#sherlocksoft writes
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Send You To Sleep Satisfied
Geralt x reader drabble
Summary: Geralt can’t sleep. Rather than settling for a restless a night, you offer an easy (and rather more pleasurable) solution.
Author’s notes: This is set at no specific time and has no particular context. I just wanted to give Geralt some comfort. Y’know, in a sexy way.
Warnings/content: nsfw - smut, handjob, gn!reader, exhausted and needy Geralt, extra lil gif at the end 🖤
A large hand slid roughly over your stomach followed by a heavy, muscular arm snaking around your waist and dragging you swiftly backwards.
‘Geralt!’ you exclaimed, your heart racing before you realised it was him, ‘I was almost asleep! You startled me-’
‘M’sorry,’ came his muffled reply, his handsome nose already buried deep in your hair, nuzzling against the nape of your neck. He breathed you in, holding you close and sighing deeply. ‘Can’t sleep.’
Steadying your breath, you shifted within his firm embrace, smiling at the grunt of disapproval you elicited by taking away the comfort of your hair and your back pressed flush to his broad chest.
Another comfort soon replaced this, though.
‘I can help you with that,’ you cooed, watching with delight as his heavily lidded eyes slid shut at the warmth of your fingers slipping past the waistband his tight trousers.
A whispered little ‘Oh-’ slipped from between his pretty parted lips. ‘You… mmh… you don’t need to-’ It was hardly a protest, his voice heavy with lack of sleep yet laced with obvious desire.
You stilled then, his erection steadily growing harder against your now unmoving palm.
His eyes opened, sharp beneath a sudden frown. ‘You don’t need to, but… since you’ve started…’ A bead of precum oozed from his tip causing a whine to escape his throat before he could stop it. His eyes clenched tight shut in shame. ‘Don’t stop?’
A knowing smirk pulled at your lips. Geralt never could resist the promise of a good orgasm when the opportunity presented itself at such a perfect moment as this.
He was too tired to fuck. This, you knew. But you could pleasure him to sleep as he had done for you countless times, his elegant fingers or clever tongue or thick cock working their magic to soothe your exhausted body and allow your tired mind to rest.
Your fingers curled loosely around his length, pumping lazily to begin with, massaging his cock with a hint of tenderness that had him melting.
‘Shh, Geralt, focus on my touch. Float away on the sensation of your pleasure… let me send you to sleep satisfied, relaxed….’ you breathed, easing his tension away with your voice as much as your hand.
His strong fingers grasped at your arm, fingertips driving harder into your flesh as you wanked him faster. You hoped he’d leave bruises, marks you could show him tomorrow that might make him blush. He rarely blushed, but when a flush of crimson powdered his cheeks, it was certainly a pretty sight.
His hips began to rock in time to meet your movements and his breath grew heavy, interspersed with blissful moans. His cock throbbed inside your grip when your thumb swiped over the tip, collecting the thick offering of precum that had steadily built up there.
‘That’s it, I can feel it-’ you breathed, ‘let go.’
His forehead pressed to yours, breath hot and heavy and tingling against your cool lips as his muscles rapidly tensed, his toes curled and his back arched.
‘Fuck!’ he growled through gritted teeth as overwhelming surges of pleasure rushed through his core to bring about his release, and he repeated, in a much smaller voice as the rapture subsided, ‘… fuck…’
As his cock softened, sensitive with aftershocks, gently, you withdrew your hand and sealed your mouth to his.
‘We’ll bathe in the morning, love,’ you whispered with a smile against his lips, not caring a jot about the thick creamy rope that had made a mess of his trousers and stained your arm, sticky against your skin. ‘For now, sleep.’
Geralt grunted. The tell tale signs of sleep began to pull at his features as the rush of his climax fell away to lull him into a peaceful slumber.
He huffed, amused. ‘I’ve slept in worse conditions. Besides-’ a small yawn interrupted him, exhaustion and the bliss of post-orgasm haze slurring his speech slightly as he continued, slowly, ‘in the morning, before anything else… I will be busy… making you scream my name.’
And with that, the calming sound of his low snore took over; the heat that had pooled at your core content to remain there until morning. For now you watched him rest until you were dreaming yourself. You dreamed of him.
#not s f w 💀#geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia smut#geralt smut#geralt comfort#geralt fic#henry cavill#sherlocksoft writes
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The Experiment
Sherlock Holmes x reader
Masterlist
Summary: When you married Sherlock, you discovered a side to him that you would never have expected. A side that was only for you.
Author's notes: See if you can spot the line I included from a Sherlock Holmes story as a nod to Victorian Sherlock… I used a few Victorian terms in this to make it authentic, so on the off chance that you're an historian specialising in Victorian dirty talk, please be kind 😉. This is written with any Victorian Sherlock in mind, but leaning toward Henry.
Warnings/content: nsfw, shameless smut, 18+, f!reader, reader has a vagina, dirty talk (but make it Victorian), first time, marriage, breeding kink, fingering, cream pie, cunnilingus, overstimulation, discussion of safe word, mentions of blow jobs, dom Sherlock if you squint, mentioned aftercare
Marrying a gentleman like Sherlock, there was no surprise that when it came to matters of the marital bed, he was technically as inexperienced as you.
You had been delighted to learn that he had a tendency to live slobbishly from time to time despite scrubbing up exceptionally well; neglecting his hair, sleeping in, wearing his dressing gown all day, not bothering with trifles like what time you ate dinner or who was calling in when his organised chaos took over your home (especially if it was his brother Mycroft).
You were also pleased that he wasn’t a prude — in his line of work you supposed it would be difficult to be completely prudish — because you felt you could comfortably be yourself around him, which seemed such a rare treat for a woman living in these days.
But the one thing you were utterly surprised by, was the way he spoke to you about sex. And even more surprising; how completely crazed he seemed for you. It went against everything you expected of him while courting, and definitely against everything that the general public would ever imagine of him.
Always treating you entirely properly, you’d expected an awkward and perhaps uncomfortable encounter upon consummating your marriage, sure that he would not have time or care for physical affection, especially since he usually displayed such an obvious aversion to the touch of others.
On the contrary, he seemed to have a great deal of confidence as well as an intricate insight into the topic, even upon your first time together. His approach set every nerve in your body aflame before sating you completely and providing a generous offering of his pearly seed to establish itself in your belly.
When you found yourself atop your newly shared bed, at first you worried your ankles may be revealed as your dress lifted above your boots, but he didn’t seem at all phased. You supposed people did see one another in the nude once they were married, and although the thought had been eating away at your nerves, but Sherlock didn’t seem nearly as on edge, which went a long way to soothing your worries.
You’d seen this look of his before. His sparkling eyes devoured you as though you were a new and exciting mystery to be solved, and knowing him as you did, he would no doubt be filled with drive fit for a thorough investigation.
‘Do not worry, darling, I shan’t strip you of your beautiful dress just yet,’ he soothed, caressing your cheek before shedding himself of his jacket and loosening his ascot. ‘Let us start slow, we do have all night after all.’
He moved down to sit beside where you laid upon the bed, and his fingers worked to remove your boots, sending shivers tingling up your legs as his flesh eventually brushed against yours.
You watched him carefully as he rolled his sleeves up, wondering what on earth he was preparing for. You began to feel entirely like one of his experiments, and you supposed that in a way, since this was his first time too, you were. The thought made your lips curl in amusement and your heart race.
‘Have you researched sex, Sherlock?’ you asked bashfully as he lifted your skirts further and ran his fingertips, featherlight and only slightly shaky, up along the contours of your inner thighs.
Gently, he pushed your legs apart, fingers hooking under the soft fabric of your bloomers as that gorgeous curl loosened to fall over his forehead.
‘Of course I have,’ he said simply, still entirely focussed on contributing to your growing arousal. ‘One cannot possibly get something of such delicate balance down to an exact science without sufficient data… just like one cannot perform an exact art without practise. And practice, we shall…’
Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson at the imagery of him studying indecent books with your pleasure in mind. You were overcome with an unusual desire to squeeze your thighs together, but ignored it in favour of feeling entirely safe in his apparently capable hands. Hands that were slipping your bloomers down past your knees and dropping them unceremoniously to the floor.
His fingers began to explore your slick folds, not at all helping to cool the red hot blush that powdered your cheeks.
‘Oh, how I’ve dreamed of bedding you, my darling,’ he breathed, settling properly beside you on the bed. ‘I’m going to satisfy you in ways you cannot fathom. Don’t be shy, you’re doing so well for me.’
Your unexpected cry of pleasure tore through the otherwise silent room, his finger now slowly pumping in and out of your heat. You gripped his arm as if holding on for dear life, fearful that you might otherwise float away in this unexpected haze of bliss.
‘You feel like silk,’ he praised, voice weakening slightly. ‘That’s it, hold on to me, you’re safe. You’re going to come on my fingers first, my needy little minx. Focus on how they fill you, how they caress your inner walls. Does it excite you as it excites me?’
You nodded. Your mind was fuzzy with pleasure like you’d never known, so much so that answering verbally seemed a certain impossibility.
‘I have fantasised about taking you on my fingers,’ he whispered, low and deep into your ear, ‘how divine you would sound as you give in to your pleasure, my name slipping hungrily from between those pretty lips.’
He removed his finger then, and a whine of protest erupted from somewhere within you. You just felt so empty without his elegant digit sliding in and out of your swollen entrance, dragging against something inside that made you absolutely ravenous for more — but a new sensation soon took over and you felt disappointed no longer.
His slick coated fingers dragged up through your folds and you shuddered, all the nerve endings in your body, it seemed, set alight at once. But when he reached the throbbing nub at the apex of your sex, there was suddenly ten times the bliss you’d felt before and your body jolted upward as your scream pierced the room.
‘Ah, it seems it’s not so hard to find after all,’ he said casually, ‘I summised that most men were simply to lazy to bother with this little trick, and perhaps I was onto something. But look at you darling, how you tremble for me while I massage your pretty, soaked flower. What man wouldn’t want to witness their love so utterly wanton for their touch? To feel her blatant arousal at his very fingertips?’
Your mind had turned all but blank, the sensations shooting through your body overwhelming you as his fingers danced with perfect pressure against your clitoris.
‘Sh-Sherlock- I- oh!’
‘I know, darling, I know, you need to come for me, don’t you?’
Swiftly, he pressed his thumb to your clit and slipped a finger easily back inside, fucking you harder and faster than before, watching with delight as you unravelled beneath him.
As the lewd slapping of his fingers fucking into your sopping sex filled the room he, quite pragmatically albeit with a much darker voice than that which he uses during his usual experiments, talked you through your release.
‘This pleasure will soon overwhelm you, culminating in your orgasm. If all goes to plan, your quim will rapidly clench around my finger and there’ll be something like sparks at your clitoris, then you’ll feel a few moments of indescribable ecstasy...’
Your own fingers snapped around his wrist, feeling his steady yet vigorous movements, and you wondered how on earth anything could feel better than this, right now.
And then it hit.
‘Ah, yes, there it is. That’s it! Yes, come for me! Come for me!’
His name did indeed tear from your parted lips, shaky and breathy and desperate, and then his fingers began to slow, easing you down from your high until he gently withdrew them.
Your eyes closed as you relaxed back against the pillows, your legs shaking. You heard a humming sound that pulled you back to the present, though, and glanced across at your husband to see him gleefully sucking your slick from his fingers.
‘It is frankly a disservice to the entire human race to consider that act depraved. Mmh. And you taste like the sweetest nectar, darling... tell me, did it feel good?’
You nodded, biting your lips together.
‘There’s no shame in it, my love. Especially if it feels good.’
‘It felt exquisite,’ you breathed, punctuated with a blissful sigh, and Sherlock smiled broadly. A rare sight. ‘But what about you?’
‘I do not wish to rush you. I will be truthful, however — after watching that beautiful display, my root is as solid as a rock. Whilst I've no intention of pressuring you, I will not turn you down if you’re sure you feel sufficiently ready for me.’
‘I… I think I do,’ you whispered, and you loosened your grip from the layers of your skirt to rest a hand delicately on the broad expanse of his chest.
He gasped at the simple affection, and the reaction caused your lower lips, still throbbing with the after effects of your climax, to quiver.
‘May I?’ you asked carefully, and he nodded. Your hand trailed down gradually, until it reached his lower stomach.
Sherlock’s breath quickened, and you pushed lower still, cupping his erection.
‘Ah- ohhh-’
His eyebrows raised and his eyes fell closed as you stroked his length softly and slowly, but before you could find a proper rhythm, he quickly snapped his hips away, grabbing your hand firmly in his as he leant in to kiss you with fierce passion.
As he pulled away from your lips, he muttered, ‘I hoped to inject you with my seed, but I fear that if you continue touching me for a moment longer, the only thing filled with it will be my undergarments.’
‘Then please, Sherlock, take me-’
And take you, he did. Within a second you were pushed onto your back, and he was settling between your legs, hurriedly unfastening his trousers to release his steadily leaking arousal.
As he carefully pushed himself into you, your warmth enveloping his length, an expression of sheer bliss relaxed his handsome features.
‘Am I too big, darling?’ he panted. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘No- please, don’t stop, Sherlock, I want to be filled with your cock- filled to the brim with your blow-’
He smirked at your words. You mustn't be quite so innocent if you were using words like that.
Sherlock began to steadily roll his hips. Your core burned with an unusual pain, a pain that made you crave more.
His forehead pressed to yours, your hot breath mingling with his each time he thrust gently into you and let out a sweet little whimper.
‘I told you I’d- fantasised about- pleasuring you- ha- ahhh- I can’t deny- I’ve thought of many acts, some of which you might consider- mmh- indecent- but each flood of bliss I give to you is- ha- simply the perfect result of an experiment I’ve been dying to carry out since I met you, and- ohhh-’
His voice was so breathy and shaky now, you knew that he wouldn’t last much longer, but you wanted to give him a taste of how he’d made you feel. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels into his back, pulling him closer and signalling for him to go harder.
‘Do you- ohh- do you w-want my children, darling? Do you want me to- ah!- unleash my potent seed within these t-tender walls and- give you a child?’
‘I want nothing less,’ you breathed, thrilled at his words, and at that he snapped his hips unrelentingly, snaking a hand between your writhing bodies to massage your sensitive clit once again, and Sherlock relished in the moan his touch elicited.
‘Clever little- ohh- trick, isn’t it?’ he just about managed, and less than a second later, came with force inside you.
Your walls tightened, contracting around his thick cock to milk him of every last drop, your tightening walls taking him to a plane of existence he’d never before explored.
This orgasm felt different for you, you noted, and if either of you had been coherent enough to discuss the matter you were sure he would ask you to write it down and keep a record detailing those differences.
Nevertheless, your second peak was just as strong, and you fell weak once again as Sherlock’s seed dribbled onto your thighs and he rolled off you, panting.
‘Darling- that was- oh, it was-’ he muttered, half delirious. ‘You feel- good god, you feel-’
‘I came again,’ you admitted, proud this time, knowing it would please him.
‘I know. I felt it,’ he smirked, and then, almost as if he read your mind, ‘did it feel different?’
‘Yes,’ you chuckled.
‘Oh how wonderful! I should write a monograph on the matter. Only for your eyes of course — although it could benefit at least half of the population if there were more literature on women’s pleasure.’
‘So, a filthy love letter just for me, with a touch of the scientific?’
‘You understand me so well,’ he cooed, stroking your cheek. ‘This is precisely why I adore you.’ And suddenly, there was a sparkle in his eyes that you’d seen when he reached a breakthrough. ‘Tell me, have you ever heard of cunnilingus?’
You shook your head. ‘Not… really. I may have gleaned a… basic understanding-’
‘It’s precisely the act I mentioned may be considered indecent, but I would very much like the opportunity to try it with you.’
‘Tell me about it?’ you breathed excitedly.
‘Perhaps it would be easier to show you. Do you trust me?’
‘Yes. Do it,’ you said eagerly, hungry for as much as he was willing to give you.
‘Consider this another experiment… if you dislike it, you must tell me and I shall end it, however my understanding is that if it works, you will not be entirely in your right mind so we must set a code in place.’
‘How about a word that we don’t associate with sexual activities?’ you suggested.
‘Precisely. “Mycroft” it is.’
You burst into a simultaneous fit of laughter, until he silenced you with another, fervent kiss.
‘You might need to loosen your corset for this one. Providing three orgasms in restrictive clothing is no way to treat one’s wife. And what if there are four, or five? I would never forgive myself.’
Taking his advice, you began to strip, soon revealing your breasts to him.
‘Oh, darling, what a perfect start...’ He wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked lightly, his fingers toying with the other. He was pleased to feel you squirm beneath him and jolts of pleasure shot from your chest to your core and back again.
‘Oh- I never knew they could- mmh- feel like that…’ you groaned, but once again he left you cold to move onto something new, shimmying lower to settle his face at the apex of your thighs.
His tongue lashed warm and wet against your sex, circling your nub, exploring your folds and lapping at your entrance to collect your combined juices.
The way you shuddered had him fighting off a second erection. Not now — he needed to concentrate, and was hoping that with this new method he could give you multiple orgasms in one sitting. His own pleasure could wait.
He hummed into your quim as though he were enjoying a long awaited meal, and you quickly fell apart once again as his hums of delight vibrated through your core.
‘Sherlock,’ you whined, ‘Oh, Sherlock…’
‘One more?’ Came his muffled response, his deep growl reverberating through your weakened body. It didn’t take long for another peak to take over, your mind completely clouded in a haze of overstimulation.
‘I think it’s time for a break now, my love,’ he muttered softly, coming up to hold you, his pretty lips coated in your juices. ‘I rather think that this has been an experiment I would take pleasure in repeating regularly, if you’ll allow me.’
‘I’d be delighted,’ you sighed dreamily, already feeling the pull of sleep.
‘I will also mention that, as soon as you’re comfortable enough, I would rather like to experiment with my own orgasms. See how they feel inside your hand… or your mouth…’
‘Yes, yes I would… I would like…’
‘Shh… for now, it’s time to sleep. Rest, my darling wife you’ve done so well for me.’
You nodded, and that was the last you remembered of the evening.
A thin blade of warm sunlight woke you in the morning. You found yourself comfortably wrapped inside his shirt. He’d cleaned you up after you drifted off to sleep, and you rose feeling refreshed and relaxed.
Creaking open the bedroom door, you heard his handsome voice floating through. He had a client, and when you peeked through the gap you could see that your husband looked impeccably well put together. Unlike you; if anyone saw you like this… you dreaded to think. You smiled to yourself, though, wondering what his stoic looking client would think if he knew what Sherlock had spent all night doing before meeting with him. You bet Sherlock could teach him a thing or two.
You could only hope this case would be too boring for him so he would return to your bed, for you entirely planned to take Sherlock into your mouth the moment you were able. To taste him. To give him as many releases as he had given you. To see him entirely, blissfully weakened by pleasure…
#not s f w 💀#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock holmes x you#sherlock holmes smut#sherlock x reader#sherlock smut#henry cavill sherlock holmes#victorian sherlock#henry cavill#sherlocksoft writes
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The Experiment pt. 2
Sherlock Holmes x reader
The Experiment pt. 1 // Masterlist
Summary: Sherlock needs something new to keep him occupied. You have the perfect answer to his problems.
Author’s notes: couldn’t resist writing part 2, which was also requested after I wrote part 1. In my Victorian dirty talk research I discovered that the term ‘blow job’ comes from the Victorian term for cum: ‘blow,’ and how could I not make the most of that information??
Warnings/content: nsfw - smut, f!reader, blow job, hand job, marriage, first times (Sherlock’s first blow job), discussion of safe word, sub!Sherlock vibes if you squint
Upon returning to 221B, you found Sherlock barely out of bed; half-dressed and dropped down onto the nearest armchair, hair mussed from sleep and face sullen.
He hadn’t had a case for over a week, and whilst at first he had taken to spending his free time gladly tending to your desires, you did need to leave the house from time to time to run errands and see to your other commitments.
It was moments such as these that the ennui really set in. Sherlock needed something to occupy him, and if he couldn't have you, he needed something new to excite him, but whatever that would be hadn't yet arrived on his doorstep.
‘Sherlock, darling, I’m home,’ you chimed carefully, not wanting to startle him out of his melancholy.
His eyes lit up for a moment before he saw that you were already busy with the books you’d collected, and he dropped back into the chair.
You were eyeing him, though, surreptitiously as you flicked through one of your new novels pretending to admire the illustrations while really you were admiring him.
‘Remember our wedding night?’ you mused, attempting to sound entirely casual.
‘Fondly,’ he sighed dreamily. If only he could feel the excitement of that night anew, the thrill of learning your exquisite body for the first time.
‘I’ve been doing some research,’ you went on, finally snapping shut your book.
'Oh?' An eyebrow raised, interest piqued.
‘There was something you mentioned that night that I read up on since I’ve been wholly unable to distract my mind away… it's something I rather fancy I’d like to try.’
Your voice had turned sultry, immediately capturing Sherlock’s attention, his head snapping up so that he could examine your current state and gather your precise intentions.
Pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, breath quickening, he thought, and at that, heat stirred in his belly, coursing to his core.
‘You told me you would like to experiment with your own orgasms.’ Shivers crept up your neck, not yet quite used to speaking in such a way in the company of a gentleman. ‘Do you remember? You wondered how it might feel to climax in my hand... or my mouth…’ your tongue advanced slowly around your parted lips rather pointedly, eyes locked on his.
‘And how do you propose we conduct this experiment?’ he panted, beginning to tremble.
‘Sherlock… I'll need to taste you.’
His heart began to race and his eyelashes fluttered, unsure where to look. Your lust for him often threw him from his place of comfort. To him, it was ever an unexpected thrill to be the object of your desire, but never an unwelcome one.
‘Where… how do I-’ he started, cheeks flushing with shame at how utterly libidinous he felt for you.
‘Lay down for me, here, on the chaise,’ you beamed, thrilled that he was ready for a new experience with you.
As he peeled himself from the little armchair to stretch his long body out, he propped himself up on a cushion so he could observe what you would do to him.
You knelt between his ankles to slide your fingers up past his knees and over his strong thighs. ‘Spread your legs a little more… that’s it,’ you encouraged as he settled into position, one foot landing firmly on the floor, grounding him. From what you'd read, you supposed he may need it.
‘I’m going to unfasten your breeches and take you in my hand first,’ you said softly as your fingers got to work on unfastening the buttons keeping him decent. ‘Only briefly, though, for this time, I would like to suck your manhood and have you spill every last drop of your blow down my throat until you’re left limp.’
Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat.
‘Remember the code word?’ you breathed, eyes growing wide with wonder, ever fascinated with his size as your fingers released his already throbbing arousal and wrapped delicately around him, pumping lazily.
Sherlock nodded quickly, eager to begin. ‘Mycroft,’ he uttered breathily, ‘if I don’t enjoy the sensation, or it becomes too much, I say it once, and you'll stop.’
‘Precisely. And if you do enjoy it?’ you smirked up at him, gripping a little more firmly as you stroked him, lips now so close to the tip of his length he could feel the warmth of your breath against it.
‘Oh-ah-mmh… then I… ah- I will cry your name… over and over until I have- mmh!- no breath left in my… oh!- body.’
‘Understood.’
Your delightfully plump, wet lips finally brushed against the flesh of his tip, parting to suckle at the precum that oozed steadily out onto your lapping tongue.
Sherlock cried out, his body jolting at the overwhelming fever that spread rapidly through his body at the heat of your mouth on him. He tried to think through it, tried to memorise the sensations, but nothing had quite come close to this when it came to his pleasure.
He'd fucked you every which way one could imagine, finding easy release in the depths of your own pleasure just by knowing that he was the one to cause it. But this, entirely focussed on his needs, was a whole other game.
He couldn't grasp any of the thoughts swirling around his pleasure-addled mind, couldn't focus on anything but how you felt, wet and warm around his root, devouring him like a starved woman presented with a delicious meal.
And a delicious meal, he was. His cock swelled within the passion of your mouth as you took him in further still, your massaging fingers at the base, compensating for what you couldn’t fit. Remembering what you’d read in that filthy little book you'd been keeping secret, you bobbed your head and hollowed your cheeks, and you sucked, gently at first but slowly building to something more intense that made it harder and harder for him to find any semblance of focus.
You gazed up at him, eyes sparkling with your own arousal, to see him completely lost in pleasure, one elegant hand pressed to his forehead in delightful despair, the other gripping the edge of the cushion he laid back on so firmly that his knuckles had long since turned white.
You hummed, appreciating his weight of his heavy cock against your tongue as you felt a wetness grow between your thighs. The vibration your dirty little sound sent down his shaft caused him to whine out a string of incomprehensible obscenities, and his hips to buck up involuntarily as he fought to keep his eyes open and his head lifted enough to see you.
He’d never felt so safe with such a lack of control over his body, every nerve alight with passion and every muscle weak with complete pleasure. He couldn't think, but he didn't need to. He knew somewhere in the depths of this rapture that you would take good care of him, think through his pleasure for him, and finish him spectacularly. There was one other thing he knew for certain - one thought that pierced the haze of euphoria clouding his every thought - that his peak would come all too soon.
He couldn't fight it, he felt too week with imminent satisfaction to try to last any longer. He wanted this feeling to last forever, but also to explode between your lips and reach paradise all at once.
He released his grip on the seat cushion, and reached, trembling, for the nape of your neck. If his eyes must insist on clenching shut in unfathomable pleasure, he could at least follow your movements with touch, perhaps that would be just as enjoyable as watching.
It was.
At the exact moment that his fingers connected with your neck and slid up into your hair, he erupted with a shout, emptying his seed into your mouth and down your throat while your tongue circled his sensitive tip each time you moved upwards, and massaged his shaft as you slid back down.
Your name tore from his lips, a guttural cry that rang in your ears as he came down from his climax, breathless and groaning in exertion.
With a final lap to clean up the last traces of his peak, you sat back on your heels and smiled, proud of yourself for getting him off with such excellent results on your first attempt.
Sherlock was still very much floating on another plane of existence as his length twitched with aftershocks and softened upon your palm. You pushed up so settle over him on the chaise, appreciating his post-orgasm glow from a few inches above his handsome face.
‘A success?’ you chuckled, connecting your lips to his so he could taste himself upon them.
He nodded, opening his eyes slightly with an uneven smile meant as a silent thank you. ‘But I… I couldn’t focus on a thing. Nothing, that is, except for your mouth being stuffed full of me. Tell me you-’
Pride swelled in your chest. ‘I memorised every minute reaction.’
‘That’s my girl,’ he breathed. ‘You should write it down.’
‘Oh, I will,’ you promised, ‘in great, explicit detail. But first, another?’
His head fell back as you moved your hand gently over his sex, feeling it grow with arousal once again, and with that, a knock sounded at the door.
Disappointment flooded you. ‘You'll probably want to get that. It could be a case-’
‘They can wait,’ Sherlock whispered, waving his hand lazily. ‘I'm in the middle of a very important experiment for which we need more data...’
#not s f w 💀#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock holmes x you#sherlock holmes smut#sherlock x reader#sherlock smut#henry cavill sherlock holmes#victorian sherlock#henry cavill#sherlocksoft writes
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Spicy Sherlock headcanons
Sherlock Holmes x reader NSFW headcanons
Masterlist
Authors notes: as last time, I’m writing this with any version of Sherlock in mind, but that gif was too good to resist. Very much feeling a need to explore Victorian dirty talk in a short Drabble soon after this… there’s something about being absolutely filthy with a Victorian gentleman that just 🔥
Warnings: NSFW — smut, virgin Sherlock, switch Sherlock (needy sub/hungry soft dom), oral sex, vaginal sex, handjobs, fingering, cream pie, thigh riding, cock warming, teasing, edging, dirty talk, size kink
Sherlock has never been a particularly sexual being, always too focussed on the pragmatic to pay much mind to the whims of the vessel that is his body
He was nervous the first time. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was far out of his comfort zone and anxious that you would be dissatisfied with him (or that he wouldn’t like the experience and leave you even more disappointed)
He’s used to utilising the skills he knows he’s good at. How can he be confident with sex when he’s never even learned to pleasure himself properly?
Over time he learns his body though, alongside learning every inch of yours
Even the first time he slips his finger inside, he soon comes to realise that your body is simply another puzzle, and if he can find the right combination places to touch, the correct pressure and speed, he will solve it in no time
Almost cums in his undergarments when you come undone on just his fingers
He’s pleasantly surprised to discover the way you moan and gasp for him, and how this guides him in his endeavour to satisfy you
He’s also surprised to find that sex with you feels incredible, giving his mind a short break and a boost of pleasure he’s never considered would be useful until now
Constantly and absolutely in awe of your reactions to his touch, and even more so to his cock. He feels a spark of excitement when you tell him he’s too big to fit, and another when you cry out in pleasure-pain as he slowly slides inside and stretches you with a delightful burn, whispering, ‘That’s it, darling, you’re doing so well, taking me all the way in that tight little cunt.’
Speaking of the way he talks to you, he absolutely delights in dirty talk, especially when he’s using such vulgar words compared to his usual vocabulary. It makes your blood boil with lust to hear him talk like that (it’s a little bit like when a person who always wears a suit puts a casual t shirt on and somehow becomes even more attractive)
Will whisper something filthy in your ear when you least expect it and delight in the blush it causes to burn your cheeks (and the heat he knows it’s sending rushing to your core (basic science))
When he’s on a case and you offer assistance, he forms an idea. You end up between his legs under the desk, warm lips wrapped around his throbbing, leaking cock as he tries to focus on the task at hand
It soon becomes unbearable, and he has to stop his work, allowing his mind to switch off for a few blissful moments as he falls back in his chair, spreading his legs and bucking his hips, fingers slipping into your hair to feel the movement of your ministrations until the orgasm that rips through him resets his mind
As you wipe your mouth and tuck his softening length back into his trousers, you hear him muttering away, scribbling something on a scrap of paper and you know he’s finally reached the conclusion he needed, with your help
Don’t feel left out though, at the end of the case he will eat you out like a starved man over and over until you’re trembling and he’s moaning into your slick folds
He’s pretty sure he invented edging. When you accompany him away from Baker Street for an investigation and have a frustratingly quiet time, instead he ends up using the time away to keep you simmering on the edge of orgasm, telling you he will only let you cum when you get home
The train ride back is torture but it’s so worth it when you get into the flat and he pushes you up against the door finally taking you. Later writes a monograph on The Science of Sporadic Pleasure
When he gains more sexual confidence, he generally has two modes: needy sub, and hungry soft dom
Needy sub Sherlock is what you get when he’s loosing confidence in a case, or when he’s between cases and growing bored. He seeks reassurance in your touch, whimpering as you slip your hand into his trousers to bring him off, gripping the sheets and begging as you ride him slowly, the measured movement of your hips both hypnotising and torturous
He will lay with you afterwards, safe in your arms, fingers gripping onto you just as hard as when his climax was nearing, whimpering as your stroke his messy hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear while his high subsides
Hungry soft dom Sherlock comes out to play when he’s excited, when he’s pulled off a dramatic reveal that got his blood pumping, or when he’s so close to figuring out the answer to something, he knows he just needs that little push to get him there — and now he understands what’s so great about orgasms, one of those will do nicely to help him on his way
He also knows you like it when he’s a little rougher, and takes immense pleasure in satisfying you that way, particularly if he’s been busy lately
He slams into you mercilessly, growls muffled against the crook of your neck as you hold onto him for dear life. Between moans of how good you are for him, how exquisite your cunt feels around his cock, how only you can make him feel like this, he mutters the other thoughts that flash through his brilliant mind lie puzzle pieces
Just before he empties his seed inside you, as his climax builds, everything starts to come together in his mind. He has his lightbulb moment just as his peak hits, and he cries out the answer in a guttural, breathy shout while you clench around him
He holds you close for a moment as his thick cum drips down your thighs, thanking you profusely and making sure you’re not hurt, that you’re satisfied and comfortable before taking off to finish what he’s been working toward
If he’s half dressed, you sometimes need to remind him to straighten up as he’s frantically grabbing what he needs before leaving the house, the telltale signs of a half buttoned shirt poking out from a ruffled waistcoat, untied cravat and open fly — even Lestrade could figure that one out without help
When he returns, he kisses you passionately for what feels like hours, languid het firry, grateful that you’re so patient with him, that what you do for him is something no one else could
‘I’m sorry for using you earlier, my love,’ he breathes apologetically, ‘allow me to make it up to you?’ And he does just that, spending the evening entirely focussed on your pleasure
More often than you might think he’s happy for you to use him for your own pleasure, lying on the little couch and beckoning you with a lazy finger to climb on top
‘I know I’ve been absent, darling, and I really must continue my work but I simply cannot rest a moment longer without giving you a mind shattering orgasm. Ride my thigh for me while I think thingsn through, there’s a good girl.’
When he’s feeling playful, he will encourage you to sit on his cock while he’s at his desk, having you warm him until you’re squirming to rock your hips, but he will only shift his own hips slightly when he’s able to continue his work without your whining distracting him. He has to grip your hips hard to keep you still
And while he’s pausing for thought, his fingers might just slip down to rub your clit for a short while before he resumes his research
Delightfully vocal, especially when he’s particularly horny. He’s never pleasured himself enough to learn to keep quiet, so he just lets it out and it’s enough to alert the whole of Baker Street
Never ever leaves you dissatisfied
#not s f w 💀#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock holmes x you#sherlock holmes smut#sherlock holmes headcanons#sherlock holmes#henry cavill sherlock holmes#victorian sherlock#any sherlock#sherlocksoft writes
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Soft Sherlock Headcanons
Sherlock Holmes x reader fluff and comfort
Masterlist
Authors notes: I’ve been a Sherlock Holmes fan for years upon years, but this is the first time I’ve written him. It’s written with any Sherlock in mind but I’ve been particularly taken with Henry Cavill recently
Warnings: mildly sexually suggestive at the end, tobacco mention
Sherlock kisses you with fierce passion when he gets a spark of inspiration and is momentarily excited about a breakthrough in a case. He’s vanished the next moment, already ten steps ahead of where he was a moment ago, but his soft lips and the traces of his strong hands gripping your cheeks leaves your head spinning
When he’s struggling with a piece of the puzzle, he needs you just as much. Although he often requires silence in these moments, solitude isn’t always preferable. He will occasionally pull you to him and guide you to lay on his chest in complete silence, the pattern of your breathing and the weight of you against him soothing him endlessly as his mind works overtime
Melts when you make notes on his ramblings so he can revisit thoughts he would have otherwise discarded. You know this because his mouth fleetingly curls into a smile and he exhales slowly before resuming his usual pace
You’ll catch him watching you on occasion, when he’s supposed to be breaking some code or other and you think he’s still working on it, but actually he finished with that half an hour ago and, curiosity sated, has been gazing at you lovingly since
Nuzzles into your neck when he actually makes it to bed, your warmth and scent calming him immeasurably. He never realises how touch starved he is until his mind isn’t occupied with riddles and mysteries and your body feels so soft against his
His scent varies depending on where he’s been investigating, which tobacco he’s used, what he’s experimented with in his makeshift lab, and whether he’s been dressing in disguise. But there are always staple scents underpinning his aroma; white musk, honey and something smoky with a slightly bitter twist of ink
When he’s bored, he will find ways to occupy himself with you whilst trying his hardest not to appear needy. It always fails, however, and usually ends up with you both tangled together on the little sofa, whispering sweet nothings, giggling and kissing like lovesick teenagers
When he’s feeling sentimental, he calls you his Little Problem, because despite being far from problematic to him, he’s endlessly fascinated with you
Never believes you when you tell him he’s handsome, particularly when he’s been wearing pyjamas for three days and hasn’t bothered to comb his hair, but your extra little touches and kisses go a long way to convincing him that at least you believe it to be true
When he’s finding a social situation tricky, he surreptitiously grasps your hand in his. No one else can see, but the reassurance of your fingers squeezing his back makes his breath even out and his heart slow down
Adores the tender moments of domesticity that you share. They’re all too rare with his erratic schedule, but you bring him tea in a morning when he doesn’t want to get out of bed, or lovingly help him dress with gentle fingers carefully buttoning up his shirt, or smooth his hair down with a smile at his soft, natural curls, and he practically swoons
Always having being a fan of A Touch of The Dramatic™, he’s a hopeless romantic when he has the energy to pour into spoiling you, pulling out all the stops to make you feel special and loved. He knows that his work can make you feel lonely sometimes, so he likes to balance that out when he can with his attention solely focussed on you for a while
After a particularly taxing case, he loves nothing more than to hibernate with you. It starts with a hot bath, laying together in the silky water for hours as blissful silence washes over him, counteracting the overload of his previously racing mind
When he gathers enough energy, he whispers in a low grumble, ‘I’ll always come back to you, darling. You know that, don’t you? No matter where a case takes me, I’ll always return.’
Then, if you encourage him, he will join you for a meal before bed, where he can finally sleep soundly, relaxed in your arms — but not before spending a few more hours relishing in your touch (and your reaction to his)
#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock holmes x you#sherlock holmes headcanons#sherlock holmes fluff#sherlock holmes comfort#soft sherlock holmes#henry cavill sherlock holmes#sherlock holmes#victorian sherlock#any sherlock#sherlocksoft writes
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