay if you like” 

Enola took that invitation as a welcome to come over whenever she pleased. You thought it would start to bother you, but coming from such a big and loud family you found it comforting. 

You watched her interactions with her brother closely the few times you happened to run into him. They would fight over all sorts of things and you weren't happy about it. It was one thing to argue with family but he was an adult and she, whether her family liked it or not, was still just a girl. 

“Love, what happened to your parents?” You asked on a spring evening when you were both absorbed in books. They had been shouting at each other all morning and the question was burning a hole in your mind. 

“Ah, do I annoy you?” She asked in a voice you rarely ever heard her use. 

“No, you and Sherlock argue often I just - It’s none of my business but I -.” 

“We argue a lot because we're both too smart.” She sighed like it was a heavy burden. “We see equally important things, but different things when we assess situations and whatnot. He hates it when I get involved in his cases, hates it even more when I’m right but deep down I know he doesn't mind all that much.” 

You thought about her words and she let out another deep sigh. 

“My mum felt it was her time to be on her own again, my father died ages ago. My other brother Mycroft - he’s a real twat. Tried to put me in finishing school - but you know about that from my first case.” 

You gave a nod remembering the story. “Your mum felt you were okay to be on your own?” You looked at the girl and shuddered. London was a big city, and she was incredibly smart but she was still obviously more of a girl than a woman. 

“Yep,” She said it firmly like she was trying to be proud but there was a sadness etched into her posture that you couldn't unsee. You thought of your own mother and something sank in your stomach. 

“Well, I think you are entirely too much fun to be left alone. The world is big and lonely. Better to stick together with those who are worthy.” You said watching her face light up slightly. “Aunt Pol was calling to see if I’d met your fella by the way.” Pol had not mentioned it in her phone calls, but you said it anyway to make her feel like she was a part of things. She beamed. 

“I’ll take you and Ada to see him.” 

“Excellent. Baking cookies tomorrow, if you want to help?” she gave you a big smile. 

“Despite my extensive knowledge of chemistry, I’m awful at baking.” 

“Eh, you just need to learn.” You shrugged. “One more chapter then we best be off to bed.” A lie that was told frequently in your house. You both read until the wee hours of the morning, multiple cups of peppermint tea made and drank. 

You jumped out of your chair when a hand lightly nudged your shoulder. Out of instinct, you threw the book at the man. Sherlock was there and Enola was happily asleep on the couch open book resting on her chest. 

“Sorry!” You whispered. Sherlock only picked up the book you were reading and then gave you a long look. A thick flush covered your face as you accepted the book back from him. He always made you feel embarrassed and with both of them having all that fancy pants knowledge you really wished he would have caught you reading something of substance. 

“Erm-I” You fumbled. “What time is it?”

“Round six,” He said, still staring at you intensely. 

“Ah, sorry I told her one more chapter - “ You looked at the stack of books “Two books ago - Sorry” 

“It’s alright. I should be the one to apologize. Thanks for spending time with her. If it’s too much-” 

“She’s not a problem.” You said with a finality that showed too much emotion. “I - things are complicated with your family - I only know because I also come from a complex family. But really she’s not a burden or someone that’s better left behind.” 

Sherlock gave you a strange look and you found it impossible to look away from his deep blue eyes. 

“Complicated is a good way of describing it.” He looked around your apartment and you felt extremely uncomfortable. “She’s going to be smarter than all of us soon enough though, I guarantee you she won't be forgotten.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll make it into the public’s eye sooner or later. I’m referring to your mother leaving her-” 

“I won’t,” He said firmly and with his full attention turned to you. “Our mother had her own business to attend to, but I assure you Enola is safe with me.” His eyes held you in place and you hated how he made you feel like he could see everything that you were thinking and feeling. 

“You shouldn't shout at her so much.” The words toppled from your mouth as you held his stare. This made the corner of his mouth stand up slightly. He looked like he was debating whether he wanted to start an argument with you or not. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He kept looking at you and you were surprised at his response. You knew deep down Enola’s situation reminded you of yourself a great deal. Mother gone, and many fights with Thomas, but you had Pol to back you up, and the rest of them looking out for you all the time. 

“Here - she can stay the night no point in moving her.” You got up and grabbed the thick blanket you left on the edge of the sofa for her. You expected him to already be out the door. He often abruptly ended conversations that is if he didn't ignore you completely. 

“Why are you in London?” His voice made you jump. 

“Wanted some space from the family.” 

“Your sister lives here and your Aunt calls frequently? Space from your family or from your brother?” 

“What do you know about my brother?” The hair on the back of your neck shot up. 

“He gives my bother a hard time in Parliament. Really his arch rival of sorts.” Sherlock said and you wondered if he had been drinking. 

“That pleases you?” You smiled at his unusual expression. 

“Very much so. Although I know you lot had to struggle to get to where you are now.” His voice was back to its usual neat grumpy tone. “I don’t think it's a lifestyle you engage in?” He looked around your colorful apartment again.

“No. It’s not.” You said hoping he believed you. Sure you had gotten into your fair share of grim situations but the company had been legal for a long while now. 

“Good.” He cocked his head towards you and his tone was light again. Something deep inside you wanted to do just about anything to keep his attention on you. With a small smile, he made his way out of your apparent closing the door softly. 

____

Enola was gone to stay with her mother for the night. You knew that something inside you had run over the boundaries of a friend or neighbor when you lay in bed tossing and turning. You knew she was perfectly capable of protecting herself and it really wasn't your place, but something in your mind wouldn't rest. 

Ada had gone back home to stay with Pol for a while, no one was answering the phone today. Now that you thought about it that was probably the main reason you felt worried. You thought about walking across the hall to see if Sherlock wanted help with whatever he was working on. 

In the last case, Enola insisted on your help as all the clues were in Romani. This was probably a normal case that would be over your head but maybe he’d have you for tea anyway. You sighed and got out of bed grabbing your thick robe and wrapping it around yourself. 

Opening your bedroom door you looked across the small flat and could see that the front door was open. Your first instinct was to move back into the bedroom but dark eyes fell on you before you could move. 

“Just come with us quietly love, no fighting” two men made their way towards you. Your fingers wrapped around the poker for the fire and you made careful notes of their appearance before the fighting started. 

You thought about the bedroom window behind you but the drop would guarantee your death. The front door was the only option. You held the iron poker in your grip tightly then the most sensible idea floated into your mind. If fighting didn't go as planned you were sure that screaming your head off would alert someone in the building. 

The two men came towards you and you got the first one across the side of the face before jabbing him in the eye. The second man proved harder to smack no matter how determined you were. Eventually, he got the upper hand and a hard smack landed across your face. You took a deep inhale but his hand closed around your neck before you could scream. You tried to scratch and hit his face but your arms became too heavy before any substantial damage was done. 

Your vision went hazy just as the man let out a loud cry. His hand released you and you watched a hulking figure pull screams from his body. Blood was spilled before the beast made his way toward you. 

You tried to move away unsure of anything, still unable to see or hear properly. Big arms gathered you up and lifted you into the air. 

“Calm down.” His voice was rough and you wondered how your body could switch from so panicked to letting go entirely. 

He carried you across the hall and into his flat. It was the complete opposite color scheme but just as cluttered with books. He placed you down on the countertop in the bathroom. He switched the lights on and you let out a groan covering your eyes. 

You watched him look you over for damage while your voice was stuck somewhere deep inside you. His rough hands traced the bruise on your neck and you let out a soft hum. He didn't move his hand and you looked up into his piercing blue eyes. A different type of tension settled between the two of you one that caused your bones to ache. Without further thought and with no one but God to judge you, you leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to his lips. 

A part of you expected him to recoil in disgust or offense, but he pulled away placing his thumb over your lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, and you struggled slightly. You wanted him so badly it hurt to breathe. 

“You’re in shock.” He whispered with a softness you didn't know he possessed. 

“So?” You mumbled against his thumb. 

“So, see how you feel in the morning then try again.” He smiled slightly and you noticed how much blood had splattered up his arms. He got you settled in his bed and gave you some tea. He made some phone calls and after a long while, he came back.

Without any questions or stress, he started reading the book that he must have grabbed from your night table. 

You thought you should tell him to stop but enjoyed the way his nose crinkled and how he started to argue about the character's motives. 

“Men don’t think that way - surely you must know this?” he said looking down at you curled up in his blankets. The sun was just starting to come up and you were wishing there was a way for you to keep stuck in this moment. 

“I have no idea how men think” You whispered up at him. Right then there was a commotion in the hallway. 

“Oh, NO.” Enola’s voice had called out and you both shot up. You winced in pain as you followed him out of the room.

“Who are you lot? You need to tell me where she is right now.” Enola commanded in a voice that would have made the average person crumple. 

Thomas, the man standing across from her was not the average person. His eyes flicked from her to you standing behind Sherlock. You caught the relief flooding his features and Arthur let out a deep breath from the living room.  

“There she is. Tough girl.” Arthur came towards you and you let him pull you into a big hug. 

Sherlock and Thomas stood still staring at each other in a way that made you worry. 

“This going to be a regular occurrence?” Sherlock asked in a cold tone. John had squared up his chest when you noticed Ada seemed deeply pleased about something as she looked at you from your bedroom doorway. 

“No,” Thomas said easily. “This is for you.” He pulled out a folded piece of paper. 

Sherlock accepted the paper and sighed when Enola grabbed onto his forearm angling it so she could read it better. 

“Moriarty!” She gasped. “Oh, Sherlock this makes perfect sense! The last case was in Romani, he must have known we had her help. We never ask anyone for help so -” 

“So we put a gigantic target on her back.” He looked down at her with an icy expression and you hated the way it hit her. 

“I take partial responsibility for that,” Thomas called out taking some of the blame off of the girl's shoulders. Not something you would have expected from him. “Moriarty has been pestering me for a meeting for a long while now. I assume this was his way of grabbing our attention.”

“Can she stay with you?” Ada asked in a sweet voice. 

“Of course.” Sherlock and Enola both said at the same time in very different tones. 

“She should come home, Tom,” Arthur said tightening his arm around your shoulders. 

“She would be more help on the case here,” Enola said in a quiet voice. 

“She won't be any safer back home. Plus she’s the only one Alfie enjoys working with. Lord knows we will need his help.” Ada added. 

“If it's not any trouble” You looked at Sherlock. “I’d rather stay here and help.” You added moving your gaze to Tommy. 

“Fuck.” he sighed. “You stay here, deal with Alfie.” 

You smiled at the thought of how much it bothered your brother that Alfie would always keep his word if you asked him to. 

“If that’s settled I should be off.” Thomas gave you a quick hug then Arthur and John followed him out with glances of warning to Sherlock. 

“Alright, two of you go do your thing - with less shouting than usual. We will start on the mess in here.” You looked at Ada and she nodded. 

“No, It’s technically a crime scene or whatever?” Ada looked at Enloa. 

“Yes, she's right you should just move over to our side and leave everything as is.” Enola gave a serious nod and you couldn't help but think they were up to something. 

“We will have to review the last case to see how it relates to this. You need to rest.” Sherlock put his arm around out and gilded you towards his apartment. 

“Don't.” He said before you could start arguing. “Please just rest a bit for me.” 

“Did you just say please?” You said caught off guard by his choice of words. 

“Go to sleep.” He turned on his heel and left you to curl up in his bed. You got up for a while before falling asleep again on the couch listening to him and Enola go back and forth with different theories.

You felt him carry you back to bed and felt a moment of guilt realizing you shouldn't have made him carry you. He placed you back on the bed and you mumbled thanks. There was a moment of complete silence before you felt the bed dip under his weight. 

“My brother has guards covering the building, I don't think there’s any more evidence in my flat if you want me to -” You said realizing there really wasn't a reason for you to stay in his space. 

“I want you to stay.” He murmured into your hair and you felt his arm wrap around you. A heavy peaceful weight crept over you and you were very grateful to give him what he wanted.  

“Then I’ll stay.” You whispered and he pulled you tight against his chest. You thought about that kiss, but you felt his breath even out. With sleep washing over you, you made a note to revisit that kiss in the morning.

____

I feel really nervous about this one so let me know what you think <3

X Reader Masterlist

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Nightmares | Bucky comforts you after you have a nightmare.

Good Morning | Waking up with Bucky, who doesn’t want you to get out of bed.

You Deserve The Word | Bucky can’t help but think that he doesn’t deserve you, but you assure him that isn’t true.

Five Years Later | Five years after the blip, there seems to be a way to bring back everyone… including your lost love.

Distraction | You wanted to finish unpacking your new home, but Bucky had other plans.

Tom Holland!Peter Parker

Will You Be My Girlfriend | Peter takes Y/N on a late night swing through the city before popping a very important question.

Cuts And Bruises | When Peter shows up bruised and bloody, you make sure to clean him up and take care of him.

Bedtime | Peter visits you late at night after patrol. He forces you to go to bed and get some much needed sleep.

You’re Spider-Man? | After it comes out that Tony Stark visited Peter, you make him tell you the real reason why.

Druig 

Never Leave Again | After many years apart, you set out to reunite with your love, Druig.

Foggy Neslon

Happy Valentine’s Day | After a tough day you completely forget about Valentine’s Day. Foggy, being the amazing boyfriend he is, does his best to cheer you up with an amazing night.

Stranger Things

Read more of my Stranger Things works on wattpad!

Steve Harrington

I’ll Always Be There For You | Steve does his best to avoid admitting his fear of horror movies to you. But during a movie night with the kids, you let him know that there’s no reason to be embarrassed.

Eddie Munson

I Promise | After you defeat One, you run back to your best friend, Eddie. You promised him you’d make it back alive to tell him a big secret you’ve kept from him for a long time.

More Bats | You can’t stop yourself from drawing more bats down eddie’s arm in pen, but you didn’t think he was actually going to get them tattooed on him.

Name Three Songs | You're wearing one of Eddie's Metallica tees when a guy tries to get you to name three songs. Eddie swoops in just in time to tell the guy to fuck off.

Jonathan Byers

Should I Stay Or Should I Go? | While your singing and dancing around Will’s room, trying to cheer him up, Jonathan comes home. He can’t stop himself from asking you a question he’s wanted to ask you for a long time.

Robin Buckley

We’re Supposed To Be Studying | You invited robin over to study, but she’s more interested in going through your things.

Bye Billy | You’re waiting for Robin after work, when Billy comes up to you. He doesn’t seem to be getting the hint that you’re not interested.

Eleven Hopper

You’re Cute When You’re Angry | Eleven helps calm you down after you get angry about failing a test.

Supernatural

Read more of my Supernatural works on wattpad!

Castiel

Crooked Tie | Castiel’s crooked tie drives you crazy. He becomes very confused when you start to fix his tie every time he shows up. One day he finally confronts you, asking you why you always fix his tie.

My Angel | You had fallen right into their trap. The angels were using you as bait to get Castiel. They made the mistake of underestimating him.

Sam Winchester

|Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist|

Rock, Paper, Scissors | You flirt with the brothers after a successful hunt.

Dean Winchester

Rock, Paper, Scissors | You flirt with the brothers after a successful hunt.

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

It’s Always Been You | You go to see Spencer at his apartment to check up on him. It’s been two weeks since the fiasco with maeve and he hasn’t left his apartment. While you’re there, the secret you’ve kept in all this time is revealed.

Aaron Hotchner

Worried | When you are kidnapped by an unsub, Hotch will do anything and everything to get you home safe.

BBC Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Sneaky Cigarette | John convinced you and Sherlock not to smoke, but one day the two of you can’t help it.

Serenade Me | You’re bored out of your mind, so you decide to play Sherlock’s violin. He comes home to see you playing.

Harry Potter

Neville Longbottom

You’re My Happiest Memory | You and Neville find out your each other’s others happiest memory when trying to conjure your patronus.

Friday The 13th (2009)

Clay Miller X Reader | You are Clay Miller’s girlfriend. He’s taken you to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, looking for his sister, Whitney. She’s been missing for a month and a half after she went on a camping trip with some friends. You and Clay are determined to find her, but there is a hockey masked killer who is waiting in the woods for you.

Since I saw Five and (Y/N) at a therapist. I can't get out of my head this vision of Sherlock taking their darling to a therapist because "Apparently it's for the better" bit in the end he just shoot him 😭

Therapist : Maybe you can't consider that your way of seeing things aren't the best-

Shelock : *shoot the therapist* My way of seeing things is logical and sane for her well being. Goldfish.

(Y/N) : 😰😢

AO3

Warnings: Yandere, dark, killing, gun, kidnapped reader

⠀

Poor thing, you're so terrorised. Sherlock looks at you, his dangerous obsession hidden behind his psychotic and cruel eyes. You're so afraid that it doesn't even cross your mind to run away. You cry silently, hoping he doesn't hurt you.

He puts his arm around your shoulder and leans you against his chest. "Let's go, darling. Let's go to someone who knows how to do their job."

Bullet with Vampire Wings {Sherlock x GN!Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3904 Summary: You end up killing someone that attempts to murder Sherlock Holmes. But the reason behind it is not what everyone thought it would be. Notes: Describes murder, blood, deception.

Your hands were covered in another person’s blood. It was warm, sticky, and it really did get everywhere. It was worse than hair dye in that regard. It was on your shirt, though you couldn’t remember if you had touched it or not. More than likely, it was upon your face too. There was no mirror to look in, at least, not yet. You could clean yourself up in the prison, the arresting officer said, pushing your arms behind you to put the handcuffs on. It might not be ideal, or welcoming, but there was a shower there. The flashing lights on top of the police cars were disorienting you, and you could faintly hear Sherlock shouting. It was defense, you idiots, it was all defense. Y/N had saved my life, why are you arresting them? Oh, the poor dear. He really considered himself to be brilliant but you never caught onto one simple fact. You were never on his side. Not even once.

It had started five years ago. Sherlock’s name had started popping up in the papers. A picture or two, once he had solved a case. There was something about his face that you just didn’t like. A smugness to it. This man truly thought that he was the most intelligent man in the world, and yet he was lowering himself to solving petty crimes? What a waste of a mind, and what a waste of talent. He was smart, you could give him that, but was he actually clever? You, only twenty at the time, had sipped at your tea while reading over his latest case and thinking - perhaps you could pose a sort of challenge. See how far he could actually take his intellect. And why not add something on top of it? Why not do it all while right under his nose?

It was easier to orchestrate a crime in this grand city than it should have been. You went missing. You created a trail of very subtle clues and sat yourself down in a loft in the city owned by an executive of a company you didn’t like very much and spent your days following the case on the news. Sherlock Holmes was brought in to consult. On the television, you saw him standing outside of your brownstone, Lestrade with him, waving away the press. To every question asked, they said no comment. That told you a lot.

It took them two total days to find you. You weren’t impressed at all. You thought that Sherlock was supposed to be brilliant, but alas. That’s the problem with trying to meet people these days. Most of them were a disappointment, especially in the intelligence sector. But Sherlock was the closest thing to a match that you had in this city, even if he was still a level below you. As your father said, sometimes you just had to play nice with the unfortunates. It’s not their fault that they’re so ... stupid.

You had more than enough time to anticipate his entrance, and to play it up. You were just a poor victim. You had been taken from your home, tasered, blindfolded. You had the burn marks on your side to prove it. The lengths that you would go to for this plan, the scars were just the beginning. Who took you, Lestrade asked, while Sherlock looked carefully at everything. You had no worries about him finding any evidence that you were just here at your leisure. That a simple hour ago, you had been sitting on the couch, reading a worn out copy of The Iliad, snacking on some goldfish crackers. No crumbs, the book slipped back into the bookshelf, yourself being bound once more and a look of desperation on your tear lined face. They bought it. They absolutely bought it.

You were treated in A&E for the burns, and you watched on the TV that the executive was arrested. Not only for kidnapping, but for all sorts of business malpractices. Money laundering, illegal displacements of funds, all of that very fun stuff that was going to have him tied up in the courts for at least a decade. He pleaded his innocence to everything that he was being charged with, but the evidence spoke for itself, and if he was lying about one thing, who is to say that he isn’t lying about everything? It was the simplest thing in the world. And his reason for kidnapping you? A complete accident, of course, the address of your brownstone was on an Avenue, while the address of one of the accountants was the same number, the same street name, but on a Grove. Easy mistake. They were keeping you around while trying to figure out what to do with you, since you were innocent.

Really, it was all too easy to set all of this up. You just had to act all traumatized, answer the questions, and work your way into Sherlock’s life. How did he find you, you asked. And he was only too happy to explain how ‘easy’ it was, with the eight steps that he took. You attempted to look impressed, you really did. But you couldn’t stop yourself from interrupting during the fourth, “-and those emails didn’t make it clear to you?” You asked,making him pause. That was all that you would have needed, if you wanted to spend your time looking for missing people. “Sorry, sorry,” You muttered. “I’m grateful, I am, I just would have thought - no, never mind.”

“No, go on,” Sherlock insisted. And you explained yourself, how what the email said - written by you through the executive’s account, easy peasy, should have pointed him to look into his other properties. Then they might have been at the door as soon as yesterday. Sherlock seemed to give that some thought. He looked pensive, an amusing expression because it meant that he knew you had a point, a ‘simpleton’ like you. He was gazing at you differently than before now, and you settled into the hospital bed, pretending to have gotten a sort of pain.

And as expected, he kept in touch. You had planted the seeds of interest inside of him. He was intrigued by you, and you - well, you appeared to be eager to learn. He took you under his wing, so to speak. Minute by minute, the amount of rage that he caused inside of you grew larger. He was so sanctimonious. So smug. So fucking holier-than-thou. And then you met his brother Mycroft and saw how much that ran in the family. His parents must be entirely insufferable. And then there was John. Poor little John Watson, always bring dragged into these dangerous situations, and puffing out his chest like a hero as he wrote them out on his blog, as if he had been the one to save the day. As if. It was usually some off-hand comment by you, or some comment made innocently that had put Sherlock on the right path. You weren’t made for the role of a hero. It was infuriating.

Your plotting began the first moment that he invited you to help him with a case. It was hard for you to admit, but you became obsessed with the idea of taking Sherlock down. Of wiping that stupid expression off of his face for good. Villains were always monologuing before a kill, which meant that the hero had time to escape and save the day, hurrah hurrah, so you wouldn’t be able to give him the full experience of pointing out all of his wrongs, unfortunately. It was so temping though. He really just assumed that he was always the smartest person in the room. You were giving yourself an ulcer putting up with it.

You were always one step ahead. You might have a bit of an ego but you couldn’t put it at more than that. He was close to being your match. And you hated him for it. You loathed every second that you were around him. You hated how slow he could be, how it took him an additional day, an additional hour to catch onto something in a case that you had noticed right away. There were times when you had to innocently bring up a fact just so that he would have a chance to catch up. Just so that there wouldn’t be an innocent death on your hands, or an additional murder out there. You might not have much of a conscience but you did have a care for those that couldn’t always help themselves.

God, how you hated him. And how you couldn’t express it around him. He probably thought you worshiped him, the narcissistic pig-face. You couldn’t murder him too quickly, no, you had to play it cool, learn every facet of his life to use it all against him. He had his walls built up castle size, however. It was hard to get even the slightest bit out of him without him catching onto you. That’s why it had been taking so long. Years. Years of your life wasted but the fall was going to be the most beautiful thing in the world. You already started to make your moves - Moriarty was becoming more well known now, and you pushed forward an actor who knew nothing about you save for the instructions you sent him from afar, just to throw off more blame from you.

Five years. Orchestrating from behind the scenes. There was no satisfaction that you had ever felt more strongly than that when Sherlock was stressing out over what Moriarty’s next move was going to be. You learned how to keep control of your facial features to the point where you deserved every award out there. Give you an Emmy, give you an Oscar, the Academy should be worshiping your feet.

But there was one thing that you did not foresee. Someone else wanting to get to Sherlock as much as you do. But they took the quick and easy route, rather than the concentrated long-game that you did. It wasn’t even some mastermind that did it either. It wasn’t Magnussen. It wasn’t even Culverton Smith. It was just some run of the mill murderer. Some guy with a gun who was trying to get away from Sherlock and Lestrade. The stupid Holmes, he wasn’t even supposed to be a part of physically catching the murderer. He was just supposed to stay inside of Baker Street, come up with the killer, phone it in and wait. His stubbornness was going to get himself killed before your plans came to fruition.

The man had a gun, a pocket pistol of sorts. And he was turning around to shoot Sherlock, his coat flinging away from his torso as you watched in slow-motion. He whipped it out like he thought he was some sort of action star. Lestrade was running too hard, too fast, to start to take out his gun properly. He was fumbling while trying to get it out of his belt. Sherlock was trying to stop, but his momentum was too fast. He was thrust forward, nearly falling to the ground. And John, poor limping John, had nearly crashed into a postbox. It was up to you at this point. You were closest, having been told to try to cut him off from the side street. A mere two meters. You could let him shoot Sherlock. It was an easy shot. He wouldn’t get away with it. You could claim that you were too far away to stop him.

But no. That was letting him get off way too easily.

Your knife was easier to get out of your pocket than any weighty gun was. Just the push of a button on the handle and the blade came out, sharpened just that week. It glinted in the streetlight, right into the eyes of the murderer. It distracted him but only for the narrowest second. He tried to blink the glare out of the corner of his eye and by that time, it was too late for him. You reached him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and thrusting the blade right into his gut. And with a sweeping motion, you slid it through the flesh, through the shirt, and tore it out of his side, blood rising to the surface. In his pain and his panic, he fired off a shot. It hit a no parking sign, and ricochet, going through the windshield of a car that was breaking that rule. Then the murderer started to fall towards the ground, slowly, slowly, everything still in slow motion for you as your brain worked quickly.

Stabbing someone is not as easy as one would make it seem. You had to push it through layers of skin, all pushed together. Organs as well. It wasn’t a thin little pork chop. It took strength. It took determination. And it took a real sharp knife. Even wrenching it out, covered in blood, was rough. Your biceps were sore just from the motion, but your adrenaline was rushing, making it hard to notice or focus on.

There was so much blood. You didn’t typically get your hands dirty like this. It was so sticky and so messy. It was like glue from elementary school. When you pulled out the knife, and let go of the man as he started to fall, you realized that it had spilled over the handle as well. It had gotten onto your coat. It even got onto the trousers that you had just picked up from the dry-cleaner the night before. And it looked like he wasn’t even going to be around to foot the bill to get them re-cleaned. You looked down at his body, while still holding the knife over him, and noticed how it was more than just blood that was coming out of the large gash that you had made in him. An intestine was spilling out, looking like a limp snake.

You knew exactly what you were doing. There wasn’t any shock to it, there wasn’t any trepidation or regret afterwards. It was a simple annoyance. As was everything that was going to come afterwards.

Back-up finally started to approach, sirens coming from the top of the police cars. Sherlock and Lestrade finally caught up to you, the policeman looking at the body and Sherlock looking at you. “Are you hurt?” The lank man asked - as if he had thoughts of anyone outside of himself.

“I don’t think so,” You said, knowing perfectly well that you were fine. Not even a nick. Not even a bruise. Just the work out from going through those layers and layers of epidermis. “He was going to kill you.”

“Yeah, he was,” Lestrade said, kicking the pistol out of the way, and then dropped down to the ground. Two fingers against his neck to test his pulse. He shook his head. “Dead.”

Too quick. That was annoying. You could have spit. Anger was making you start to shake, but Sherlock took it as you being in shock. He put a hand on your upper arm and you flinched away - the audacity of this skinny bitch. He muttered to the back up police that you were in shock. You braced yourself. You knew what was coming. There was no way that you were going to kill someone in public like this without getting cuffed.

And that’s where you were now. Sherlock was yelling in your defense. John was trying to explain to an officer what had happened. Lestrade was promising you that he’d meet you at the station and everything would be cleared up. Surprisingly, you felt alright. You had a calm and level head now that the threat had been eradicated. The only thing that was possibly upsetting was the fact that the victim wasn’t the correct person. You didn’t offer any trouble to the officers, to your credit. You could have broken out of these cuffs easily. They all had a weak spot, but you didn’t. You allowed yourself to be taken to the station. You allowed yourself to be fingerprinted. To be put into an interrogation room.

Just because your plan was being forced to change didn’t mean that it was off. You just had to take a different approach now. It was the perfect time to break Sherlock’s little heart. To let him know that all of the trust he had put into you over the last couple of years was misguided. That he was not smart enough to see this coming.

--

You were waiting in interrogation for an hour before Lestrade, Sherlock and another officer came in. “This is just a formality,” Lestrade explained, looking annoyed at the other officer. “We just need your statement and then we can process your release. It was clearly in self defense. We’ll have this sorted in no time,” Greg assured you. “Can we at least remove the cuffs?”

The officer acquiesced, coming around to your side of the table and undid the cuffs around your neck. You rubbed at where they had irritated your skin. Such barbaric little things, these handcuffs. A rope with a good knot was much more effective, but you know how men are. They love the look of metal. You smiled at Greg thankfully, since you honestly had nothing against the detective. He was a good man. Not smug. A little confused sometimes, but it was adorable in it’s own way. “Can you tell us what happened?” He asked.

And so you went through the story. You told him about the case. How you had come to hear about this killer. How he had the gun out and how you pieced together his intent to kill Sherlock Holmes.

“And you stabbed him in defense of Mr. Holmes?” The officer, who had conducted the interview asked you.

“Of course,” You said, leaning back casually against the chair. “I couldn’t let him do such a thing. Not after everything that I had planned. I’ve had to modify it now because of the current circumstances, but what can you do? Even simpletons can disrupt the best laid plans. I know now to try to accommodate discrepancies.”

“Beg your pardon?” Lestrade said, leaning forward, his face confused. But what you were looking at was Sherlock. He looked utterly bewildered for just a couple of seconds before he regained control. He hated to be caught unaware. It was satisfying to see.

“What I’m saying, Greg,” You reiterated. “-is that the real reason I killed this man, whatever his name is, I can hardly remember now, is because I wasn’t going to let him take the kill away from me. Since I had met Mr. Sherlock Holmes here, I’ve had this craving to be the one that wipes his smugness away from the world. I satisfied myself for a time on the fact that he really isn’t as smart as everyone, including himself, thinks that he is. Why, he never even caught on that meeting one another was a farce. I wasn’t kidnapped by anyone. I set it all up myself as a test to him, to compare intellect. He did pass it, but I thought he would catch on a lot faster. Seemed he never had,” You smirked over in Sherlock’s direction. He was starting to get flustered. An angry kind of flustered. “These last couple of years, Sherlock, I’ve helped you so many times. It was so ... so infuriating watching you take the credit when I handed you the answers. Did all of you really think that he solved all of those cases by himself? Not a chance. See, we’re very different, you and I. While you thought you were grooming me, I was playing you the entire time. I had this ... this beautiful, extravagant plan made up that would destroy your life before I took it, but it seems I’m going to have to go another way because of this. I’ll make sure that the detour is worth it. I will take your life with my own hands, and I will enjoy every second of it. That is my statement. I won’t fight against the cuffs officer, so if you please, you can take me to prison now. I admit full conspiracy to murder, and second degree murder for that poor killer. I look forward to making some new friends.”

Lestrade was in shock, because he had considered you a friend. He had considered you to be an asset to Scotland Yard. The other officer was more unbiased, and hurried to put the handcuffs back on you, to hoist you up. He was acting rather roughly with you, showing anger and disgust, which was ever more amusing because this man, this random officer, was never going to be on your level. Before you left though, you couldn’t help but say some last minute words to the tall man who was starting to stand, hands slightly trembling.

“Oh, and Sherlock” You said, making sure his eyes were on yours. You had one more blow to deliver. “If it’s any consolation to you, your brother didn’t figure out that I am Moriarty, either. And he’s of far better intellect than you are.”

If anything was going to leave him more angry than your betrayal, it was that blow to the ego. You saw those words hit home, gave a little wave with your fingers, and allowed yourself to be lead out past a bewildered John Watson, Lestrade and Sherlock following and talking amongst themselves until you were out the door.

--

Two weeks. That’s all that it took. Two weeks and you were out and about in London once more, and not in the prison cell that you should have been in. You even beat the timing in the show Prison Break. In another life, you might have been able to make a fortune in pointing out the weaknesses in the prison structure, in the timing of the changing of the guard, of blind spots from the cameras that even the guards didn’t know about.

And now, you were casually scrolling through a phone that you had stolen from some teenager in the park, while watching Sherlock being put into a black cab by Lestrade to be taken to a safe house. News had emerged of your grand escape. Of the riots that had happened in your name back at the prison. You hadn’t escaped alone, of course not. You brought some people out with you, the ones who had taken the fall for the Moriarty name.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk, and started walking to a car that was idling in wait for you. You got into the passenger seat, eyes still towards 221B. Mrs Hudson was standing in the doorway, looking worryingly out after the car Sherlock was taking off in, the one that you and your actor would be tailing at a distance. Poor dear. You always did like that woman. She knew her place. And that place was making the best cuppa that you ever had.

The dark haired actor maneuvered the car onto the small street, and started the drive. You chose the music, putting on something fun, kind of poppy. A ‘grooving on a Sunday afternoon’ sort of song, singing along as you made your way to enact your final plans.

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 2) Prologue

Father Figure! Sherlock x Teen! Reader

Prologue: First Case

Summary: The first case (Y/N) was involved in with Sherlock, and how they become so close.

Mouse Note: Hello, everyone! Welcome back (or Welcome to) A Study of the Heart and Brain! I hope you guys will all enjoy Book 2! This is a brief prologue to again show the development of MC and Sherlock's relationship, but don't worry, Friday the official content begins! Updates will be Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Again, a quick reminder for newer readers: This is a Father Figure Sherlock x Teen Reader, so no romance! Everything between adults and teenagers is familial. Other than that, welcome back everyone! I'm so excited to share this story with you, it's got some amazing moments. As usual, feel free to comment, I am always responding and love chatting with readers. It makes my day to see your guys' interpretations.

One year ago…

            (Y/N) rested their hand on their palm as they gazed out of the cab window. It had been a month since Sherlock Holmes had decided to bring them into his home as his foster child. It was a strange experience, to say the least. (Y/N) still felt wary of him. They thought he was intelligent, sure, but they had seen the signs—addiction.

            The knowledge weighed heavily on them. (Y/N)’s mother had died of an overdose, and although they pretended it didn’t matter since it happened when they were young, it did have an impact on them. (Y/N) didn’t want to get close to Sherlock if there was a risk of losing him the same way, and they weren’t going to put themself into the situation of getting hurt like that again.

            “We’re here,” said Sherlock as the cab stopped. “Lestrade said the body is in that building.”

            (Y/N) looked over. The building was a simple office-building but still in the late stages of construction since (Y/N) spied the empty rooms inside. Their mind came up with a few deductions right off the bat: From the outside, it appears normal, so to know the inside is empty would require prior knowledge. Killer is involved with it.

            “You sure bringing me is fine?” asked (Y/N). Their voice was even, less of an admission of insecurity (although that was a reality) and more of a question on whether or not Sherlock would be able to get them in. Sherlock could force his way in as an adult; (Y/N) was teenager.

            “Who cares?” said Sherlock. “You’re coming with me whether they like it or not.”

            (Y/N) blinked at his blasé attitude before leaving the cab and following him towards the cop cars and yellow tape.

            “Oh, lovely, Freak’s here,” muttered a dark-skinned woman with a scowl on her face.

            “Donovan,” said Sherlock curtly.

            “What are you doing here?” asked Donovan.

            “You’re out of your depth as usual,” said Sherlock, sounding very pleased with himself.

            Donovan scoffed before spying (Y/N). “Oh, god, why is there a kid here?”

            “They’re my protégé,” said Sherlock as if it was obvious.

            “Did he kidnap you?” questioned Donovan, looking at (Y/N).

            They wrinkled their nose. “No. He’s fostering me.”

            “No way.” Donovan’s mouth dropped open. “No bloody way anyone in their right mind would let the Freak get near a kid.”

            (Y/N) considered. She wasn’t wrong. Sherlock had gotten permission after pressuring his brother (“Mycroft is the British government,” he had explained to them), so they supposed maybe no one in their right mind had given him approval.

            “Well, I’m here,” said (Y/N), tucking their hands into their pockets.

            “Now, if you’d stop wasting our time, we have a case to solve,” said Sherlock.

            “You can’t bring a kid here, Sherlock,” said Donovan. “It’s not regulation.”

            “Call Lestrade. He wants me here, and it’s either both of us or neither,” said Sherlock.

            Donovan scowled. She didn’t have to call Lestrade. She knew he’d give in to Sherlock’s demands. Still, she hated it. Donovan glared at Sherlock as she pulled out her radio to give a report. “Freak’s here, sending him up.” She looked (Y/N) up and down. “And he’s got a surprise with him.”

            What am I, a party trick? thought (Y/N) grumpily.

            “Come on,” said Sherlock, lifting the yellow tape.

            (Y/N) ducked under with him and walked into the building. They went up a flight of stairs to an open room. The office still needed cubicles and desks and chairs, but (Y/N) could feel the soul-sucking “office building air” around them already.

            “Oh my god, is that a teenager?!” hissed another angry voice.

            (Y/N) furrowed their brow. Do adults not realize I can hear them?

            “Incredible observation,” said Sherlock sarcastically. “You can see the obvious. Why don’t you try focusing on the case, or is that too hard, Anderson?”

            Anderson glared at Sherlock. “Oh, shut it. You expect me to just let you waltz in here with a kid? This is a crime scene.”

            “Says they’re a package deal or whatever,” said Donovan. She had followed them up.

            (Y/N) knew what was happening. She was trying to see if they really had any worth and if Sherlock had a reason to bring them.

            “Apparently, he’s fostering them,” said Donovan.

            Anderson scoffed. “Somehow, that’s worse than if they were actually his kid. Someone had to sign off on him taking care of a kid, and that’s bloody crazy.”

            (Y/N) shifted, and Sherlock glanced down at them. They were still young; their mind was developing. He could, for the most part, ignore Donovan and Anderson’s comments, but it was having an effect on them.

            “Yes, well, obviously someone is crazy, so I’d suggest you move on,” said Sherlock. He looked at (Y/N). “Let’s take a look at the body.”

            “Right,” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock walked over to where Lestrade, who (Y/N) recognized from the case at their orphanage, was kneeling by the body of a man. Lestrade stood and did a double-take upon seeing (Y/N).

            “Oh, dear god, you were serious. You actually decided to foster the kid,” said Lestrade.

            (Y/N) stood a little straighter. Lestrade wasn’t insulting him or (Y/N). He was just surprised and a little worried. That was much better than Donovan and Anderson. (Y/N) instantly liked him more than them.

            “Of course I did,” said Sherlock, kneeling by the body. “Their potential was wasted in that orphanage, I told you.”

            Lestrade groaned. “I had hoped you’d get distracted by a case and just leave it alone.”

            “Well, they’re here,” said Sherlock.

            “Yes, they are,” said Lestrade. He extended a hand to (Y/N). “I’m Lestrade. If Sherlock causes trouble for you, just let me know.”

            (Y/N) was unused to an adult being so nice to them. Usually they either ignored them because they were younger or thought they were strange because of their deductive abilities. Evidently, Lestrade was used to Sherlock so didn’t really give a second thought to being civilized with (Y/N).

            “I’m (Y/N),” they said, shaking his hand.

            “(Y/N), take a look,” said Sherlock, gesturing to the body.

            (Y/N) crouched and began to look over the body as Lestrade filled them in. “Alton Morris, pharmacist in London. Construction workers found him this morning when they came in to begin installing cubicles. We can’t work out why he’s in this building. No evidence of connection to it.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes passed on Alton’s corpse. They swallowed hard. Someone had injected him with drugs to cause a forced overdose. That much was clear by the empty needle and pale skin. (Y/N) blinked to clear their head. Yes, having their first case be related to drugs, a difficult subject for them, was bad luck, but they couldn’t let it distract them.

            Sherlock saw their minute reaction and furrowed his brow. The presence of drugs caused them to recoil. In his minds eye, he remembered the file on them from the orphanage. Ah. Their mother died from drug use. His eyes widened slightly. Ah. So that’s why they’ve been so suspicious in the apartment. He had stashes. They had figured it out.

            Sherlock frowned inwardly. He couldn’t really explain it, but he felt his stomach twist uncomfortably as he realized his actions were the reason (Y/N) felt unsafe. Oddly enough, he had gotten a bit attached to them already. They were kind, even though they kept to themself. He had seen it when they were out or with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock liked them. And it was his fault they were wary of him.

            For the first time, Sherlock felt an inward push to make a change. It wouldn’t be easy, but it if meant he could have (Y/N) grow more secure in their surroundings and become the genius he saw they had the potential for, he’d do it. Sherlock would try to quit.

            Sherlock cleared his throat and looked at (Y/N). “What have you figure out?”

            “Oh, come on, they’re a kid,” said Anderson, rolling his eyes. “Can’t we just get on to you showing off? They’re not going be able to help.”

            Sherlock saw (Y/N)’s eyes narrow at Anderson’s insult. “Go ahead, (Y/N),” he said encouragingly. They needed to see that ignoring idiots like Anderson was perfectly fine.

            (Y/N)’s eyes didn’t leave Alton’s body as they began. “He’s a pharmacist and was murdered with drugs. That suggests this crime was drug-related in general since he has ready access to them. His murderer was connected to the construction of this building since they’d know when it was empty enough to do a drug deal. Inside knowledge and all that.”

            Anderson and Donovan glanced at each other in surprise. Lestrade’s eyes widened slightly as (Y/N) proved once again they were smarter than their age suggested.

            “What profile would you suggest for the murderer?” prompted Sherlock, nodding in complete agreement with their findings.

            “A construction worker who’s had an injury in the past,” said (Y/N). “Needed drugs for the pain and got—” the word caught in their throat for a moment, and Sherlock furrowed his brow as his chest twisted again “—addicted.”

            “If the murderer needs the drugs, why did they kill their supplier?” asked Lestrade, confused.

            “Either Alton decided to increase prices since he knew the killer needed them or decided to stop supplying,” said (Y/N). “More likely the first since by the state of Alton’s clothing, he’s low on money, can’t afford newer items and gets these patched up. He needed the money and tried to get more out of the killer. But, uh, the murderer was unstable due to drug use and…killed him with his own product.”

            Sherlock smirked at Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan’s reactions. It was entertaining to see them so surprised. He also made note of how (Y/N) seemed much more self-assured when they were in the moment and focused on their deductions.

            “A freak in training,” muttered Donovan.

            “A Freakling,” agreed Anderson.

            (Y/N) didn’t acknowledge their words and instead looked at Sherlock. “Is that enough?”

            “Well, if Lestrade and Scotland Yard can’t handle it from here, we’d be doing all of their job for them,” said Sherlock, standing up.

            “Thanks, Sherlock,” said Lestrade sarcastically. “We’re not helpless.”

            “Debatable,” said Sherlock. “Come on, (Y/N).”

            (Y/N) stood up and followed him. They left the building and went back to the main street to wait for a cab to pass by. As they did, they passed a sweets shop and paused for a moment at the sight of some purple lollipops. (Y/N) remembered how a nicer social worker used to give treats like that out. Sure, it seemed childish, but (Y/N) liked them. But it was stupid to be so attached.

            “Do you want some?” asked Sherlock. He had noticed their little reaction to the sweets.

            “It’s not important,” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock furrowed his brow. He saw they clearly weren’t used to having people be nice or notice what they liked. “Let’s buy some,” he said. Sherlock wanted to show he wasn’t going to treat them like the adults of the orphanage. He was going to take care of them. And he had to admit, the tiny smile that appeared on (Y/N)’s face as they unwrapped the lollipops he bought them was also a nice reward.

l

            When (Y/N) woke up the next morning, they threw on the scratchy sweater they still had from the orphanage before heading to the kitchen. They weren’t really planning on eating, but they did want to see Sherlock’s experiment (He had put tongue’s in the fridge). They didn’t like his drug habits, but they liked his experiments. (Y/N) found them interesting.

            They paused in the living room and frowned. Their mind immediately categorized the slight changes in the layout. The hiding places of his drugs were gone.

            He…got rid of them? (Y/N) wasn’t sure what to think.

            “Are you planning on standing there or do you want to see the results? I haven’t looked yet,” said Sherlock, poking his head out of the kitchen.

            He was far from a fool; he knew what they had noticed. They made eye contact with him, and he saw the tiny glimmer of thanks within it. (Y/N)’s body relaxed slightly at the knowledge the drugs were gone. It wasn’t complete trust, but Sherlock could see he had made a step in the right direction.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N), following him in.

            They opened the fridge, and together, Sherlock and (Y/N) examined and recorded the results of the experiment before sitting down to check the newspapers for any interesting cases and the results of yesterday’s mystery.

            “They caught him. Construction worker addicted to drugs,” said (Y/N). “We were spot on this time.”

            Sherlock glanced up to where they were lounging on the couch. That was more than they had ever spoken to him at one time unbidden. Another good sign. The orphanage had taught them to be silent, not speak their mind, not share their thoughts and deductions. Sherlock was determined to undo some of the damage that had done to (Y/N).

            “Yes. Occasionally there’s a detail we miss, but this one was straightforward,” said Sherlock in agreement.

            “It was,” agreed (Y/N).

            “Oh. I have something,” said Sherlock, standing and crossing to where a bundled package lay on a messy table.

            “What is it?” asked (Y/N).

            “Find out,” said Sherlock, giving it to them.

            (Y/N) opened it up. It was a soft purple sweater. It would fit much better than the clothes from their group home, and it was in the same deep color as the lollipops they had liked. He noticed that? He paid attention to what I like? (Y/N)’s heart seemed to warm at having someone take care of their feelings slightly.

            “Thank you,” said (Y/N) quietly. I think…I think I’m going to like this place and him.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

Secret - S.Holmes; part four

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Genre: purely angst, upcoming age and some smut

Warning: none

Word: 3.6k

main mastetlist  | request & ask | prompts | theme song

Chapters index

prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part night | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | epilogue

“Can I please go to see daddy, mummy?”

Zoe asked sleepily, curling up in her bed surrounded by her favourite teddies. All evening she had been pestering you for an answer, promising to be a good girl and eat her vegetables if she was allowed to go. You could see it in the twinkle in her eyes how much she really wanted to see him.

But something didn’t feel right for you.

You dimmed her nightlight and bent down to pressed your lips to her forehead, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “We will talk about it in the morning,” you told her, smoothing her hair back and offering her a warm smile before tiptoeing to the door. “Sweet dreams little one,” you murmured softly by the door, watching her reach for Mr Snuggles. 

“Night night mummy,” she replied, waving Mr Snuggles fluffy paw in your direction.

Slowly you closed the door and then rested your forehead against the cool wood. Having to constantly deal with Zoe’s pleading had been more draining than you would have thought. Even when you weren’t in the room, it was all she would talk about. You could hear her in her bedroom, talking to Mr Snuggles before she fell asleep.

“I really hope mummy lets me see daddy,” you heard her say through the door.

Your phone suddenly buzzed in your pocket so you decided to live Zoe and Mr Snuggles to their conversation and headed into the living room where the news was on mute. It was a text from Sherlock, the very reason you were having an issue with Zoe going to him in the first place. How could it be? It’s not easy like touch Sherlock’s shoulder and say; ‘hey, you’re a dad.’ How could you一

“Are you free for a chat?”

Curling up on the sofa, you sent back a simple ‘yes’ and stared blankly at the TV screen while they reported on the stock market. 

You had wanted your move to London to be a fresh start for you and Zoe but all it had done so far was dredge up the past. It felt as if you were balancing on thin ice that was unknowingly cracking beneath you.

Like lightning, your phone buzzed violently, almost vibrating off the sofa before you saved it and balanced it on your ear. “What’s up?” you answered quietly, feeling the day catch up with you and leave you tired. 

“Nothing much, just taking a break from investigate the kidnapping of the children of the British Ambassador to the U.S., Rufus Bruhl and I missed your voice,” he replied, sending a jolt to your heart with his voice. How can he say something like that so casually? He left you practically swooning.

Giggling into your hair, you felt the blush burn your cheeks and still felt the need to hide your face. “We had lunch together earlier this afternoon,” you countered, licking your lips as you remembered your lunch ‘date’ in that restaurant.

“It was barely an hour,” he whined cutely, making your heart clench. He used to whine like that when you would choose studying over sex with him … and look how that turned out. “Besides all you did was listen to me moan about my job. I wanted to hear about what kept you busy when I moved away,” he added.

‘Your daughter kept me busy,’ you thought to yourself, feeling the same pang of guilt you felt when you thought of Zoe whilst talking to him.

“I didn’t mind listening to you moan,” you exclaimed, hoping to pull the attention away from you and what happened in the six years of no contact. “Clearly you needed to vent about all that stress. Are case going well so far?” You asked quietly.

You heard him sigh loudly down the phone. He sounded just as tired as you did. “So far so good,” he commented quietly. “At the end of the week, gonna hand some help for Mycroft. It’s absolutely massive.” As tired as he was, he sounded genuinely exhausted about the silly conflict between brothers, no matter how deduced things it was fun for him, so far.

His mention of his brother sparked your interest. “How are Myc now? I heard he’s the big part of our country government.” You asked, hoping to sound nonchalant.

“I think he’s still dumb. It’s insane, when he only stay at his mysterious office while my mom keep calling me to check up on him,” he exclaimed resisting, probably grinning from ear to ear at the thought of his tiredness filling up his stomach.

That was one thing definitely different about Sherlock: he had such loveless for his family but always spoke of them fondly like he knew them all on a personal level. But you couldn’t pretend to understand it when got kicked off from the house because you were pregnant, your dad only said that cruel words to you, how come he hated your little daughter when she’s has a brave hearted? He should be proud to be a grandfather but no.

Sometimes you just imagine your mom looking down from the sky above, she’s might crying over there to know how torturous of the bad blood had formed between you and your dad.

And it was something that separated you and Sherlock and left you in your own realities. He had a fan … reputation facing up to him and counting on him whereas you just had Zoe – two very different sides of the same coin.

Knowing the likelihood that Zoe would be lost amongst the thousands of screaming at the parade but she only need to see her father. “Sherlock 一I”

“Y/N, I think I need to rest,” you heard his yawning voice and it’s pushed you to pause everything you have.

“Goodnight, then.”

You started to warm to the idea of her knowing who is her father. Long after Sherlock hung up to go back to rest after a long day, you stayed up, weighing up the unlikely worst case scenario of Sherlock spotting Zoe in the giant crowd and by some cosmic miracle knowing she was his daughter, versus the simple fact that your daughter would be so happy to know.

But how could it possibly to tell her father that he has a baby, even so, five years old now too.

In the morning, you met Elle’s mother outside the school gates. A little chat with her done like the way it was. And that’s time you heard of the advertising of the show up of two great detectives at the museum were using, same day as the march at Zoe school.

And that sealed the decision … Perhaps it’s a time for you to tell both of Zoe and Sherlock the secret you were kept.

Still, you aren’t really ready.

“Ah… May I have that rose?" The voice of a young kid initiated you to depart the baskets of tulips, you turned to see the boy in high school uniform standing in front of your shop, with his mouth pouting and his eyes were red. “Rose? For a bouquet?" You asked him while you gathered up every one of the coloured roses.

The boy sighed, one of his hands scratching under his chin, appearing pinched. "I don't think I have enough money for a bouquet. How much is the red one?"

"Well, it's all £0.08 per stem." You mentioned with a friendly grin, directing towards newly trimmed roses to give to the young kid. The colours you have are cream, yellow, pink, hot pink, bi-color yellow and orange, and red.

He asked once again after a few minutes. "Pink is so cute; can I bring this to my upset girlfriend?" And it's a question that makes you laugh because, just as you could have predicted, this boy plans to make up with his girl by using a flower. "Give her any colour you want, kid. But pink is a terrific choice."

"Okay, then pink a single stem."

“Gotcha.” You grinned as you selected one of the pink roses and wrapped it in paper and paper rope before returning the pile of other flowers to the basket from which you were taken. He murmured something under his breath, opened his wallet, and his phone began to ring.

“What? Why are you still at the library?" The boy crushes the back of his head, gives the cash for his rose, and quickly thank you before returning to his phone. "Waiting for me? Oh shit, Maria. I thought you were upset with me."

You dropped the money into the metallic box and came back to watering your tulips while your ears continued to hear the young boy's converse from in front of your shop until he walked away.

At that point, flashbacks of you and Sherlock in high school come flooding into your frame of mind for no apparent reason.

It was seven years ago…

The testing session was extended by a week as a result of a school shooting or two, and you nevertheless recall the echoes of gunfire whereas you were in the classroom, and all you had was get locked in the men's bathroom in Sherlock's arm, shakily, break down with fluid tears on your cheeks, and considering that his brother is the most recent arrival of the government team, it kept Sherlock busy with his brother's positions as well. And you already know how straightforward he ignores to take care of himself.

It scares you since bad things happen and Sherlock's behaviours, even though he contends that all he needs to recharge is a long hug from you and a slew of kisses in between. So you grab his hand on a Friday evening, drag him into an empty lecture hall, and place him in the chair nearest to the window, while he brings yours and his school packs after you. His head is a little foggy, perplexed by what you're doing, but he has no doubts. Sherlock trusts you, knows you won't hurt him, and lets you have his heart to do with as you like.

When you pull out many containers full of food that you've packed for him, he just stares at you, his eyes blank, making your heart skip a beat.

"How did you make this for me?" He gestures to the contents before him, chicken soup and fresh fruits and wonderful noodles and zesty drink that looks as good as it smells, and you nod.

Sherlock's smile shrinks as he notices the pink plastic tape on the tip of your finger. "What the hell is that plastic wound tape?" And all you are capable of saying is 'oh'. "Oi, cut yourself again? Dumbo."

"Sherlock, it's just a tiny cut."

"I know but it hurts you."

"Yes, drama queen."

A beat passes before his lips quirk into a smile and his eyes light up, the mirror of his irises swimming in ecstasy. "I bet the embassy meal is boring; it's worth getting this wound a million times just to see you eating something." You can't help but squeal as he pulls you onto his lap, kissing every piece of flesh he can reach; over your eyelids, on the place just below the corner of your eye, the tip of your nose, your teeth, your lashes.

Actually, everywhere.

You're a giggling mess, and sooner or later, he cups your face and allows your lips contact, and all you can do is clutch his white shirt to uphold stability while gripping the hem of your skirt to keep it from blowing from the open window with the cool evening breeze. It's more than enough, even if it ends up being sloppy because Sherlock won't stop beaming into the kiss and you won't stop laughing, teeth colliding against one other in pure excitement.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says adoringly, one hand holding you close while the other eats, neither of you willing to let go. "You're the best."

You tilt your head and rest your palm against his cheek, looking him straight in the eyes. “Just remember to always take care of yourself, okay?”

He smiles.

Six years ago…

Sherlock sat down on the couch. The fervour in his eyes was obvious, and he was anxious as you crawled up to him on the floor. You two had gone out with everyone and had gotten extremely drunk and ridiculous by problem from your family. He was the only one who was sober enough to drive you home; the other guys were all drunk, and your closest friend had to help them as well.

Wipe your smudged mascara off your face, Sherlock hurls your phone aside and doesn't seem to care where it was after seeing the text from your dad. He despised the way you were treated by your father's unkind thoughts after your mother became ill and died a few months ago. How could he have blamed it on you?

Perhaps since Sherlock was born into a loving family, even if Mycroft's dumb attitude makes his head spin at times, they are still attached. Unlike you, a single child who grew up with a lack of warmth from your parents, and it hurts him every time he sees you act like this way when the fight of you and your father ends.

Your sudden sexual moan drag him back to the reality, swear to God; Sherlock had never seen a side of you like this before; you were normally composed and conservative, so seeing you behaving like this was unusual to him. Okay, you both kissed several times, but you weren't really conscious of what was going on. You were just in your own little universe, surrounded by the chemicals you had consumed to no limit.

You had no idea what you were doing, and you weren't going to remember anything in the morning.

Which made Sherlock even more apprehensive, because he didn't know how he was going to tell you. And wouldn't this be called exploitative? Sherlock, at the age of twenty, is aware that he is intelligent and capable of being more than other people his age. He notices his blood coursing through his veins in desperate need, or how his crotch of trousers began to thicken and became painful.

He didn't want to take advantage of you, especially because he knew that if you were in your right mind, you wouldn't be acting and coming on to him like that.

As you crawled up to him, you tripped and sort of fell into his lap, making him jump and you chuckle in the process. You laughed with hazy eyes and flushed cheeks, as did the rest of your body. Sherlock's eyes widened as you leaned your head up to him and made kissing motions. You wanted to kiss him? Should he retaliate?

"Y/N, stay still." Sherlock shook his head, attempting to shake the thought away. Noㅡ He should not.

You pushed him up, standing on your knees, with your entire torso on his crotch and your arms on each side of him. Sherlock wasn't sure if it was you being on him in this clothes or the way your cleavage hung out your dress and the black bra that revealed your chests hill from collarbone that made him so hard.

He was hard. Very hard. 

"What's wrong, Sherly," you whispered slowly, biting your lips and squeezing both of his cheeks at his scared visage in this horrible circumstance. What did he intend to do? What should he have done? It was difficult for him to will himself not to touch you as much as it was to touch you. If if that had made any sense.

That's why he threw up right here. This is where it all went wrong. Every one of his morals.

You'd gotten back on the floor. Sherlock is staring at you carefully. You'd laughed a little and rested your head on his lap as you played. Sherlock, on the other hand, had inhaled all the oxygen in the room because your mouth was so close to his cock.

Strained.

That's how Sherlock felt right now, and he felt forced to go because this was his cue. But when he tried to stand up, you said, "I want to suck your cock." Was the dirtiest words he ever heard come out your pretty little mouth.

You'd shoved him down, making him groan. He was unbuckled when you unbuckled his belt. He came to a halt in front of you. "I don't think this is something we should do right now." He pleaded, but you weren't interested. You, the drunk, wanted to do what she wanted to do, and you planned to accomplish it. To sucked his cock.

"I’ll do it… no worries, Sherly." You had yanked his member out, and your eyes had widened. Sherlock only gazed at his hands at his sides, unsure what to do. You didn't have a relationship with Sherlock but had a crush on you and wasn't sure if you recognized that. But they always say that when you're drunk, your actual feelings come out.

You giggled and gripped his cock, which was rock hard and stood tall on your tiny palm. You lifted it slowly to your mouth, your gaze never leaving Sherlock's. And when your lips went down his entire shaft, he shouted out, his lovely face losing all seriousness. You stood up again, and when his head came out of your mouth, it made a lovely sound.

His bloated mushroom head. You had only taken that section, sucking on his most sensitive area. You slid your tongue beneath the edge of his head where it met the shaft. Then you surprised him by engulfing his entire being. He screamed as he feel his precum just came out on the tip, and his hands immediately sought your hair. You had one hand on the base of his huge cock as your point finger on the upper part, playing with the sticky liquid and rubbed it over your face.

You'd found a rhythm, and Sherlock's breathing were hard and efficient. You dragged him out of your mouth, making him to moan and whine like a girl as you began sucking and tonguing his balls. It felt pleasantly good for him to cry out to the unknown sensation.

Sherlock was losing his shit when you started kissing him and virtually making out with his cock. You were gifted and knowledgeable. Something he didn't consider while he was thinking of you.

You wanted him to cum now.

You began swallowing him and jumping up and down on him. As his hands were entangled in your hair, he assisted you. Your mouth going up and down on his shaft. He was moaning like a little girl again. As he got closer, you were even drier.

"Fuck, Y/N." His shaft constricted, and you could feel his ball sack rise as all his cum squeezed out of his huge head. You enjoyed ate every last bit of it. You kept sucking him to make sure everything was out, and he cried out because he had become so sensitive.

You came to a halt and peered down at him, his cock still stiff and not entirely down. Well, you'd just have to get him rock hard again.

You'd landed on top of him, scaring him. Sherlock panickedly yelled out your name as you pushed the tube top to your dress down, exposing your breast to him. Both hands on the back of his neck, playing with his occipital. Your bouncy tits pushed he couldn't handle it any longer, his eyes wide. Then you added. "Fuck me 一Sher, please," the boy shouted. His cock reacted as soon as your words left your mouth.

His hands, which had been harmless at first, had forcibly sought your hips. His lips, which had been clamped tight only a moment before you swallowed his entire cock, had found your neck. And his eyes, which had been open and horrified at first, had closed and found pleasure in contact.

As Sherlock devoured your body, you whimpered. He finally opened his eyes and found your breasts in his lips, sucking on them till they hardened and became erect. His palms were on each of your butt cheeks, and he had moved up the bottom of the dress, revealing your ass.

He moans and becomes more forceful as he squeezes. He lay his head on your chest and dry humped you, saying only "God." before getting down to business. He drew you up and shoved your panties to the side. And you screamed when you felt yourself sliding down the shaft of his cock. Something Sherlock had been hoping to hear for a long time.

Sherlock bounced you up and down on his long cock as you kissed, and it was so disgustingly passionate it was ludicrous. You wrapped your hands around his neck while exchanging licks and saliva. You were pooling him with your moisture, which improved the friction for his cock. He could cum again anytime soon.

You, on the other hand, was screaming assassin. Sherlock's monster was hammering you so hard that the friction between his skin and your clit was going to set you on fire.

Sherlock continued to pound your ass. You felt it acceptable to moan out his name every time he did it, "you like that babe," he murmured huskily. All you could do was moan. 

Pound after pound, you felt like you were being ripped open, but in a nice way; the friction had caught up with you and it was in.

Like a dope, and you were praying for more drug pills. It's very humid inside... Widening your eyes as you couldn't hold back your shaky sob of pleasantries. While Sherlock was busy rubbing your pussy, he made you picture galaxies extending from his tiny room.

You screamed as it smacked you in the exactly right spot, and it hit you hard. Sherlock is riding out your climax, causing him to cum shortly after, and you are completely unaware. “Fuck!” As his dick began to become limp in you, you were dragged to some more kisses. Sherlock huddled for air, his numerous apologetic phrases repeated. He hadn't planned on making out with anyone, which is why the way he apologised made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m sorry ㅡso sorry, you gonna hate me.”

“W- Why?” You tried to get up when his lips met yours to close it, but you resisted even more, “did一 did you cum inside me?”

“Fuck, babe, I hope you’re on birth control.”

Now it's your turn to gasp as you watch the white fluids pouring downward from your centre, a thrilled sensation of lust remaining over there, but you get more frightened as you see it still trickling down onto the couch.

“No… Sherlock. I’m not on the birth control.” 

You fold up Zoe's favourite story book while watching her sleep on your arm and brushing her locks off of her tiny forehead. You realise you're damaging her feelings by confessing the truth about your selfishness, but you just can't do it right now; you can't just talk to her father about this secret, at least for now.

"I can't tell him, little one," you shook your head and blew small puffs of air out of your lungs. It's difficult to conceive that it'll be a disaster so quickly. You instantly began to breakdown and ran out of her room, tripped across the living room, and began to sobbing at the heap on the floor beside the couch.

Hands on your face, body as a whole heated from the immense tension you had been carrying all along after Sherlock returned into your life, gasping, choking on your own tears, and collapsing on the rug. Brought your knees up to your chest … and then you just cried, curled up in that position.

"I'm really sorry... Zoe, mummy really sorry."

tag: @bunny-skz00 @zen003xx @cemak

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers.

<3 Wow, since I've been writing fanfics for years, I have so many to choose from. But let me stick to my reader-insert-focused darker fics that I post on this account.

1:

The Man Who Claimed To Be Yours – Fandom: Joker 2019, Pairing: Arthur Fleck/Joker x (Female) Reader. Explicit with lots of warnings. By far my proudest (and smuttiest?) work.

By far a number one position. Not only do you people seem to love it, I have received so many messages of readers going back to the story for the umpteenth time to reread it all. (And you have no diea how those little messages strengthened me when my health abandoned me). You devour it. And even I have been rereading my own tale several times and enjoyed it. So yes, I definitely want to write an ending to it. I also have plans to have the full story out before Joker 2 comes out.

Fun fact: The entire fic was inspired by the gif I added above)

2:

Pine Cone Child – Fandom: Enola Holmes, Pairing: Enola Holmes/Linthorn (one-sided & Noncon), Enola Holmes & Sherlock Holmes. Explicit with lots of warnings.

I got a big thrill sending these chapters out into the world and found myself on a roll with this fic. The idea came with one scene, of a boy meeting his biological father, and realizing that he had a far more gritty past than he always had assumed. But to get to that chapter, I had to write many more. In the end, that chapter was never posted online. And the chapters I had finished about Enola and her mother visiting Linthorn’s grave and the chapter that was to follow after got lost when my laptop crashed. I was also too ill and too tired to write, so it never reached its end. I am not sure if I will ever finish this one. I think, it is pretty okay as it is. Even if I never got to the ending the whole idea sprouted from in the first placed. For now, it is on hold.

3. Removed Fics/Or old account fics:

The first multi-chapter fic became a success, many years ago. I will not name the title, the quality is shite compared to what I write now (still shite, but different shite). One of the first fandoms I wrote fanfiction in was Inu Yasha. The much-explored ‘Inu Yasha scampers off with Kikyo and Kagome finds comfort in Sesshoumaru’s arms’ was still new, there were about 20 fics or so about this pairing in English. The encouragement I received made me want to keep posting my work. I still receive reviews for these fics.  

4. A deleted Sweeney Todd Smut fic, featuring Sweeney Todd x Lovett’s daughter. I might reupload this one day, perhaps as a reader insert.

But because I want to tag a tale: Have you tried reading my dark romance (aka, Reader let yourself be kidnapped by a slasher guy)  The Chance to Make A Change. Fandom: The Black Phone. Pairing: Albert Shaw ( The Grabber ) x (f) Reader. Explicit. Loads of warnings.

Shared 5:

His – Fandom: Moon Knight, Pairing: Dr. Arthur Harrow x (f) Reader. Mature with warnings.

I am surprised by how much feedback and likes I received on this, even if the numbers of hits and kudos on AO3 are low. But for the short tale it is, I like it. Because it shows a budding relationship over time, cut into short chapters, and has a little evil twist at the end of it. Also, I could totally live with this happening to me, if I were the reader.

Shared 5:

No Family Man – Fandom: Joker 2019, Pairing: Arthur Fleck/Joker x (afab) Reader. Mature with warnings.

Another one of my fics I love to return to, and that was generally received well. It started as two imagines which I then combined. It has lots of personal experience elements in it that to me, make it all the more special. What they are, I will leave for you to guess.

I would love to finish the Princess and the Clown - Joker 2019 fanfic of Arthur Fleck/Joker x Reader I once started. Perhaps rewrite it a little. Same for my Benvolio x Mercutio Hanahaki Story (you Shakespearean lovers might know me of my many Tybalt x Mercutio and Mercutio x basically anyone fics).

I have a few Star Wars Reader Inserts that were never finished but tickle my fancy. Mostly Reader x Kylo Ren or Reader x Hux (or both lol).

By far most of my proudest fanfics have been personal gifts to friends. It is how I started writing when in High School, and I still gift fics for people's birthdays. I especially like the Sherlock Holmes range I did for several friends, in which my friends always ended up being the evil masterminds who outsmarted Sherlock and Watson. But also, because I had illustrations to go along with these fics. <3

But first, I need to finish a whole list of unfinished works: starting with a Crimson Peak inspired modern reader au that has been pending for over 2 years, as well as the Joker fic mentioned on number one. Then there's a summery romantic Arthur Harrow x Reader tale I want to gift to someone on here, and a Harrow Patient x Reader fic that wants to be written in between.

ARGH!

Not to mention the many Arthur Fleck x Reader prompts I have pending. I LOVE YOU, KEEP SENDING ME STUFF <3