#ɪ ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇxᴛ ﹣﹣﹣﹙ answered. ﹚

[gjengivelse]

tag dump 2 / ?      →   ooc / rp specific

[decrypteurrarchive]

tag dump 2 / ?   →   ooc / rp

[toldabetterstory-archived]

✎

✎: you miss me

Dear Molly,

Sentiment has never been a strong suit of mine, as you perfectly well know. When I began writing you these letters, I had framed it in my mind as a logical task. Attempted to separate the calculated move with the emotional response. In truth, this letter wasn’t part of the plan. I feared that if I allowed myself to think feel deeply at a time like this, that I would be vulnerable. Susceptible to failure due to a chemical defect known as love.

I do, Molly. I do love, even if it’s not in the romantisied way you wish for and deserve. I also know that I don’t deserve to do so. I know you must have a lot going mixed feelings about what I have done and what I might be up to. There is a good chance that you might never want to open to this one; perhaps you’ll never reach that state.

However, if you ever do — I hope perhaps this can make up a little for the anger you felt by my disappearance. I cannot tell you where I went or why; in truth I don’t know if I will ever come back. I just want you to know that, despite anything that might lead you to believe the contrary --- I did care about you Molly. I trusted you and you mattered. Our friendship, even if you might not have categorized it as such, was important and perhaps I should have tended to it more. 

The point I am trying to make, is that I want you to believe me in my next statement, because if you are reading this letter than it means that you miss me: I just want you to know that I miss you too. I miss the morgue, the ginger cat hairs that lightly coated everything. Even at my worst and blackest of moods; you were always eager to help me. Even as I took advantage of your kindness, something I do hold guilt over, I was grateful for it. Perhaps, these letters are more sentimental that I thought. Perhaps I wished to make it up to you someway. 

I should have been better, I just was never very good at knowing how. I wish you were here, sometimes you appear as the voice of reason in my mind. That’s not the kind of thing you can casually say to a person --- but it doesn’t feel so strange to enclose it in a letter. This is what I mean, you matter to me. When I’m stuck or in trouble, your voice is in my mind. It helps me think. Helps me focus. When I was shot, it was you who appeared to me and helped me save my own life. I owe my life to you because you’ve always held it at a higher value than I do. 

I hope one day you can forgive me, I don’t know anymore if this letter will bring comfort or cause you more distress. Maybe it’s unavoidable to have both.

SH.

[toldabetterstory-archived]

15.

Smut Starter Call - M/F: 15

Damn Mycroft; serves him right you thought as you climbed into the back of his car, holding the door out for Molly. You had demanded a ride home, done with the people & boring conversation inside — only to be told that you would not be taken home until 10 o'clock as the agreement ( one you had your arm twisted into agreeing to ), so you could either ‘grow up or sit in the car & pout’. The answer had been obvious, so you had been sure to crack a window so keep oxygen flowing into the vehicle. For a bit, you two had just sat & talked. Then you had stopped talking, perhaps encouraged by the wine or the want to take your mind off of the party inside — possibly both. Your jacket discarded carelessly onto the floor of the vehicle, fingers carding through hair, tongues engaged in a friendly duel, reaching for one another. Previous sexual encounters had been enjoyable, but filled with the uncomfortable barriers of inexperience & controlling his senses. Sex appeared to be something less calculated & more instinctual; you had never been good at turning off your mind. However, right now your transport was certainly reacting positively; hearts racing as arousal swelled in your lower extremities. A reaction that couldn’t be help as hands mapped out the body of Molly Hooper.

Words spilling into her mouth & overflowing out them, intending to make your intentions quite clear. “ molly… ” your words interrupted by delectable kiss swollen lips & it’s all you can do not to bite down them. “ …molly, i would really like to have sex with you right now in this car.“ Testingly, you place a hand on her thigh where her skirt has lifted a bit — awaiting a sign to be allowed to venture further. The answer comes almost immediately & you don’t ask twice.

Unlike before, where Molly had guided everything, there is something grounding about being the one in controlthat encourages you . Hands caress her thighs, sliding underneath her skirt as you slide off onto the floor, kneeling in front of her. Long fingers brushing curiously across the elastic band of underwear, thumbs swiping across — exploring & reacquainting themselves with this newer area of Molly. Lips brush against her inner thigh, more a nuzzle than anything before your fingers hook into the band and slowly pull. The fabric falls loosely into your hands once it’s released from underneath her, guiding it past her thighs and over her knee until it makes itself at home on the floor next to your jacket. Your hands glide back up her legs, her skirt bunching at her hips. Your eyes shine in the dark moonlight as they look back up at her; she has never looked better. “ i’ve never done this so feedback is going to be very important here, ” you muse, nudging her knees apart with your nose “ the clearer the better so please, don’t hold back… ” if all went well, the entire ensemble inside would know what you were doing in your brother’s car & you don’t care. Serves him right, you think before your forefinger makes a teasing swipe across her labia.

[toldabetterstory-archived]

{{ -- 28! :3 }}

Smut Starter Call - M/M: 28

Sensation flooded your senses, as a hand pressed against your exposed chest. It doesn’t restrain you, as you may have feared — instead it steadies & keeps you grounded. You know this hand, you trust this hand. This is what keeps the sensory overload at bay. Your own arms feel useless as your brain begins to shut down ( despite any efforts to stop it from doing so ), one rests under your head in support while another has snaked underneath him in a mindless attempt to hold onto him. It’s as if there’s the fear that if you let go, he will leave & this will stop. Maybe you had been too tightly wound because you could feel the tension dissipate; gladly letting yourself gladly sink into the sea of pleasure caused by the Detective Inspector.

Clearly, you hadn’t been giving him enough credit as a detective. Perhaps on a Crime Scene you could deduce circles around him, but here, he was superior. In this bedroom, he cleverly figured out how & where you liked to be touched. He knew how soft & how roughly to kiss you, to leave you wanting more & moaning into his mouth. Careful not to overstimulate; but far from handling you delicately. All those times you had watched him bite his tongue at your words all seemed to be coming back vengefully; biting, sucking your skin in response. You cannot help but arch back slightly as an expert mouth launches an attack on pale, unguarded skin. Marking you in every place you succumbed to his forces. 

It hadn’t occurred to you that your nipples would be as sensitive as they had been to his tongue, flicking & swirling it about as your head threw back in surrender. You hadn’t ever considered that being devoured by Lestrade was something you’d enjoy; yet here you are with your heartbeat thundering & soft, needing sounds slipping from plush lips. It almost too much; except it’s not nearly enough. “ ...keep it up & i’ll look just like another crime scene. ”