#Watson Plush

[e--q]

The Game is Afoot - Sherlock Holmes & Dr Watson

~ Happy Birthday Sherlock Holmes ~

(Handmade Soft Toys inspired by Miffy the rabbit in the form of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous detective Sherlock Holmes and his companion Dr Watson)

[nuclearmime]

I don't know a single thing about Vtubers but I love this one's design 🔎

[waddlesworth]

Werewolf Watson! I just completed his outfit today by getting him a top hat! :3

[methpring]

New items in my Yuumori collection! And oh my, those huge acrylic stands were a pain to fit on the same shelf! #yuukokunomoriarty #yuumori #acrylicstand #plushie #plush #moriartythepatriot #patrioottimoriarty #moriartythepatriotcollection #collection https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp5YZ54oAHp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[baker-street-dolls]

« Come on... Who'd want /me/ for a flatmate? »

« Well, you're the second person to say that to me today. »

« Who's the first? »

I found myself in Russel Square (almost) mistakenly... I couldn't deprive myself for a photo with my mini John, could I?

( ko-fi | etsy | instagram | twitter | how to order? )

| !Please do not repost without permissions!

[wasabi0910]

I want a stuffed animal like this 🧸𓈒 𓏸

bbc、GR(ガイリチ)、FGO(oc Watson×2)

[liquidkonata]

ame, same

and konata

[willyoubemycherryy]

➯imagine being Thomas Webb’s pretty shameless neighbor❣︎#𝟙 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤

❥𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐟 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 ⚠︎︎MDNI⚠︎︎

ALSO: this is an x reader but I used my name Dollette Watson ie. Doll/D.W for short (my mom was born in the 60’s can u tell?) just because I think the constant y/n is annoying if u want me to change it lmk and I will♥︎

“𝐻𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑒. 𝐻𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛’ 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑜 𝑃𝑢𝑐𝑐𝑖．．“

When you first moved in, you actually hadn’t seen him at all for almost 3 weeks.

Between settling in, moving your stuff together, job hunting, and being somewhat social, it wasn't until things slowed down a bit that you finally did see him and damn, did you see him.

You had just walked through your buildings door. Tired from work and the tight ass “uniform”, which was nothing more than a button up top with a tiny pinstripe skirt. Huffing in irritation you ready yourself for the trek up the stairs in goddamn heels, when you notice feet and the man attached to them blocking your way.

Raising an eyebrow, you wait a beat for him to move until you realize that he was wearing headphones.

You walk closer until the tips of your shoes are nearly kissing and watch the exact moment he snaps back to planet earth. Startling as he looks up at you.

You were suddenly grateful he had headphones on when you gasped because nothing could have prepared you for someone so attractive.

He was undeniably the finest man you have ever seen in your life, period.

Pretty cut brown hair, thoughtful baby blues behind smart framed glasses that brought attention to his high ruddy cheekbones, and god his nose. You have to blink away the graphic image of how good said nose would feel grinding against your clit before the present dull throb in your core turns into full blown pulsating.

Your efforts don’t matter because it’s game over for you once you drop your eyes to his lips. They were just so…full. Deep pink n plush, that line down the middle of his bottom lip was doing something to you.

You don’t even care if he notices you checking him out. In fact, you want him to. Because you were going to have him one way or another and have a real fun time with it too.

So, you watch his eyes flit to the hem of your shamelessly short skirt before trailing them down your legs, all the way to your heels. Enjoying the heat that his gaze alone lights in you.

Unfortunately, you are tired so playtime will have to wait.

Clearing your throat, you give him a cheeky smile, “Going up? Or are you waiting down here forever?” Tone teasing as you walk up the first two stairs to stand beside him. He watches your every move almost devotedly.

“No, I’m going up. I mean- I live here so that’s…yeah. I was just lost in thought.” His voice is deeper than you thought it’d be as he stumbles a bit through his answer and the raspiness in it makes you want to whine.

But wait.

“You live here too? Because I moved in a few weeks ago actually.” You tell him and he nods.

“Yeah? weird I’ve never seen you around the building though.” you laugh as you definitely would have remembered seeing him.

“That’s probably because you’re obviously a busy guy. Lost in thought in the middle of the stairs. Does this thought have a name?” Smiling, you prod him juuust a little, to gauge if he’s single. He smiles with you and it’s cute. Lightly shaking his head before he suddenly stands.

Fuck you upside down in a full Nelson he’s tall.

“Busy is the last thing I am. The name was Mimi. I’m just the friend that never made it to boyfriend, but I’ll get out of your way…?” He pauses as he waits for your name.

“DW. Dollette Watson. But for what it’s worth,” you hesitate before deciding to just go for it,

“I’m positive you’re the type to talk someone through it so it’s her loss entirely. Try not to sulk too much...?” You know you’re being bold. Innuendo all in your voice but he’s so hot you truly can’t help it. Thanks to his height and close proximity, you have to look up to make eye contact which is hard because of the way you’re trying not to stare at his full lips. And he smelled so good.

“Thomas, Webb. But thank you.” His voice is lower as he looks down at you with hooded eyes and the urge to devour his mouth hits you hard. But, you just walk up the steps until you can look down at him and turn to face him.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you but…if you ever want to get busy, come to 5b. I’m sure we could find something interesting to do”. You aren’t teasing this time. You mean business. Leaning in to whisper so close to his face that you can smell his chapstick. His eyes widen before they drop and you actually do whine as he bites his lip and comes closer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Until next time though. Bye Thomas.” You can’t resist and lean forward to nip his bottom lip. His light throaty groan sends warmth all over your body as it tapers into a soft “fuck”.

“Bye Doll”, Thomas mutters after you pull away, briefly noticing how his ears and neck have reddened, before you start walking up to your place.

Oh, he’s going to be fun. You think, feeling his eyes on you while you walk up until you’re out of sight.

Smirking, you hope he saw your panties…and how soaked they were.

[angryducktimemachine]

If you can't find a human Watson, Rat Watson is fine.

[ID: three photos of a person wearing a Sherlock Holmes cosplay consisting of a dark grey suit and a light grey deerstalker hat. On his shoulder sits a plush rat dressed as Watson is a grey jacket and a blue flat cap. /End ID]

[gooolabatooo]

This is art for the story "With Charity For All” by EC Boss (@emilycare) for the When the Rose Speaks its Name Sherlock Holmes Anthology!

You can check out their blog @whentherosespeaks . This is a non-profit project, Returns from sales will be donated to AKT, a UK charity benefiting LGBTQIA+ youth.

Image Description: The setting of this image is in a nursery. From left to right of the background is a wardrobe, a door, a nappy changing station, and a mirror with a wash stand. Watson is holding his baby daughter, Charity in his arms while Holmes looks excitedly at her. Charity is holding a plush bee. In her crib, there is a plush bear and duck.

Website | Tumblr | Instagram

[f4iryjeons]

At your own risk 🎃 (M)

 BAD BOY! JEONGGUK X READER

Established Au (I'm so weak for these man...)

WARNINGZ: this is literally PWP, rough sex, unprotected, ass eating and oral sex (f receives), semi public, degrading, spitting, lowkey town bully jk, jk carries a switchblade, jk is mean, he's really a bitch in this one, jk says he’d pull out but he lied, Jk is REALLY ROUGH .I think that's it idk. 

an: I just wanted to practice writing smut... that’s it. THIS IS VERY UNEDITED I've edited it.

word count: 3.7k 

The echoes of the past lingered in the present, like ghosts watching the living from the sidelines. The air was cold and harsh against your skin. You wished they’d close the windows already. Your heart was as heavy as the leaves plummeting from trees, and your mind appeared to be cloudy, much like the grey cloud filled sky. You were bored out of your mind. The winds were harsh, and the roads were empty, like a ghost town. Nobody could be seen for miles. Fall had come quicker than you’d thought, and while most were dressing up and going to parties, you were not. Instead, you were sitting in the empty diner your grandparents owned. “You’re still waiting for Jeongguk?” Your sister asked. She didn’t bat an eye when you didn’t reply, as she knew the answer. Instead, she just smiles and continues to whistle along to Monster Mash. “I’m closing up, so… go home reasonably. Don’t wait here all day. Make sure you lock everything back.” She says as she makes her way to the back. You’re still looking out the window, waiting for him. Jeongguk wasn’t the on time type, you knew better than to expect him to be on time. It was currently four pm. He’s always late to everything the two of you plan and you’ve learned to stop letting it bother you.

You’re straightening out your little red riding hood costume after putting it on. Your are kind of glad Jeongguk is very late. If he arrived earlier, you wouldn't have time to put on your costume. With your sister gone, you don’t have to worry about the judging statements from her, and ultimately your mother. You tighten the corset around your waist and attempt to pull the short dress down. It only stops at your upper thigh. No worries, your black lacy thigh socks cover a bit more skin than the dress itself. And finally, knee-high boots, laced up neatly, adorn your feet. You couldn’t wait to see Jeongguk’s reaction. He’s always said he wanted to see you in skimpy clothing, always wants to show you off.

It’s six pm when you hear the howling laughter of your boyfriend’s friends along with the screeching of his tires. Jeongguk is already out of the car by the time you come out of the diner, locking the diner up. His eyes are widening and there’s an excited grin on his face. One similar to that of a child in a candy store. Or, a kid opening a gift on Christmas Day. “I am sorry I’m late…” he trails off, looking you up and down shamelessly. He takes the cherry lollipop out of his lips as he leans down to kiss you. “Little red..” He mumbles against your lips. The two of you are pulled out of your trance when you hear his friend’s whistle. “Goddamn Yn!” One of them exclaims from the back seat of Jeongguk’s 1968 mustang. Jeongguk rolls his eyes, placing the lollipop back in his mouth, further staining his plush bottom lip a deep cherry red. He runs his hands through his gelled hair, “Shall we?” He invites, leading you to the passenger’s side, and opening the door for you. You cannot get over how hot he looks. He’s dressed like a greaser, and although it’s how he dresses any other day. Looking good in nothing but jeans, a black leather jacket, and a white t-shirt, it’s so on brand for him. The car only adds to his costume’s aesthetic, and it’s taking your mind for quite the ride. As you’re driving down the now filled streets, his friends are getting rowdier and rowdier. Oh, how you hated Jimin and Taehyung sometimes. “Is that Nick Watson?” Taehyung exclaims, poking his finger out of the window. You look at Jeongguk with an annoyed look. He just returns an apologetic grin. You knew what was coming next. Jeongguk isn’t exactly a model citizen, nor student. With your senior year of High School almost up, he’d made quite a name for himself. He was the typical bad boy, carried switchblades, wore leather jackets, ditched, and most importantly, loved to pick on underclassmen. He drives closer to the boy, slowing down to match his pace. “Hi Nicky..” Taehyung waves at the boy with a teasing smile. The boy looks at the car and groans. “What do you guys want?” He asks, visibly upset at the sight of your boyfriend and his friends. “Where the fuck is my English essay?” Taehyung asks, tone becoming dark at an alarmingly fast rate. The boy sighs, “I didn’t do it.” He shrugs, a shiver in his voice showing he’s scared. The boys don’t miss it. Jimin lets out an obnoxious giggle. “You sound like you’re about to piss yourself Nick!” The boys laugh out. Jeongguk doesn’t speak, eyes never leaving Nick’s form as he continues to walk. You hate when Jeongguk does this; he knows that too. Hence his silence. What’s even worse is you feel bad. You used to babysit his younger brother. You lean up so he could see you through Jeongguk’s window. “Hey Nick.” You wave at him, a very futile attempt to lighten the situation. The boy looks at you with a dazed look, mouth falling agape. “H-hi Yn, you look pretty.” He stumbles over his words a bit, eyes drinking in the few bits of skin visible from the passenger’s seat. Jeongguk doesn’t like flustered the boy becomes looking at you. He slams his foot on the brake; you yelp at the suddenness of his action. He pulls the switchblade from his pocket and points it out of the window. It’s pointed toward the young boy, and the look in Jeongguk’s eye cut deeper more than the blade could. The volatile illusion created by the darkness and the street lamps make him absolutely insane. The boy’s feet become stuck in their position as his eyes widen. “Listen to me… the Essay better be done by Monday, and I’m not fucking joking, do you understand?” The car goes quiet, and all is heard is crickets and echoes of laughter from the suddenly vacant streets.

Trembling, he nods. Jeongguk rolls the window up before driving off, leaving the boy behind in the smoke emitting from his exhaust.

Taehyung and Jimin bellow with laughter. Sounding similar to hyenas. You look at Jeongguk with disbelief and he ignores your look. He doesn’t enjoy disappointing you; he doesn’t even want to think about it. You huff in annoyance, turning your head to look at the bustling sidewalks.

When the two of you arrive at an abandoned house that was alive with loud, drunk young adults. You’re standing in front of the gates that are falling apart, and Jeongguk is right behind you, sensing your irritation. “An abandoned house?” you question, raising your eyebrow. Jeongguk gazes at you with an indecipherable expression before he pulls you aside. “You guys go ahead. We’ll meet you inside.” Jeongguk directs his statement to Taehyung and Jimin who are lingering on the steps of the house, but his eyes are looking into yours. You can tell be his locked jaw and the thick swallows he takes, he’s annoyed. “The fuck is your problem?” He inquiries, whipping out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. As he’s lighting it, you’re sighing, stepping back. “I really wish you didn’t do that.” You suspire. “Yeah, well, you wish I didn’t do a lot of things. Take it or fucking leave it, and drop the attitude.” It took a person with an abundance of patience to deal with Jeongguk. The boy was cruel, and it took someone who could look past these qualities to love him. You cannot do that right now. He is smoking a death stick and cursing at you. You cannot sit and have a conversation with him. You decide to walk away to let him cool down. He really doesn’t like that. He grips your wrist tightly. “Don’t fucking walk away from me while I’m talking to you.” He spits, letting you go.

He trusts you wouldn’t walk away. You were obedient, rarely defiant. And just as he thought, you stayed in place, crossing your arms as you look at the grassy ground beneath you. He sighs, “You know I hate that.” He states, putting the cigarette out, and stepping closer to you. The air that hits your skin is far from comforting, and the lump in your throat grows bigger. You knew Jeongguk would never hurt you physically, but he was still too rough with you. He doesn’t see an issue with how he speaks to you when he gets upset, his only excuse being ‘you deserved it.’ or ‘ you pissed me off.’. It’s taking a toll on you. He always expected you to listen to him, consider his concerns and fix things he didn’t like. But how you felt never mattered. If that’s how things are going to be, you should just end things.

“Don’t you dare.” He says. It’s sharp, but he doesn’t mean for it to sound that way. “Do not cry Yn.” He mumbles, trying to keep his tone in check. Your lip quivers and you turn away from him so he couldn’t see the tear that slips down your cheek. He sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. The hug is awkward as he’s holding you from the side, and you refuse to look at him. He doesn’t care though, he just rests his chin on your head. “Really, you’re a fucking idiot.” He murmurs. He doesn’t mean it. It’s really like a term of endearment, and he trusts you to know that. “Come on.” He tilts his head toward the yard of the large estate. You mindlessly follow him, his hand holding yours. The trees are tall, and the house becomes a distant memory as he leads you past it.

The trees. Woodsy, it only adds to your melancholy, as you know you think of how unfair he is toward you. He stops walking, but he only pulls you closer to him. You take in your surroundings; he led you deep into the woods that sat dauntingly behind the dated house. “Why are we out here?” You sniffle, wiping the few tears from your face. “‘Cause no one will hear us here.” You pause, “What do you mean?” He pauses briefly before grabbing you by the chin and stopping you from moving. He still doesn’t answer you as his hands fall to your back. He leans against a tree and his head falls into your neck. “Here you are… looking so sexy, so good, and you’re crying.” He states, shaking his head disapprovingly. He pecks your neck a few times, taking in your scent.

You’re frigid in his hold, allowing him to do whatever. His hands creep down to your ass, the dress eagerly riding up underneath his palms. You whisper his name with a warning, and Jeongguk ignores it. He pulls your body impossibly closer to his body and allows you to feel the erection in his jeans. “Kookie, no! What if someone catches us?” He cringes at the nickname but ignores it. “No one will catch us. Stop worrying and trust me.” He whispers against your neck, warm breath tickling your skin and leaving goosebumps in its radius. You can’t contain the moan building in your throat when his hands slip into your underwear. He’s just toying with the fabric, leaving ghost like touches on your inner thighs. “We can’t.” You try placing your hands on his wrists, but you can’t bring yourself to stop him. “Why?” He gently runs his finger of your moistening slit. You whimper, head falling into his neck. “We don’t have condoms.” You state. It’s impossible to look at him, not like this. You’ll crumble. He continues playing with the increasing amount of slick dripping on his fingers and spreading over your inner thighs. “I could pull out..” He offers. Alarms in your head are going off, and you’re about to lecture him about the irresponsible suggestion he made when he removes his hands from your underwear. You whine at the removal, and whine much louder when he brings his wet fingertips to his lips, sucking on them with tumultuous, lewd groans. “So fuckin’ good.” He mumbles, fingers still in his mouth.

You’re embarrassed at the amount of wetness that gushes out of you at the action. He knows you’re weak for him, and he knows he’ll get what he wants. “Get against the tree and bend over.” He whispers against the shell of your ear. He lets you go, and he stands behind you. You scramble to follow his instructions; you place your hands on the tree, bending over. He hums to himself. You can’t see him as you’re face to face with the bark of the tree. He moves closely behind you, his clothed erection touching your ass. He wastes no time pulling your panties down to your knees. “Fuck..” He whispers. You can hear the impact of something hitting the floor, and soon you can feel his hands gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them. His warm breath hits the plump cheeks. You gasp at the foreign feel of his tongue flat on your pussy. He drinks your growing wetness in contently, sighing every new and then. You cry out brazenly. His tongue dips inside of you teasingly before he pulls away. You whine, begging for him not to stop. There are a few silent beats before his grip on your ass cheeks tighten and you wince at his fingernails digging into your skin. You yelp loudly when you feel his tongue prodding at your tight, untouched hole. It’s new. He’d never done that before. He drags his tongue down to your core, slurping the juices that have gathered for him. With another pornographic drag of his tongue, he’s back, poking at your asshole. You rest your forehead on the tree, moans spilling out of you in surprise and pleasure.

His tongue is back on your pussy. He pushes his head further between your ass. He’s able to reach your clit. Your pussy was dripping. Juices were falling into his mouth as he poked at it. It’s so dirty, so perverted, the thought of your slick dripping into his mouth and him thirstily waiting. The way he drinks from your core like your juices were a nectar from the juiciest fruit in a magical forest. It shouldn’t make you so kindled. “You gonna cum?” He asks against your slit, his mouth not allowing you to reply as he keeps pulling moans from you. He slurps, every so often bringing the wetness up to your asshole. He pulls back for a moment, leaving you awaiting what he’ll do to you next. You stand by, cold air hitting your hot skin. It’s not enough to cool you down. You shiver, but it’s not because of the chill of the night. You sigh loudly when you feel his fingers; he rubs your clit. He is dragging you closer and closer to orgasm. You can’t shake the feeling of possibly being caught. The thought is licentious as you grow hotter. You can still hear the loud music screaming from the house through the woods. It allows you to become comfortable with your volume, not a care in the world as you cry out at every little thing he does. His fingers dip into your pussy, just for a moment. It’s so sweet, so fucking good, so euphoric for a small minute. He takes it from you. He was a cruel profligate. You want to turn around, yell at him, and you almost do until you feel his finger dancing around your virgin hole. You mumble his name, shakily, nervous. This was the first time you had done this. He was diving into new, deep waters. You wouldn’t stop him. It would be a lie to say you weren’t intrigued. “You like this, don’t you?” He asks, from behind you, he’s still on his knees. You can only nod, embarrassed at your obscene behavior. He lets out a hoarse chuckle, and it causes more juice to trickle down your thighs. “Such a slut… you wanna be fucked in the ass?” He hums, his finger smoothly pushing inside. It’s alien, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, it just feels weird. It feels like you’re being stuffed, like there’s something occupying your hole, and it’s weirdly making your pussy clench. You want more. You don’t have to ask though. He’s pushing in another finger so you’re filled by two. The stretch becomes uncomfortable, but it’s bearable, and you like it. You can’t stop whining, and you can’t stop clenching around nothing. Your pussy starts spasming when he fingers your ass, his fingers moving at a tolerable pace. “Look how wet you’re getting… you’re fucking disgusting.” He says. You cry out, shamelessly nodding at his words. He leans in, tongue out to collect your nectar straight from the tap. His fingers and his tongue speed up a few moments later. He’s energetically lapping up what you have to give as he continues to finger-fuck your ass at a now merciless pace. You can’t hold yourself up much long, legs and arms giving out as you cum harder than you’ve ever came before. He’s quick to catch you. His fingers are pulled out of your ass, and he’s standing, holding you up by your waist. Your back against his chest as you're trying to catch your breath. “Fuck… you squirted from that?” He teases, kissing your reddened cheek. He wipes the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand. The sweet moment falls short as he roughly turns you around to face him and pushes you against the tree. Your head will kill you after this, but you can’t bring it yourself to care. He doesn’t break eye contact as he undoes his belt and pulls his pants along with his underwear down. There’s a quiet mewl caught in your throat when you see the red leaking tip of his cock. You swear you could feel your mouth water; you want to devour him. But you know he won’t let you. With his cock so hard, and desperate to be held tightly by your divine walls, he wouldn’t think of doing anything besides fucking you. He lifts one of your legs up, hooking it under his arm. Your leg dangles loosely over his forearm as you watch him stroke himself with his free hand. He leans in to kiss you, his cock sliding under your exposed slit. The kiss is wet and desperate. You cut yourself when your teeth scrape together, feeling swollen and desperate as your tongues tussle. Your grip on his hair is bruising, and he’s pushing you against the tree so hard you’re worried you’ll get splinters when the two of you are done. You arch your body, letting your pussy drape over his cock as he grinds over your slick folds. Your pussy lips cling to his cock, rivulets of excitement swelling as he changes direction, pushing the entire shaft in. You scream in surprise and pain. You whimper at the bittersweet feeling of his cock stretching you. “Baby, it hurts.” You whimper, your head falling limp against the tree. He just grunts, pushing into you until he bottoms out. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, feigning concern. You nod, whining at the vigorous stretch. “You wanna act like a fucking brat? You get treated like one.” He hisses, grabbing your jaw pitilessly.  He leaves his hand on your face, pressing your head into the tree, you whimper pitifully. You hate how much you love It. He’s fucking like you were an inanimate object, as if you were there for solely his pleasure. You hate how loud you grow at his remorseless pace. You hate how he grips too tight, bruises you with too much force. You hate how in control he is. You hate how you want it to stay that way. He groans loudly when he feels you gushing around him, smirking at you. Your eyes fall into the back of your head as your mouth feels pried open to let the lewd noises travel through the woods. You close your eyes and envelop yourself in the blanket of pleasure, groaning, mindfucked into another dimension. He feels a sudden rush of adrenaline as he approaches his high. Roughly, he grabs your face, forcing you to give him your attention. He shamelessly spits in your mouth, “Jump.” He grunts, bending down and placing your leg underneath his other arm. You cry, doing as he says, although its not as easy as it seemed. Your legs were like jelly and jumping felt like the hardest thing to do. You keep attempting to jump as he grows impatient, condescending chuckle leaving his mouth. “You’re so fucking stupid, you know that?” He lifts you almost effortlessly against the tree. He continues fucking into you for the lone purpose of cumming. You cum, but he ignores it, he continues even with your tightening walls. You’re fucked into oblivion at this point, body spasming with each thrust. His upper body pulses correspondingly with each thrust, and you feel his seed bursting into you. You yelp as he’s falling against the tree, exhausted. “That was pretty intense.” For some reason, you can’t seem to speak. You just swallow and nod. He gently lets you down, you feet touching the floor but giving out from under you. You grip his shoulders for support. “We fucked each other up…” he trails off, chest heaving with each breath. After a short while of looking at each other, saying nothing, the fiery glare is fading.

“You do know I love you, right?” You just nod, your body falling into his as the two of you walk back to his car. He smiles, draping his arm around your neck and bringing you closer. You reach your hand up and check the side of his cheek. Gently, you stroke his face. “I’m exhausted..” you mumble, climbing into the passenger’s seat. He gets into his side, fastening his belt. “I have to take you back home.” You groan, getting comfortable in the leather seats. “Why don’t you just come in with me? You can leave in the morning.”

And he does. He sneaks into your house in the dead of night to hold you tight as the two of you drift off. You’re the first to wake up, but for once in your life, you don ’t do anything about it. That was by far your favorite Halloween.

[waddlesworth]

Watson is almost complete! He just needs a top hat. :3

[momma2boys]

Many thanks to @calaisreno for the prompt that got me writing the story that's been rattling around in my head for a few weeks.

John Watson has been invalided home from Vietnam and is desperately trying to keep Watson's Tri-State Trucking, the family business, solvent. As he travels across New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey, he notices a slender stranger. Late one night, they meet.

Prompt for May 1: Open

Everything ached. Everything from his shoulder to his big toe. The ache in his shoulder was dull and heavy. John tried stretching his neck from side to side to loosen it; experience told him it would be useless to try rotating the joint itself. The ache traveled down his arm in buzzy pulses that pierced his elbow and froze his ring and middle fingers. Lifting his hand from the steering wheel, he shook it violently before rhythmically squeezing it into a fist and releasing it.

Harder to bear was the burning pain from buttock to toe. No matter how many times he shifted his weight from one cheek to the other, the pain was constant. Ten miles outside of Binghamton his thigh began to throb. Just a little farther, he thought. Get to a truck stop or rest area, someplace populated and he’d catch forty winks. The lost time would be better than driving his rig off a bridge in desperation.

On the far side of Binghamton he pulled into a truck stop, parking well away from the other semis. After a quick trot to the head, he swallowed two aspirins with a swig from his flask and settled down in his bunk. The aptly named coffin sleeper provided just enough room to pull off his boots and shimmy out of his jeans before pulling the blanket over himself, but he didn’t care. His rig was paid for—much as he admired the newer Peterbilts with their fancy cabs that were as well-appointed as a Newark studio apartment, the 1962 Mack belonged to Watson’s Tri-State Trucking one hundred percent and only needed the occasional bit of doctoring and prayer.

Two days on the road with minimal breaks—the client in Buffalo paid a bonus for early delivery—meant John was exhausted. Despite the pain, he was asleep in minutes. His dreams were painless, pleasant, in fact. He was two-stepping ‘round the dance floor at the Bluebonnet, feet sliding on the smooth wooden floor, slow-slow, quick-quick. He swayed in sync with the music and his hips moved easily. Slow-slow, quick-quick. His partner was vague, as happens in dreams, but he didn’t care. His body felt loose, moving to the music—some cover band playing classic hits--and his partner was gracefully leading him around the floor. The hips beneath his hands were slender and their gentle motion filled him with a tingling that was the opposite of pain. Together they moved in perfect harmony like a set of well-matched horses at the county fair. Slow-slow, quick-quick. A welcome warmth surged below his waist and he pulled his partner closer. John threaded fingers through his partner’s belt loops to tug their bodies closer, allowing him to feel a bulge there, matching and meeting his own. Slow-slow, quick-quick. As he dug his hips against theirs, his partner came into focus; not a woman, but the man from the truck stop. Dark curls, sharp cheekbones, pale skin, cupid bow lips. A little closer and he could kiss that plush mouth.

Suddenly, the twangy music was overpowered by the screeching whine of artillery.

“Incoming!” John yelled as he pulled the stranger off the dance floor.

Cover, they needed cover. John scanned the bar for a table, an alcove, anywhere that might provide shelter. This was a complete clusterfuck—his head ached from the constant whine of missiles and the acrid stink of explosives. The dance floor was littered with spent shells and disembodied limbs. John pulled on the stranger’s arm, sending them both skating through the slick of blood covering the smooth wooden boards. His eyes were watering now, his nose dripping from the smoke and the smell of burning flesh. This is it—this is how he’ll go home, another body bag, another nameless number on the evening news— He is shaking, huddled on the floor with a stranger in his arms because there is no escape, unless….Unless this were a dream, if he were dreaming, he could wake up. Wake up, he willed himself, wake up, dammit…wake the fuck up, asshole!

He shut his eyes and covered his head with his arms—he owed it to Harry, to Dad, to at least try to survive—

“You’re all right,” soothed a resonant voice.

“It’s not all right,” John heard himself say, “it will never be all right…”

Cold. He was cold despite being soaked in sweat.

“Yes, I know,” the voice answered, “but you are all right.”

There was a hand on his back, firm and steadying. Whoever was with him was close enough that he could smell the coffee and peanuts on his breath. John found himself matching his own breaths to those of this nameless, faceless companion. He didn’t realise how disordered his breathing had been until it slowed into an ordered rhythm. In, two, three, out, two, three. Slow, slow, slow.

“That’s it. Breathe. Good.” The strong hand traced circles on his back in time to their respirations.

John squeezed his eyes tightly shut before opening them. The world around him came into focus. It was night—he was in his truck—the 1962 Mack that his father had paid off before he died—tangled in his blanket. Kneeling on the driver’s seat was the stranger he’d seen in Gouldsboro and Norristown and Buffalo.

“What…how’d,” John croaked, he swallowed hard and tried again, “what are you, how did you get into my truck?”

“Hanger,” the man said, “left your window rolled down enough to work it through, which makes sense given the temperature and humidity this evening, but you might want to consider a different sleeping arrangement if you are opposed to uninvited guests. An inch and half of space is an open invitation, although I wouldn’t have taken you up on it if you hadn’t been screaming your head off. I rather thought you were being attacked, but now I reckon it was just a nightmare.”

[lisbeth-kk]

December moments

Prompts used in this chapter: in front of the fire - pine-scented - frost - storm

When John realises that Sherlock doesn’t love him, he panics. Have these months just been a bittersweet dream?

December 13

John can hear the storm building outside the windows. The noise is eerie in the December darkness. There’s a frost in the air inside the flat he can’t explain. It reminds him of his childhood when he watched Scrooge on the telly and the ghosts visited the grumpy old man at night. 

A figure seems to emerge from the wall in front of him. It’s Sherlock. He’s dressed in black, which highlights his pale face. Even the plush lips are almost colourless. 

“You have to move out, John,” Sherlock says in a grave voice. “Your presence here is no longer welcome.”

“Sherlock? What do you mean?” John asks with a voice that’s about to break. 

“You heard me,” Sherlock scolds. 

His tone is cold, harsh and without emotions. 

A proper sociopath. 

John refuses to believe what he hears. Sherlock loves him! He’d said so just the other night before he fell asleep. John pinches his thigh to assure himself that he’s not sleeping. It hurts, ergo he’s awake!

“No, no, no! Please, Sherlock. Say it’s not true. I can’t live without you!” John begs, but Sherlock’s unwavering. 

“That’s no longer any concern of mine,” he says in a haughty voice. The one he only uses on idiots, Sally and Anderson in particular. 

John wants to straighten his body, be captain Watson and tell Sherlock he’ll be fine without him, but he can’t muster the strength. He falls to his knees and feels his heart break. 

***

The next thing John registers are warm arms encircling him and a scent of pine from the candles Mrs. Hudson brought up the other day. 

“John. What’s the matter? Did you have a nightmare?”

He knows that voice!

“Sherlock?” he whispers, his throat hoarse from crying.

“Yes, John. Why are you out here?” Sherlock asks. 

John opens his swollen eyes and realises he’s on his knees in the sitting room in his pyjamas and t-shirt. The flat is pitch black so it must still be early. He gazes at Sherlock who looks worried at him. The coldness in his voice is gone and his hands stroke John’s back soothingly. John dares to lean into the familiar body and exhales shakily. 

“I dreamt apparently. And you…you wanted…”

John’s not able to continue. The coldness is back in his bones and Sherlock’s previous demand shakes him up further. 

“Shhh. I’ve got you,” Sherlock murmurs and rocks him in his arms, holding him tight to his chest. 

Sometime later, when John’s able to tell Sherlock the rest of his horrible dream, Sherlock does his best to reassure John that what imaginary Sherlock said, was utter bollocks. 

“I love you, John, and I would never want you to move out. For me, this is forever. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. Your presence is essential to me. Never question that, John. My only love. My John.”

The kisses they share after this declaration, start tender and sweet, but evolve and become frantic and desperate, and they end up making love right there in front of the fire, which still glows from the evening before.

Read it on AO3

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @sabsi221b @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @raina-at @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely

[powerofelvis]

On Set Lovin’

Pairing: Austin Butler x f!reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Warning(s): SMUT, oral (m.receiving), wardrobe malfunction

A/N: It’s Day 11! This request was requested by an anon. I hope this finds you well, nonnie! As usual, we are down to the last two days so I’m pretty excited about it. This one was pretty fun to write, I’m glad that I put it off until now! I hope y’all enjoy a little naked Austin.

Austin Butler. The man who you thought about when you woke up and even when you went to bed. You had met Austin when you were a background actress for Once Upon A Time in Hollywood. He was playing the role of Tex Watson, his black hair flowing in the breeze as he interacted with everyone. You were sure that he wouldn’t notice you, being irrelevant in the role that you had, but he did. In fact, he would spend more time with you than he did with his co-stars. You were flattered that he found solace in hanging out with you, giving longing glances in his direction as he walked the set.

Once the movie wrapped up and aired to the world, you thought that your relationship would go back to being nonexistent as he would go back to his world as a budding actor and you go back to scraping the barrel for roles. However, Austin would find himself back into your world once again. He got a hold of you one day when he was in town for an audition, asking if you wanted to go for coffee. You would be a fool if you rejected him, letting your unrequited crush lead you as you would meet with him on multiple occasions. 

Soon, the both of you were inseparable. It was a warm summer day that you met with him, seemingly getting another opportunity to be an extra on his new movie “The Bike Riders”. When you weren’t busy with your duties as an extra, you were chilling with him in his trailer, talking about his script and his character development. You sat on the couch that adorned the trailer, scrolling on your phone while you waited for him to return from a scene shoot. The door opened shortly after, Austin walking inside, his dirty blonde hair stuck to his forehead. He didn’t say a word, walking past you to head into the bathroom to clean himself off.

“Have you been here long, Y/N?” His deep voice called out to you causing a chill to climb up your spine. You adored his voice, often visualizing him speaking to you as he took you in his trailer for everyone to hear. “Nope, I actually just got here. I have to reshoot the bar scene with you later.” You chuckled, not looking forward to seeing Austin being tossed around like a rag doll. He came out of the bathroom, his tall and built body wrapped lovingly with a plush robe. You nearly choked at the sight of his body almost on display for you. His chest hair peeking out of the collars, begging for you to reach out to touch. 

Austin sat down on the couch, taking a moment to check his phone for emails or text messages that he had gotten while he was away. No word was spoken between the both of you as you sat across from him now, eyes lingering over his body longer than you attended. He sat manspread on the couch, giving you a perfect view of his toned thighs but not enough to see more. You looked away, nervously speaking about the scene that would happen later. “Are you ready to be thrown out of the bar again?” Austin’s eyes looked over at you, a smile spreading across his lips as he put his phone down by his side. 

At that moment, his robe fell open. Your eyes lingered at his now revealed chest, your words dying on your tongue. Austin’s eyes followed yours, embarrassment immediately covering his features. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry Y/N. I should have put clothes on.” He nervously fixed himself, not realizing that his cock was still showing from the undone tie that held his robe together. As he tried desperately to put himself back together, you swallowed harshly as your eyes stayed on his length that sat perfectly on his lap. He was beautiful. The tip was prettily pink as it sat taunting you. Austin was embarrassed now, coughing nervously as he usually did when he was nervous, his eyes still following yours. 

“It’s okay, I’m sure you felt like you needed to be comfortable before putting the leather back on.” You whispered, not able to find your voice at the moment. If you didn’t make a move, you were sure that you would come to regret it. However, you weren’t sure if you should as he was completely red in the face, his eyes looking everywhere but to you. “I’m not sure if this is appropriate but you seem to have trouble with that guy.” You pointed to his semi hard cock causing Austin to take his bottom lip in between his teeth. You mindlessly got down on your knees before crawling over to him, taking his cock in your hands.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N. I—,” You shook your head, looking up at him with a smile. “I want to.” You pulled his robe undone, revealing his cock in all its glory to you. You kissed at his tip, the salty, sweet taste of his precum awakening something in you that you’ve never felt before. Austin let out a groan, laying his head back as he watched you with hooded eyes. As your mouth wrapped around his cock, you looked up at him with innocent eyes, taking as much as you could in your mouth. “Fuck, Y/N.” He moaned out, giving you the much needed push to continue. 

His cock hit the back of your throat causing a gag to release from your mouth, feeling the rumbling from his deep chest groans as you begin to sloppily suck him off. Your hands fondled with his perfect balls, spit sliding from the corners of your mouth as it coated his length; giving you the much needed slip that your mouth couldn’t give the rest. All you needed to see was Austin squirm from above you, the slurping sounds being the only noises that you could hear. “Fuck, you’re such a naughty little minx, Y/N. I’ve dreamed about having your mouth around me for a while now.” 

You rubbed your thighs together for a much needed friction, your body burning with desire as you continued moving your head along his cock. Your hands continued rubbing and pinching at his balls, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth. “I’m not gonna be able to make it, baby, keep going.” He moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure as he felt his orgasm creep up on him. You moaned, giving him the cue that he could cum whenever. It wasn’t long after, his cum spurted out of him—coating your mouth as you tried to catch all that he gave you. You pulled away from him, opening your mouth to show his cum on your tongue. 

“Jesus, baby. You’re such a tease, you know that?” He caressed your cheek, his eyes not dark at the sight of you being his good girl. “Such a good girl, my good girl.” You swallowed him, putting your tongue out as you smiled innocently at him. “Tell you what, baby. Once we are done with the reshoot, I’m gonna meet you back here and I’m gonna fuck you. Fuck you so hard that everyone will know whose girl you really are.” The sound of that made you squirm beneath him. You got off of your knees, sitting on the couch as you watched him walk away from you, getting dressed in the leather that you couldn’t wait to take off of his body. Austin Butler. The man who you were gonna fuck later. You couldn’t wait for it. 

[myemuisemo]

Part 7 of Letters from Watson, "Light in the Darkness," has one spot where contemporary readers would have been the edge of their walnut, horsehair-stuffed, plush-covered seats, murmuring: "It's got to be... can it really be... it must be... c'mon Holmes, surely you see this!" Then there's another where the reaction would be: "But how? I have so many questions!"

C'mon Holmes, surely you see it!

Holmes' "perfect shriek of delight" at realizing how he ought to test a key clue is what the savvy reader was surely feeling, no matter how ungentlemanly it might be by the standards of its day.

What got me digging into the matter of the pills is that Watson, Lestrade, and Gregson seem too unconcerned with what poison is involved. While forensic toxicology was nowhere near what we see on crime shows now, the concept existed. The Marsh test for arsenic had been developed back in the 1830s, to prove arsenic poisoning in suspected murder cases. While this poison is clearly too fast-acting to be arsenic -- or even the Aqua Tofana of the newspaper editorials -- surely if there was one poison that scientists tested for, there were at least efforts to test for more.

Showing little concern over something that seems important and puzzling is usually, in old texts, an indication that whatever-it-was wasn't puzzling to contemporaries.

Here, nobody is puzzled because in this period, everyone who enjoyed sensation stories and true crime already knew that of course if you have a poison duel, the poison is water-soluble and fast-acting. As far as I can tell from stories under the excellent Poison Duels tag on Strange History, the poison used in poison duels wasn't specified in these tales (which might be outright urban legends). The poison in a poison duel is just that kind of poison.

In a poison duel, the combatants each choose a pill to dissolve in their drink. One is a harmless placebo. The other is a fast-acting deadly poison. These stories had been popular since at least the 1820s and kept recurring. Were they true? That's dubious. It's possible that the murder method here is the equivalent of a meme.

Why have a poison duel? As a duel, it's a matter of honor, so Drebber and the murderer are, for some reason, heinously offended with one another. But why poison? Why not pistols at dawn?

Traditional dueling had been outlawed in the UK in 1819, though the United States was slower and less consistent in banning it. More important, though, is that a poison duel was the (dramatic, hypothetical) choice if one party was physically unfit to duel or if one party was seen as being beneath the other in status and honor.

Drebber has been established as wealthy (his gold ornaments), penny-pinching (his other clothes and his choice of lodging), and uncouth to the point of casually sexually assaulting his landlady's innocent daughter. Either the murderer is a man with standards who sees Drebber as beneath him, or Drebber is a snob who sees the murderer as beneath him.

Since we still don't have an explanation for the wedding ring, I'm right there in the smoking lounge with 1880s readers in speculating that Drebber assaulted, coerced, or otherwise harmed a young woman that the murderer cared about. Sister? Sweetheart? We've already got a brother-avenges-sister pair in the story: is this foreshadowing?

But how? I have so many questions!

Holmes characterizes our murderer as "a shrewd and desperate man.... [who can] change his name, and vanish in an instant among the four million inhabitants of this great city." This feels like the build-up to having a little vehmgericht conspiracy as a treat, but that red herring is swiftly pickled.

(The steel handcuffs with springs that Holmes touts are an improvement over the D-shaped cuffs in use at the time.)

The murderer is...

...a taxi driver?

But taxi drivers in London had been licensed since the mid-1600s and had been required to demonstrate "the knowledge" of London streets for 15-20 years by the time of the story! Taxi driver was not a job that a person could fake with the same readiness as picking up a ladder and passing as a laborer.

It's a great job for being invisible on the streets of London, since cabs were everywhere. Unlicensed cabs probably operated, but not for long. How had the murderer come by a cab to drive? I have so many questions!