#and imagine it playing in holmes's head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamwritesimagines · 2 months ago

Text

Sunshine 12 - Wildfire

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: It's important to have boundaries after a break up.

Word Count: 4340

CW: Explicit language, toxic!Logan, angst, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

As your friends kept telling you, most of the time getting over a relationship required going out with other people.

And you were trying, you really were.

Didn’t mean it was easy though.

On paper, Hayes was perfect. In fact, you were pretty sure that if you hadn’t met Logan, you would’ve been head over heels for Hayes but Logan's presence seemed to have carved itself into your heart way too deep to let anyone else be there as well. Hayes seemed to understand that even if you didn’t give him any details, so this past month you had been taking things extra slow and getting to know each other, becoming friends before becoming anything else.

“You want to go to a horror movie,” you stated, staring at Hayes before you filled his coffee then leaned on the counter. He had made it his habit to drop by the diner whenever he could before his morning shifts and you were beginning to get used to it.

“Thanks,” he said and sipped his coffee. “And technically, it’s a thriller.”

“It’s a horror movie.”

“It got awards.”

“They make awards for horror movies?”

He nodded his head and you huhed.

“And you don’t see enough blood at work so you have to see it on screen as well?”

“I mean I’m not responsible for people fake dying on the screen,” he pointed out. “And to repeat, it got awards.”

“What is it about?”

“Well it’s this protagonist who starts out with a totally normal life but then descends into chaos and madness.”

You tapped your pen on your lips, deep in thought.

“Say yes,” Hayes teased you and you heaved a dramatic sigh, then shrugged your shoulders.

“If I get too scared, we’re getting out of that movie theatre.”

“Deal,” he said with a bright smile, making you giggle. He checked his wristwatch then bit into his toast.

“So you’re meeting Jamie after work?”

“Yep,” you said. “I’ll drop by the hospital to give him Theo’s newest drawing. He drew it specifically for him, so you know, I’m playing the messenger.”

“That’s sweet.”

“But it won’t be long, he and Nik has their date night tonight.”

“I mean you could drop by where I work as well?” he offered. “I’m two floors down so you’d see me on your way out.”

You tilted your head.

“Sure,” you said. “If you’re sure it won’t be weird.”

“Why would it be weird?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you shrugged your shoulders again.

“Um—” you said, biting at your fingernail. “You know, going to your workplace.”

“I am in your workplace right now?”

“Yeah but it’s a diner,” you said. “That’s a hospital.”

“So?”

“I don’t want to intrude or anything,” you murmured. “Or…make your colleagues think something you don’t want them to.”

“Friends can’t visit each other at work?” Hayes asked and you let out a small laugh.

“They can.”

“Then?”

You nibbled on your lip, then took a deep breath.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Does this bother you?”

He looked confused for a moment. “Does what bother me?”

“This,” you said, motioning between you two. “Taking things extra extra slow.”

Hayes thought for a moment, furrowing his brows before he sipped his coffee and shook his head.

“Not at all,” he said. “If anything, it makes me feel nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic?”

“Yeah like I’m in high school again.”

You repressed a mischievous grin. “I mean I don’t know what to tell you, I got laid in high school.”

“I will tell you something that will surprise you,” he said. “Being the president of Sherlock Holmes club didn’t really lead me to meet many girls for some reason.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you told him with a smile. “Sounds like a fun club.”

He stared at you, then heaved a sigh. “Okay, I should go.”

“Why?”

“Because the more I talk to you the more I feel like I want to be more than your friend,” he said. “And I’m not gonna ask you out on a date until you’re ready so…”

You could feel your cheeks burning and you pressed your lips together to keep yourself from smiling.

“I appreciate that,” you managed to say and he downed his coffee, then got up from the stool.

“I’ll see you around then?”

“See you around,” you told him and he smiled at you, then walked out of the diner. Stacey came closer to you to bump your shoulder with hers.

“He’s cute.”

“He’s a friend,” you said and she hummed.

“So we’re still not over that other guy?”

“No no, I am,” you said, trying to ignore the small spark of pain shooting through the scar on your arm. “I barely think about him anymore.”

Stacey squeezed at your shoulder.

“Good,” she said. “I mean he was hot but he also looked like trouble, you know? Bad boy vibes all around.”

“Right.”

“But this one looks actually nice!” she said, making you force a smile on your face.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I know. And that’s exactly what I need. Nice.”

You’d had fun with Jamie when you dropped by the hospital, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to see Hayes, seeing that he was very busy. You had just left him a message, then left the hospital to go home and take a quick nap.

That quick nap had turned into a two-hour nap and when you woke up, your teeth were chattering because of how cold it was. You frowned to yourself and went to turn on the light, but it wasn’t working. A quick check in your phone had told you that the power would be off until tomorrow, and you threw your head back, irritation taking over your whole mind. Your phone—that you had plugged in to charge before your nap—was dying and you let out a groan, trying to think what to do.

It was Nik and Jamie’s date night, so you really couldn’t crash it. Julie was out of town visiting her parents which made it impossible for you to go to her place, and the diner was closed, so it wasn’t like you could just go there to warm up. You bit at your nails, maybe you could go warm up in a coffee shop and charge your phone and then come back to—

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your phone started vibrating in your hand and you let out a breath, then plastered a smile on your face as you answered.

“Hi bean!” you said, trying your hardest to sound cheerful. “Sorry I can’t stay for long, my phone is dying and the power went out. What’s up?”

“Power went out?” Theo asked and you hummed.

“Yeah but no worries, I’ll—”

“Mommy no, it’s very cold outside!”

“I know that, but I’m—” you started, then pulled your brows together as you heard his footsteps along with his fast breathing on the other line. “Bean? What are you doing?”

“Mr Logan!” Theo’s voice was almost hysterical, making your eyes widen. “My mom doesn’t have power and her phone is dying so she’s gonna have to hang up soon and then she’s gonna die alone in the cold!”

“What?!” you exclaimed, your heart dropping to your stomach. “Bean—no no, that’s not what’s happening and I’m totally fine, I’m not dying so please don’t worry and don’t—”

“Your power went out?” Logan’s voice reached you and you squeezed your eyes shut before taking a deep breath, commanding yourself to stay calm.

“Yeah but it’s fine, I’m handling it. Can you please put Theo on the phone?”

“Pack a bag, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“What? No—” you started but before you could say anything, you heard the shuffling on the phone and Theo’s voice reached you.

“Oh you’re coming here then mommy! See, I solved it!”

You felt like your teeth were going to break from how hard you were clenching them but you cleared your throat, then managed to smile again.

“Right,” you said as you sat down on the floor. “Thanks bean.”

“I’ll see you when you get here, love you!” he said and hung up, and you grabbed the pillow, then buried your face into it to let out a frustrated scream, kicking your legs at the floor. You took a deep breath, then put the pillow back and massaged your temples, forcing yourself to focus.

This was just embarrassing at this point.

The urge to leave your apartment and not be here when he got here was strong, you couldn’t lie, but you knew you couldn’t. Now that Theo thought you were going there, you had to actually go there to make sure he wouldn’t worry about you. You could feel the tears of frustration burning at your eyes but you pursed your lips together and wiped at your eyes furiously, pushing yourself off the floor. You made your way to your backpack to grab it, then started shoving the things you would need tonight into it.

When Logan knocked on your door, you were sprinkling Cheeto and Popcorn’s food into the bowl. You dragged your fingertips over the bowl as a way to tell them goodnight, then went to the door to open it.

You were beginning to think your heart would never be calm in his presence, no matter how much time passed after your break up.

“Hi,” he said after a beat and you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore just how uncomfortable you were feeling to have him here when you were quite frankly a mess.

“I don’t need your help,” you managed to say and he raised his brows, then nodded fervently.

“I know.”

“I was taking care of it.”

“Of course,” he said, holding out his hand to take your backpack from you. You shifted your weight, then gave the backpack to him before grabbing your coat to put it on.

“The only reason I’m coming there is because I don’t want Theo to worry,” you said through your teeth as you slammed the door with an unnecessary force before you locked it, then made your way downstairs with Logan following you. “That’s it.”

“Yeah.”

“And stop with that!” you told him, glaring up at him and he had the audacity to look confused.

“You don’t want me to agree with you?”

“No because coming from you, it just sounds sarcastic.”

“I’m not being sarcastic,” he told you as you both stepped out of the building and you let out a breath when the cold air hit your face.

Jesus, it was freezing tonight.

You made your way to the truck, Logan opening the door for you before you got in, and you slipped a little in the seat, rubbing your hands together to get them warm. Logan got in the truck as well and started the engine, turning the heater up so that you could get warm.

After a couple of minutes of complete silence, he stole a look at you.

“You okay?”

“We really don’t need to talk.”

Your name left his lips in an exhausted whisper, making your heart skip a beat and you frowned to yourself, crossing your arms and fixing your gaze outside the window.

“I know you’re doing this for Theo, okay?” he said. “And I know you don’t like this, but—”

“Don’t like this?” you repeated with a scoff. “I don’t know why you think that. Being in a position where my ex-boyfriend who dumped me out of nowhere had to rush to save me yet again is actually a hobby of mine.”

“That’s not—”

“Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know if I can even call you an ex-boyfriend,” you mused, cutting him off and he pulled his brows together, taking his eyes off the road to give you a look of disbelief.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Eyes on the road, Logan!” you snapped. “Not everyone in this truck has superpowers, in case you forgot.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means whatever you think it means,” you said, slipping a little in the seat and resting your knees against the dashboard and Logan shook his head slightly.

“Am I missing something here?” he asked. “Where is this coming from? We were together—”

“Were we?”

He looked like he was at the end of his patience. “What did you think we were doing?”

“Wouldn’t know, we never talked about it.”

“And we needed to talk about it for you to know we were together?”

“No,” you said, sarcasm laced in your tone. “You cleared up any potential misunderstandings pretty well I would say.”

His jaw clenched before he exhaled through his nose.

“It was to keep you safe.”

You hummed, biting at your nail. “Sure.”

“It was,” he insisted. “You know that.”

You repressed the bitter laugh threatening to spill from your lips, keeping your gaze on the trees whizzing by.

“You do know that?” he asked after a beat and you rolled your eyes, nibbling at your lip.

“I do,” you muttered. “Doesn’t make any difference.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him swallowing thickly and you hugged yourself, resting your head against the window.

When you got to the mansion, Theo was already waiting for you. After assuring him that you were alright, you went with him to read him his bedtime story but unlike before he didn’t fall asleep right away.

“Mommy?” he muttered as you put your phone on the bedside table, and looked down at him.

“Yes bean?”

“Do you think Sir Bartholomeow would get along well with Cheeto and Popcorn?”

You hummed, stroking his hair.

“Cats aren’t exactly known to be friends with fish, bean.”

“Maybe it’ll be different with Sir Bartholomeow if I introduce them to him.”

You repressed a smile.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll tell them about him before I introduce him to them, that way they won’t get scared.”

“Good plan,” you said. “Where is Sir Bartholomeow anyway?”

“He likes walking around the school but he comes here at midnight most of the time,” Theo said with a yawn. “I think he thinks he is my personal bodyguard.”

“Really?”

“He hisses at anyone who’s not me,” he said. “Even Mr. Logan.”

You tilted your head. “Is that right?”

“Yeah because-he wanted to take him from me so that I could catch my class but Sir Bartholomeow just hissed and jumped from my lap.”

The mental image of a tiny grumpy cat hissing at Logan was way too funny so you bit back your smile, clearing your throat.

“Yeah, Sir Bartholomeow probably feels very protective of you,” you said, making him giggle.

“But he’s a cat,” he said. “And I have powers. I can protect him better than he can protect me. I can protect everyone! You too, mommy!”

You awwed, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“Yes you can, but that’s not how it works,” you said. “Mommies protect their babies, not the other way around.”

“But I’m not a baby!”

“You’re my little bean, and you’ll always be my little bean no matter how old you are.”

“I’ll be a sprout when I grow up,” he said, looking up at you with a proud smile, making you let out a laugh.

“Mm, that’s true. A bean sprout.”

“You can still call me bean when everyone else calls me by my superhero name,” he said. “But only in secret. Because people need to take me seriously when I’m a superhero.”

You smiled to yourself.

“Noted,” you said. “Now come on, go to sleep. You have classes tomorrow.”

He heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, hugging you tighter on the bed and you stroked his hair, humming him a lullaby from when he was a baby until he fell asleep. You looked down at him, then carefully got off the bed and kissed his forehead, then pulled the covers over him and grabbed your backpack, then left the room. When you entered the kitchen, Logan was the only one who was there considering how late it was at night and you offered him a small, forced smile and grabbed a glass to fill it with water.

“So uh—you can sleep in my room if you’d like.”

You turned to him with a frown pinching your brows together. “Huh?”

“Not that I’m—not that I’m gonna be there,” Logan added in a rush. “I’m not.”

“I’m sure I can find another room, I’d hate to impose—”

“You’re not,” he cut you off. “I have a mission early in the morning and I’m not sleepy so I’m just gonna be in the Danger Room anyway.”

Your frown deepened.

“Danger Room?” you repeated. “What’s that, a night club?”

He repressed a chuckle.

“It’s a training room,” he said. “For us to…well, train. For the missions.”

“Right,” you said after a beat. “Are you sure?”

Logan nodded fervently.

“I mean it’s gonna be empty anyway.”

Even if you wanted to ask him whether his mission would be dangerous, you knew you couldn’t so you downed your water, then put your glass on the counter.

“Well I should go then,” you murmured. “Good night Logan.”

“Good night,” he said, his burning gaze following you as you walked out of the kitchen. You could feel the warmth blooming under your skin but you managed not to look back, then forced yourself to walk down the hallway to make your way to Logan’s room.

You had been here before, and it did nothing to ease the ache in your heart.

You shook your head, then slipped your backpack off your shoulder to pull your clothes out of it, then tossed the bag on the ground. After changing out of clothes into an oversized shirt, you dragged your fingertips on the bed, your heartbeat getting faster. The lump in your throat felt like it was getting bigger but you ran a hand over your face, then got in the bed. The pleasant scent of him surrounded you as soon as you put your head on the pillow and pulled the covers over you, the happy memory of you two on the bed flashing in your mind before you shook your head, then forced yourself to close your eyes, sleep pulling you into its warmth in minutes.

Contrary to last two months, you woke up incredibly well rested for some reason. When you opened your eyes and came to your senses, you frowned slightly and buried your face deeper into his pillow before you pursed your lips, rolling over to your back.

Even two months after your breakup, even if you were still furious with him, even if he had ripped your heart out, somehow his mere presence that lingered in the room calmed you down in your sleep.

You shook your head at yourself and pushed yourself off the bed to grab your toothbrush from your backpack, then made your way to the bathroom. After washing your face and fixing your hair as much as you could, you opened the small mirror cabinet to look for some toothpaste, his cologne catching your eye as you did. You quickly brushed your teeth and looked over your shoulder as if Logan could materialize out of thin air before reaching out to uncap it, then inhaled the pleasant scent.

Okay.

You were officially pathetic.

You bit inside your cheek and put the cologne back to its place, closed the cabinet and heaved a sigh at your reflection. Rubbing at your eyes, you let out another yawn and when you stepped out of the bathroom into the room, someone knocked on the door. You paused for a moment before rushing to open it but as soon as you did, your heartbeat sped up.

Fuck.

Okay, this was how Logan looked in his superhero suit then.

“Hey,” he said, giving you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I just…forgot my wallet here. You mind?”

You were never going to get used to just how hot he was, that was for sure, but this was a whole different level. You tried to peel your eyes off his muscular figure in the suit, and blinked a couple of times.

“Sure,” you said, stepping aside for him to enter the room and closed the door when he did, crossing your arms over your chest. Logan made his way to pull open a drawer, then grabbed his wallet.

“A mission then?” you asked, nibbling on your lip and he turned around, then nodded.

“Yeah.”

“A dangerous one?”

He pulled his brows together as if he was surprised by your question and shrugged his shoulders.

“Not really.”

“Is—” Your phone vibrating on the nightstand cut you off and you grabbed it to check the caller ID, your stomach doing a painful flip.

Hayes.

You declined the call and looked up at Logan but he seemed to have noticed the change in your body language so he nodded at the phone.

“The date?”

You gawked at him, then scoffed a laugh.

“Don’t.”

“Just a question.”

“Is it?” you asked and Logan shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m guessing you’ve at least talked to him whether you’re a thing or not?” he asked back and you narrowed your eyes.

“I’d have to see whether he will break up with me out of nowhere first,” you said. “People tend to do that.”

“It was to protect you—”

“Much appreciated,” you snarked. “I will just go find my fainting couch now I guess, after being protected by some guy who thinks he can make my decisions for me.”

“That’s not what—”

“Should I drop a curtsy on my way out?”

“I don’t know why you’re being like this, it’s obvious that you moved on,” he pointed out. “Pretty fast too. So what’s the problem here?”

Your jaw dropped and a dry laugh climbed up your throat.

“Well it’s the 21st century Logan, I’m allowed to move on two months after you broke up with me. I could’ve moved on two days after that to be honest with you, because to repeat; you’re the one who broke up with me—”

“I was saving your life!”

“Did I ask you to do that, dickhead?” you snapped back and let out a furious breath. “And for your information, yes. That was the date.”

Logan’s burning gaze was almost too intense on you but you refused to let it get to you.

“And he’s very sweet,” you continued, blind to the fire flashing in his eyes upon your compliment to Hayes. “And so polite, and patient and he doesn’t look like the type to just wake up one day and decide to—”

All your angry rambling came to a halt when he reached out to hold your chin between two fingers, tilting his head as he looked down at you.

“Is he now?” he asked, his voice a rumble in his chest and you could feel your eyes fluttering close for a moment before you forced yourself to open them to blink up at him.

It was almost funny, how a mere, innocent touch of his had this effect on you. The fire you had been trying to hard to breathe into life when you were with Hayes roared through you, warming your insides, making your head spin.

“Yes,” you managed to say even if your voice came out as a whisper. “He is.”

“And you’re happy with him?”

“Yes.”

You were lying, and you knew he knew you were lying.

Logan tilted your head up a little, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, making your heart skip a beat. You could practically hear Julie’s voice in your head screaming at you to ‘stand up!’ but it felt so, so hard not to lose yourself in this haze.

“And you don’t miss me at all.”

You swallowed thickly. “…No.”

A cocky smile twitched the corners of his mouth and he leaned in a little, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Not even a little?” he asked, making you let out a breath before desire took over you and you stood on your tiptoes to pull him down into a kiss. His arm sneaked around your waist as he pulled you flush against his body, his other hand cradling the back of your head, and you let yourself fall deeper and deeper into the feeling, the fire surrounding you—

“Logan, come on!” Scott’s voice reached into the room as he slammed his hand on the door, making you pull back as if Logan burned you. “We can’t be late!”

And just like that, you were pulled out of the haze.

You took a step back as Logan looked over his shoulder at the door, then turned to you, still breathing hard. You could feel the lump in your throat along with the stinging in your nose as you covered your mouth with your hands, the warmth inside you turning into ice. Logan swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath.

“Can we—”

“I think you should go now,” you managed to say, still covering your mouth, your gaze fixed on the floor and Logan lingered there for a moment as if he wanted to refuse, but then he let out a breath and walked out of the room.

You had no idea how long you stood there completely frozen, but after a couple of minutes you felt yourself sliding down to sit on the floor, your hands slipping from your mouth. The trembling breath that spilled from your lips turned into a sob, tears rushing into your eyes and making you sniffle. You bit inside your cheek hard enough to hurt, then shook your head at yourself.

“I’m an idiot,” your voice came out as a whisper and you wiped at your eyes as another sob shook your body, taking your breath away. “Oh God, I’m such an idiot.”

13 - Clouds

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james howlett #logan howlett imagine #logan x you #james logan howlett #logan xmen #wolverine logan

617 notes · View notes

hippiegoth97 · 3 months ago

Text

Random Spencer Reid Thought #2

A/N: Fucking FINALLY got something written for once. Enjoy some crumbs, lovely readers <3

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, virgin!Spencer Reid, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, fingering, groping, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dirty talk, rough sex, fluff

Some tags: @rafeyscurtainbangs @loserboysandlithium @hotwritergf @bloodibambiidoll

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Spence?" You ask Reid as you're straddling his thighs, the two of you naked in his bed as you have been so many times before. Although, it's different this time, because he's just asked you to take his virginity from him.

"Yes. I'm ready." He replies softly, sitting up against the headboard, his hands resting at your waist. He's brought you here on many occasions, though up until recently the most you'd do is make out until your lips were sore.

He'd met you at a book shop a few months ago, reaching for the same first edition of some dusty old classic. Sherlock Holmes, maybe, or perhaps even Moby Dick. He doesn't quite remember (and his unmatched memory captures everything), as he was far too focused on the gorgeous, soft hand that brushed against his own in grabbing for the book. A shared laugh soon followed, light and airy, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your beauty enraptured him instantly, and he nearly tripped over himself to give you his number and await your call to plan a date of some sort. It was so unlike him to do so, it made him seriously question his sanity for an hour or two. But after a conversation with you that lasted hours into the night when he returned home that evening, he was pleased to find he'd made a very wise decision.

Fast forward to the last month or so, and things have rapidly progressed from hand-holding and passionate kisses to touching various naked areas with your hands and mouths. You've been patient, guiding Spencer along each stepping stone towards intercourse, encouraging him, exploring him in every way imaginable. Despite your insistence (and multiple comments he receives from certain coworkers of his), he's never exactly found himself to be attractive. Not really.

He's spent most of his life a full step ahead of everyone else in terms of education and career, leaving him considerably younger than most of his peers. That fact alone has made it rather difficult to experience a lot of 'firsts' in regards to intimacy. He's been kissed before you came along, maybe even felt up a little bit, but nothing beyond that. In all honesty, a part of him is glad to have been spared the awkward adolescent groping and vulgar attempts at playing grown-up, because now he's been able to share all of these amatory encounters with you.

"I want this. I want you." Spencer reiterates as you haven't made any next moves yet.

"I want you too, baby. I just have one more question." You say softly, brushing a wispy hair out of his face before cupping his cheek.

"And what's that?" Reid asks, unable to help smiling as you gaze at him adoringly.

"Do you want me to put a condom on you, or are you okay without one?" You ask, the words sounding a bit more clinical than you'd like. But it's a fair question.

"I-I dunno. Should I?" His brow furrows, unsure how to go about this. He's aware you're on the pill, though that statistically isn't 100% effective. And he may be a virgin, but he's aware of the mess sex can make, and it might spare a bit of cleanup afterwards. He's getting stuck on it now, pondering inside his head as you play with the foil wrapper between your fingers.

You giggle at his momentary trance, shaking your head. "It's only if you want to, Spence. It's not exactly a life-altering decision."

"That's not true. You could still end up pregnant." Spencer retorts, about to rattle off statistics at you about just how many children were born to parents who assumed oral contraceptives were enough. You put a finger over his mouth to stop him, and he sighs when he realizes how intense he's getting about this. He gently moves your hand away, speaking again. "I'm sorry, I'm being silly."

"No, you're not. It's sweet that you're so concerned." You reassure him, giving him a soft kiss. He hums into you, allowing your tongue to slip into his mouth for a moment. You pull away shortly after, taking his breath with you. With your lips still brushing against his, you meet his dizzied gaze. "I only ask, because I want your first time to be extra special. And it'll feel so much better if you fuck me without a condom on." You say seductively, making his pupils dilate with lust.

"Actually, studies show that there's little to no difference in sensat-" Reid's gargantuan mind starts up again, leaving you no choice but to cut him off by taking his cock in your grasp. "-fuck." He mutters, losing his train of thought entirely, his eyes flicking down to look at the scene between his legs. His stiff, ample length throbs in your hand, pearly beads of precum dripping down the side as you lazily stroke him.

"Baby, look at me..." You purr, drawing his gaze to you. "I'm gonna ask you again. All I need is a 'yes; or 'no', okay?" You wait for him to give an understanding nod. He does, as well as letting out one of the filthiest little moans you've ever heard. "Do you want to wear a condom?" You ask, letting his dick fall from your hand for a moment. He whines at the loss, the sound sending a flare of arousal between your legs.

"No. I want to feel you. All of you. Please." Spencer begs, and you could just about melt at the pitchy whimper in his voice. You've noticed he grows rather needy in bed, and it doesn't take much to rile him up. The way he takes everything you give him like a precious gift is so goddamn intoxicating.

"So do I, Spence." You say with a smile, one he mirrors. "Is this position okay? We can do it any way you want."

"This is fine, makes me feel close to you." Reid says sweetly, squeezing your hips a little.

"You wanna warm me up a little bit first?" You ask, longing to feel his touch.

"Of course." He nods, leaning in to press his lips to yours. Spencer always starts with a kiss, no matter what it is you end up doing. It's really romantic, and makes your knees weak every time. You let him lead, allowing his tongue to dominate yours in a fervent dance. His hand leaves your waist, trailing along your supple skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His long fingers brush past your inner thighs, reaching their intended destination without him having to look. He rubs slow circles on your clit, making you moan against his mouth. It doesn't take long for him to venture further, slipping two fingers inside your drenched cunt.

"Fuck, Spence." You moan aloud, the way his fingertips can reach your g-spot so quickly and easily takes you by surprise every time. You grab hold of his cock again, mainly holding it to keep him ready. Although, the sounds you're making and how wet you are seem to be doing that job just fine. The air of the room heats up, growing thinner as the seconds pass. Unabashed moans escape the two of you as you work each other up, building towards the one thing you've both desired for so long. "I'm ready when you are." You say breathlessly, eager to finally feel Spencer inside of you.

"O-Okay." He stutters, nodding his head enthusiastically. He pulls his fingers out of your cunt, bringing them to his lips. He sucks them clean, moaning at the taste of you. "Mm."

"Dirty boy." You tease, making a deep blush bloom wildly across his cheeks. You start to stroke him again, very slowly. You get up on your knees to position yourself over him.

He watches your every move, unable to say a word. It's finally happening. He's going to have sex. With you. Reid feels like a silly teenager with all these thoughts running through his head, but they all fall away the second you bring the tip of his cock to glide through your folds. You share a moan at the sensation, gazing at one another with parted mouths. Hearts pounding in anticipation, breath stolen from your lungs, arousal leaking from you both and mixing together in the indescribable friction. Spencer could cum just like this if he isn't careful.

"Ready?" You ask one final time, just to be absolutely sure that he wants this.

"Yes." Reid nods, trying to keep himself from squirming. You feel so good, and he's not even inside you yet. He's certain he won't last long, but you've already told him a hundred times that it won't be a problem.

You don't waste anymore time, holding his cock at your entrance and gradually sinking down onto him. "Fuck, Spence. You're so big." You moan as he splits you open. He's a bit larger than you've had before, and it's been quite some time since you've done this, so every inch is deliciously stuffing you full.

Reid, on the other hand, has gone completely mute. His mind has stopped working, and all he can do is grip onto your hips with all the strength he has without hurting you. You're absolute heaven inside, if he believed in such a thing. So hot, and slick, and snug, squeezing around his dick perfectly. He finally understands what all the fuss is about. He could just about cry from happiness in this moment. Once you're fully seated on him, your walls constrict out of reflex, which appears to get Spencer's sex-addled brain working again. "Oh, my...fuck- I, um, wow..." He babbles, unsure what to do with himself. His hands fidget at your sides aimlessly, and his expression twists and bends in all manner of ways as he attempts to get a grip on one singular thought.

"Shh, look at me, Spencer." You coo to him, leading his chin with your finger. He meets your eyes, though his own desperately want to roll back into his fucking skull. "That's it, baby. Just breathe, alright? Nice and slow, 'kay?" You guide him through the initial shock, nodding together slowly as he takes deep breaths. "There you go. I'm gonna start moving now, okay? Don't worry if you cum early, and just tell me if you need me to stop." You say softly, keeping things light and low-pressure. The last thing you need is him worrying about his performance.

"Okay." He breathes, chest shuddering as you start to ride him. You lift yourself up, almost letting him fall out altogether, and come back down at the same pace. You do this a few more times, gradually picking up a bit of speed.

"That feel good, baby?" You ask him, rolling your hips as you set a steady rhythm.

"Yeah, so fucking good." Spencer huffs, feeling close already. But he puts that out of his mind, focusing instead on enjoying this with you. "Do you feel good?" He asks, needing more than your vulgar moans as confirmation.

"So good, Spence. You fill me up so well, I'm so fucking wet for you." You admit these lewd thoughts to him, no stranger to being vocal during intimacy with him. Reid enjoys it immensely, adding words to the actions just makes everything astoundingly better. "Tell me how it feels to fuck me, Spencer." You say through a moan, riding him a little bit faster now.

Spencer groans at your increased speed, doing his best to hold back his orgasm. "I-It's exactly what I'd always hoped it would be." He starts. "I can hardly find the words to describe how much I'm enjoying this right now. You've blown my mind to pieces with this perfect fucking pussy." His grip on your waist grows rougher, taking you by surprise. He's following his instincts, leading you with his hands as you bounce on his cock. His assistance punctuates every landing you make, your noises growing louder as pleasure builds inside you. "I can feel you making a mess all over me, fucking soaked." He says, marveling at the drenched patch on his crotch. Your arousal glistens in the light as it's caught on his coarse hair and pale skin. "It drives me crazy to know you're loving this just as much as I am."

"I am, baby. You're so deep, hitting all the right places inside me." You say, speeding up a bit more. Spencer's hands migrate to your ass, squeezing your flesh roughly as he continues to keep up with you. You're surprised he's lasted this long, oddly proud of him for doing so.

"Fuck, you're incredible." Spencer groans, getting dangerously close to the edge again. He'd tell you to slow down, but everything feels too good to stop. Instead, he tries to drag you down with him, starting with diving face first into your tits. His mouth nips and sucks at your flesh wildly, struggling to land where he wants with your ceaseless bouncing. The noises he makes are borderline animalistic, groaning and grunting against your chest.

"Jesus, Spence!" You can't help letting out a breathless laugh at his urgency, picking up on the fact that his end is closer than your own. "You wanna try to help me out?" You offer, eager to feel him take some of the control. He doesn't say anything, just nods and makes an unintelligible sound at you. He thrusts his hips up, following what his primal urges are telling him to do. It appears to be working, given the shocked gasp that leaves your lungs at his effort. He keeps doing it, his mind turning to mush more and more as he fucks into your cunt to meet you halfway. "Oh my god! Yeah, keep doing that." You pant the words out, clinging to him by the shoulders.

Reid grins against your flesh, still biting and suckling while he pounds into you over and over. He's doing it, he's really doing it. He's keeping control of himself, he's going to make it. "Feel so fuckin' good, gonna make you cum, gonna make you scream, I promise...promise, promise..." Spencer murmurs to you, vowing to not give up, even though his balls are screaming for release right now. He has to get you there, if it's the last thing he'll ever do. "Such a perfect pussy, so good for me, so, so wet, fuck-" He groans when your walls constrict around him a bit, almost making him blow his load entirely.

"Don't stop, baby, you can do it, fuck me, make me cum, please, Spence..." You plead as your orgasm builds near the point of toppling over. His filthy mouth and feral actions have set you on fire from the inside out. You knew sleeping with Spencer would be special, and intense. But this is an entirely new level. His craving of you has blocked out all else, leaving him only with the mission to chase release. His, and your own.

"Oh, god, lay down, lay down, I'm gonna cum, gonna cum..." Spencer babbles, attempting to push you over onto your back. You follow his lead, his cock still sheathed inside you as you let him lead you where he wants. As soon as your body hits the mattress, he proceeds to ram himself into you as hard and as fast as he can.

"Fuck! Spencer!" You cry out as he hits an entirely new angle inside you, your ass resting over his knees as he thrusts forward. His hands grip your hips so hard, sure to leave dark bruises once he's through with you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna fill you up, gonna cum deep inside this pussy..." Reid grunts, sweat slicking him down, stomach clenching as he's about lose it.

"Keep going, baby. Don't stop, I'm almost there. Cum for me." You whine as his cock slams into you again and again.

"Fuck!" He nearly shouts when he finally feels it, his balls tightening, bliss washing over him, his hips stuttering as he fills you with thick ropes of white.

All you can do is bear witness as Spencer cums, harder than he ever has in his life. His brows knit together, mouth falling open as he moans so fucking loud. He keeps slamming his cock into you, hoping to pull you down alongside him. Feeling his load spill inside of you, as well as his desperate thrusts sends you tumbling over the edge. "Oh, god! Spencer!" You cry as your orgasm rips through you mercilessly. Your pussy clenches down on Reid's spent length, making him gasp as he keeps thrusting to get you off. You thighs shake violently, stars blurring your vision, hands clawing at the sheets beneath you. It's the most beautiful thing Spencer has ever seen.

You both slowly come down from your high, soaked in sweat and totally spent. Spencer carefully pulls out of you, though you still wince a little. "You okay?" He asks, noting your discomfort.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit worn out." You laugh lightly, crawling over to the right end of the bed to lie down. Spencer joins you, pulling the covers over you both and taking you into his arms.

"Sorry about that, I don't know what came over me." He says, a little embarrassed for losing control the way he did.

"It's okay, baby. More than okay, actually." You reassure him once again, stroking his damp face with your thumb. "I'm surprised you had it in you." You chuckle, and he does, too.

"So am I. I guess you...bring it out in me." He explains, and you nod in understanding.

"And I take that as a compliment." You say with a sleepy smile. "Did you have enjoy yourself?" You ask.

"Very much. Even more than I thought I would." Spencer says earnestly, making your heart skip a beat.

"Me too, Spence. And I'm so happy you chose me to enjoy this with." You reply, leaning in to give him a tender kiss. This night has been the best one of your lives (so far), and you look forward to sharing many more moments just like this one in the future. Together.

#hippiegoth97 #fanfiction #smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #virgin!spencer reid

403 notes · View notes

cherryclxud · 8 months ago

Text

Catch me if you can Lord Holmes pt2

(ENOLA HOLMES)!Sherlock x BRIDGERTON! reader

-------------------------------------------------------------

Description: a writer by the name of Marcus Bradford has taken the Ton by storm with his weekly edition chapter of a crime story, Sherlock is tasked with finding Marcus Bradford and solving the case of the abominable bride. but what if meeting a certain Bridgerton girl distracts him from the case?

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: none

Taglist <3 : @frost-queen @siannaplmn @annesunlight @jolixtreesunn @probabydeadbynow @chloepluto1306 @gayandfairycore @queenfairyfangirl @viylikescats @hipsternerd9 @delusional-4-fake-people

read below for credits.

---------------------------------------------------------------

SLEEPING AT 221B BAKER STREET USUALLY came easy to Enola. Seeing as there was quite literally very little for her to do, however, for the past 2 nights it has become increasingly difficult for her not to get out of bed and shout at her brother to put the violin down.

Sherlock was stuck, and Enola could tell by his incessant playing of the violin, the notes he was playing were all gloomy grey. With a sigh, she put her head under the pillow and slammed her hand over it to cover her ears in the hope of respite from the sound. Of course, for the first 4 hours he was playing Enola felt sympathy, but when his playing started to get in the way of her sleep that's when her sympathy towards Sherlock turned to contempt towards the violin.

She had reached the point where she imagined scenarios of her grabbing scissors and cutting the strings, or of her taking the violin and throwing it out the window.

Somehow the music playing seemed to penetrate through the pillow, making the girl move the pillow, turn to her back and glare at the ceiling. She got up and stomped the the drawing room where her brother sat there playing the insipid instrument.

“SHERLOCK” she shouted over the music causing her brother to play a wrong note before stopping and turning to her. “Enola? Shouldn't you be asleep by now?” he looked out the window and saw the moon still high in the sky.

Enola crossed her arms while rolling her eyes, “geez Sherlock that's a great idea, i was getting quite tired and had no idea how to remedy it, you have truly opened my eyes” Her voice was full of sarcasm yet Sherlock paid no mind to it as he was distracted.

“Hmm yes well I suppose you should get to it”.

Enola scoffed as she saw her brother pick up the violin about to resume his playing once more “Sherlock! I can't if you insist on playing at this time.” she pointed to the instrument as the older Holmes looked down at it with a sigh.

“Ah, I see, my apologies sister I seemed to have gotten carried away” he places the instrument on its stand before slamming it down on the settee with a sigh and closes his eyes as he continues to think.

Enola turns around, happy that the peace and quiet has finally infiltrated the home, she goes on her way to her room and just as she was about to go in she stops. She turns to look to her brother, she really felt pity for him at this point, losing sleep over looking for this man who could quite literally be anywhere in England.

“Sherlock, what's wrong?”

Sherlock opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at his sister. “Nothing Enola you should go to bed, I promise I won't play anymore”

He watches as his sister walks across the room only stopping at the coffee table to pick up his tobacco pipe and hold it in between her lips in thought. “Oh look at me I'm Sherlock and I must find out everything about everyone yet never let anyone find out anything about me” she spoke in a mock deep voice as she sat next to him.

HE leaned forward and snatched the pipe from her mouth before wiping the mouthpiece with his shirt. Enola watched as he lit the pipe with a match and smoked in silence, a frown etched on his face. She decided to change the subject hoping it would get her brother to open up more about what was bothering him.

“Y/n and i have been writing to each other”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow “y/n Bridgerton? The viscount's sister?” Enola nodded

“Yes we have been speaking since we met Nonestop, she is actually quite amusing.” Enola smiled recounting the letters they both shared. Sherlock rolled his eyes but deep inside was happy that his sister had found someone to be friends with. He was worried that his taking care of her had caused his disinterest in forging real connections with people had spread to her. He didn't want her to lean on him and not connect with anyone else.

He found himself grateful for y/n's sudden but effective presence in his sister's life.

“She's quite like you, you know?” Enola spoke looking nowhere in particular. This caught Sherlock's attention as he looked back to his sister, “How so?”

“Well for starters she's smart…well not as smart as you, no one as smart as you” Enola rolled her eyes before grabbing a small rubber ball she found lying on the floor and bounced it up and down a few times, “She reads a lot, she told me when her brother would return from oxford for the summer she would take the books he'd read and read and study his essays and annotations”

Sherlock, who was staring at the floor where the ball was bouncing, chuckled quietly remembering one year at Oxford when Anthony had returned from his stay with his family missing the book he was meant to be studying for the semester and sheets of essays he had worked on during the time off, and how frazzled he was trying to rewrite what he could from memory, only to have it delivered to him with a letter of apology from his sister later that night.

“You know she even read that boring book you wrote on like the two hundred and forty types of tobacco” she offhandedly spoke not noticing her brother's smile dropped “Two hundred and forty-three”

“I believe that that was the only copy sold brother mine,” she smirked

“I'll have you know I sold three copies” he grumbled looking away.

Enola laughed “That's because Mycroft and I each bought a copy in support of you”

Sherlock scoffed and stood up walking to the window and looked outside pretending to be angry at his sister.

“Oh don't sulk brother you know that doesn't work on me, the print shop refused to print any more copies of your books in advance, that's how bad it did.” She leaned back in her seat with a smirk, “She invited me to breakfast at Bridgerton house tomorrow, can you take me there?”

Sherlock turned with a nod “I can drop you off and th-” he stopped mid-sentence as an idea struck him, “what did you just say?”

Enola looked at her brother worried that he was too busy to take her “She invited me for breakfast tomorrow and I wish for you to take me there. If you are busy I can take a carriage so no worri-”

“No no before that”

Enola tried to replay the conversation “I told you not to sulk, then that the book you wrote won't get printed in advance any longer”

Sherlock then turned to face away and walked to his desk that was placed in the drawing room and picked up one of the many newspapers that were turned to page 4, turned to the back of the paper and read down the page till he reached what he was looking for.

‘Tibalt's Printing Press

5th Northumberland street

London’

Sherlock smiled looking down at the paper, “Of course, Minnie always ends up in the kitchen when she's hungry.”

Enolas eyes turn the the left as she racks her brain trying to think what in the world her brother is going on about, “pardon?”

She watched as her brother scribbled some writing on a piece of paper before marching to his pin board on the wall and sticking a pin through the newspaper set on the last page. He stepped back with a smile, Enola stood up from her seat and walked to her brother's side.

“Sherlock, is everything alright?”

The brother looked at her and nodded “It's perfect, all back on track thanks to your friend,” Enola raised an eyebrow.

“Y/n? How did she help? Wait where are you going this late?” She watched as her brother picked up his coat and the paper he scribbled on. He walked up to her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

“Don't worry dear sister, assuming all goes to plan I'll be back in time to take you to break your fast with the Bridgertons, sleep well!” And with that, he walked out of the flat door closing it behind him leaving Enola alone in the drawing room.

With a sigh she blew out the remaining candle that illuminated the room, her eyes stopped at the violin that stood defenceless in the room. A smirk found its way on her face as she looked back at the door making sure her brother wouldn't be back.

………….

THE CANDLE BURNED LIGHTING ONE corner of y/n's bed-chamber, her eyes fled over words on the page of the book she was reading, a new author writing under the title ‘A Lady’ had written a book named ‘Pride and Prejudice’, y/n was completely infatuated with the idea that the author had so boldly revealed that whoever she was, she was a woman.

Unlike Lady Whistledown, this writer resorted to writing harmless fiction that was incredible to read, and unlike y/n she was courageous enough to reveal she was a female, and yet it was a complete shame in y/n's eyes to see that the books didn't do as well as she thought it deserved.

She pulled her knees to her chest as she relaxed against the window, sitting on the window seat to be able to look outside easily. It had become her routine to sit at the window every night, therefore to anyone else seeing her wouldn't warrant any suspicion, but y/n wouldn't sleep until something in the scenery outside her window changed.

She just about turns to a new page when from the corner of her eye she sees a light flickering outside her window facing the garden, turning to look outside, she sees the figure of the personal valet of Anthony walking in the garden with a candlelit lantern, stopping mid-walk he turns to her window direction and then blows out his candle.

Y/n gave a smile and blew out her own candle, drowning out the last shred of light in her room, and stood up from her seat, shutting the book and placed it on her dresser. And with that, the valet walked back into the house leaving the girl to go to sleep peacefully.

…….

THE CARRIAGE WHEELS STOPPED IN FRONT OF THE printing shop letting Sherlock step out before paying the driver. The windows were illuminated by the candles inside the print shop, he watched as two men worked on the printing of the weekly newspaper.

Sherlock walked over to the door of the print shop and tried to push it open only to find it was locked closed, however, the attempt to open it had gained him the attention of the two men who looked at each other before turning to Sherlock.

The older one of the two motioned to the younger man to go deal with him as he went back to work. The younger man rolled his eye as he walked to the door and unlocked it before stepping out to stand face to face with the detective, “You know we don't get many people coming here that don't know how to read, this being a print shop and all”

Sherlock stared blankly, the man then pointed at the sign hanging in the window “It says closed, there I read it for you, come back in the morning” he then walked back inside but as he went to shut the door Sherlock stopped it with his foot causing the man to turn back to him.

“I'm here to find out about Marcus Bradford!”

The man tried to push Sherlock back “If you're a fan then you have no luck here, we only print what we get given.” managing to push Sherlock's foot out he went to slam the door only to once again get stopped but this time by his hand. Once the door was open again then holmes pulled his hand back in pain, shaking it to relieve the soreness.

“I'm a detective, I just have a few questions regarding Mr Bradford and I'll be on my way.”

The printshop employee scratched his chin before motioning for Holmes to follow him inside, he took him to the older man who had previously sent him to deal with the problem.

“Theo? I thought I told you to deal with it” the old man spoke, Theo, however, sighed “yeah well he's a detective, won't leave”

The old man's hands stopped working on the press as he turned to meet Sherlock Holmes’ eye, “Aye, yes I recognise you, you're that Holmes guy, to what do I owe the honour?”

Theo spoke up before Sherlock could “he says he's looking for Bradford, Mr Tibalt.”

“You a fan Mr. Holmes?” Tibalt spoke, prompting Sherlock to glare in his direction.

“I assure you quite the contrary, I have been just tasked with looking into him and his background” Sherlock made sure to walk up to the elder man and stand about a foot away from him, standing taller than him he was trying to add an intimidation factor “I would appreciate your cooperation”

Tibalt stood staring at Sherlock for a good 10 seconds before speaking “I'm not sure if I can actually be of help, I haven't met the man, and neither has Theo, he doesn't deliver the stories himself”

“Then who does?”

“It really depends.”

“On?”

“4 men rotate in delivering the story every week, each one wears a mask so I don't see their faces. They don't say a word, all I get is the story and a letter with instructions on what to do along with the payment.”

Dead end.

“And when was the last time one of the men?” Sherlock asked.

“About an hour before you graced us with your own presence. He'd be long gone. All I can tell you is I have never met mr Bradford or had any personal contact with him.”

Sherlock nodded in thought, his only chance of unveiling Mr. Bradford had quite literally beat him to the chase. Tibalt turned and faced away from Sherlock grabbing a freshly printed newspaper copy, “I can't help you much about Bradford but I can tell you this” he handed Sherlock the new concept that was due for release in the morning, “Something has changed, he's introducing new characters in the midst of the story, and it's clear that this chapter has shifted it all to focus on this character. I assumed it would interest you seeing as for the past couple of copies he had been facing what I assume is a dry spell of ideas”

Sherlock looked at Tibalt before opening the paper to page 4, his eyes skimmed over the paper and suddenly stopped in his tracks, “Detective Sherrinford?” He looked up to the print shopkeeper who shrugged his shoulders and turned to get back to printing the rest of the papers.

Understanding that he most likely wouldn't be able to get more information, he left his address and told them to let him know if there were any updates, then thanked them and left to go home.

……..

LONDON WAS BUSTLING THAT MORNING, the weekly paper distribution brought by an onslaught of arguments and opinions about the new chapter in the story. The introduction of the character Detective Sherrinford had brought about mixed feelings.

Some believed that Bradford was losing his touch and was doing what he could to keep the story going, others believed that this was just a long-winded way of Marcus telling them that the real story was about to begin, especially with the way he ended off this week's chapter.

“The game is afoot?” Enola put down the newspaper against her lap, she looked towards Sherlock who sat across from her in the carriage on the way to the Bridgertons. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved the curtains to gauge how far along they were until the house, “A change I presume, seems Marcus Bradford has decided to take the story in a different direction” he replied, there was a tinge of frustration in his voice.

The carriage stopped in front of the Bridgerton house and Sherlock stepped out before helping Enola out next, the footman took them into the house where they were allowed into the drawing room where Anthony, Benedict, Eloise, Gregory and Violet sat.

Anthony being the first to see them stood up in surprise when he saw the Holmes sibling there, “Lord Holmes what a pleasant surprise this morning” he stood up and walked to them and shook their hands before inviting them further into the drawing room in the direction of his family, “this is my mother.” Violet stood from her seat with a smile, as Sherlock took her hand and placed a light kiss on it, then Anthony introduced the rest of his siblings in the room before turning to Sherlock “To what do I owe this fine visit to Holmes?”

“I invited Enola for breakfast brother” y/n who had just walked into the room spoke as she approached the group. Sherlock watched as she and Enola hugged, then as she turned to him and shook his hand, “Good morning Lord Holmes, it's very nice to see you again”

“Likewise Miss Bridgerton” he nodded to her. “I presume you have read the new chapter out today lord holmes, He added a new character what was his name” y/n put her hand the her chin as she pretended to have forgotten the name which Sherlock could of course detect however decided not to call her out on her actions and played along “detective Sherrinford i presume is the name you are trying to remember miss Bridgerton”

“Ahh yes, you are quite right lord holmes, I'm quite forgetful when it comes to these things” she lied jokingly as she spoke, making a small smile play on Sherlock's own lips.

“It's a shame seeing as the author has now added this character, who is a recluse detective who will possibly that forever to solve a case with already many plotholes, the only way the story can go is down.”

y/ns smile fell for a second but she made sure to replace it quickly enough to not be noticeable, “I don't know, I have come to take quite the liking to Detective Sherrinford, I think he will do great to solve this case, I think this story is getting better” she spoke with a smile.

As Sherlock and y/n spoke no one really paid any mind to them. Anthony and Benedict were busy talking, Enola had struck up a conversation with Eloise and Gregory was reading the story in the paper, and no one was paying them any mind…

But violet, she could see it.

Her daughter never took the time to talk to a man for this long about anything, not even about books or stories there was something there. And she was adamant about helping it grow.

“I don't know lord holmes, I would have thought you’d like the character, I think Sherrinford is exactly like you.” y/n’s words caused Enola and Eloise to look towards them in shock, “y/n! You are completely right, how could I not make that connection earlier myself “Enola spoke as she walked to the pair quickly.

“What are you two on about, the man is nothing like me”

And there stood the three arguing about why Sherrinford is or isn't like Sherlock until inevitably, a maid walked into the drawing room and called out that breakfast was ready.

“I guess this means I should take my leave not, Enola ill pick you up in 3 hours” Just as Sherlock was speaking about leaving, Violet interrupted his farewells “Lord Holmes please do join us for breakfast”

Sherlock just about shook his head and was about to decline before Violet spoke again “I had the cook prepare extra just for you” and with that, he couldn't refuse, no matter how much he wanted to.

….

The family and the Holmes siblings filtered into the dining area, Enola and y/n sat next to each other, and just about when Gregory was about to sit next to y/n on her other side, his mother motioned for him to sit elsewhere leaving Sherlock no other seat but that one, not that it really bothered him.

The families started eating and exchanging conversation, the atmosphere was delightful, and Enola was aglow, it had been a long while since she sat down for breakfast with a family seeing as usually she and Sherlock wake up at different times and end up eating anything.

“Lord Sherlock, it really is a pleasure having you and your sister here, I must say I'm surprised I havent seen you in the ton more often, no soirees nor balls” Violet spoke as she cut another piece of the omelette in her plate. Sherlock swallowed the food in his mouth before nodding to Violet “That is indeed true viscountess Bridgerton, I simply haven't found the time to integrate into society, there's too much work and research and clients. In fact it is my fault Enola has yet to debut, I had been meaning to help her this season however i got sidetracked.”

Violet nodded her face full of sympathy towards the two siblings, it was a known fact around the ton that the Holmes family had lost not one but both parents in the same year, their father had been taken ill for months before suffering through an unfortunately painful exit and their mother had been so in love with him and followed him mere months after due to a broken heart.

Since then little has been known about the Holmes family, they had become reclusive and barely interacted with the rest of the ton. Sherlock and Enola, who were 9 and 2 at the time, were put under the care and sanction of their older brother Viscount Mycroft who himself was 15. It was like the Holmeses ceased to exist any longer, that was until a few years ago when Viscount Mycroft got married and Sherlock moved out to a flat in Central London, it was widely believed that Sherlock found the Viscount Holmes’ new wife to be unappealing to share a mansion with, sooner or later in a visit back home he decided he would take his younger sister to live with him.

“Well better late than never I say” Violet spoke softly with a smile targeted at Sherlock. Her eyes flicker to y/n who was eating her food quietly while listening to the conversation then back to Sherlock. “you know, there is a soiree tomorrow night at the Dunphrees,”

Anthony stared at his mother in shock understanding what she was doing “Mother!”

Violet of course ignored him knowing Anthony really is only good for ruining her plans. “We shall be attending, I say you should come”

Enola looked up from her plate excited “Oh can we brother, it sounds like so much fun” y/n snorted quickly while holding back a laugh. Sherlock glanced at her before looking to his sister whose eyes was practically begging him, “ Enola you don't had a dress for the occasion and I doubt one can be made in time”

Y/n smirked as she looked at him, “That is no worry at all lord holmes i have 4 daughters surely I have a couple of dresses to spare that will be her size.” Violet interjected. y/n and Enola looked at each other excitedly, Sherlock's lips pressed together in a semi-frustrated smile before looking at his sister and y/n. Enola looked very excited as she shared a hug with y/n, and for a moment his eyes lingered on the Bridgerton girl, he was thankful for her existence in his sister's life, she was in fact a very interesting person to talk to, and maybe having her around would make him feel less guilty over not always being there for his sister. The said Bridgerton girl turned to face Sherlock awaiting his decision, only to be met with his own eyes looking at her, he quickly looked away while clearing his throat embarrassed at having been caught staring at her, but this action did not elude Violet’s eyee, she smiled softly at the bashfulness of sherlock.

With a sigh, he nodded albeit quite a bit reluctantly but part of him knew that Enola needed this, and in fact he needed a break, so maybe he needed this too. “I don't see why not, God knows we require a chance for respite.” Enola gleamed at the thought of attending her first soiree tomorrow.

The families continued their breakfast and their endless conversations, many topics including the breach of secrecy of Anthony and Sherlock Oxford days, they even told stories of the Duke of Hastings from their days living together. Enola revealed quite a bit of her childhood activities, and the two siblings shared their distaste for their sister in law, hyacinth chatted about how their elder sister Daphne would have almost been married to the prince of Prussia had it not been for her love for the duke, this conversation managed to segway into Eloise talking about Lady Whistledown and who she may be.

“Speaking of hidden writers,” y/n spoke as she turned to look at Sherlock “How has your hunt for Mr Bradford lord homles, someone of your calibre must have reached some conclusion.”

Sherlock nearly choked on the tea he was drinking, everyone at the table went quiet actually quite curious about his findings. “Lord Sherlock you found Mr. Marcus Bradford?” Gregory exclaimed, having been quite a fan of the writer's weekly updates.

Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief the detective shook his head “I'm afraid I'm still looking, he has proven to be quite a difficult man to find. I went to the printing shop that prints and distributes the weekly paper, unfortunately, they have no clue who he is either, seems he doesn't deliver the chapters himself for all I know he is on the other side of England.”

y/n’s eyes moved to the side in thought as everyone sighed in frustration expressing their disappointment in the possibility of not knowing the writer behind the book.

“Well that would make no sense” y/n spoke up causing all eyes to move to her.

“It makes perfect sense miss Bridgerton, there are other places in England a man can live other than Mayfair” Sherlock spoke sarcastically, confused as to why y/n would find such a simple ordeal strange, his words caused both Anthony and Benedict to chuckle.

y/n glared at her brothers then directed her glare to Sherlock “Laugh all you want men, I have a point to make. Tell me Lord Holmes why would a man on the other side of England write a story only for it to be published in Mayfair only? Surely he wants to see the fruits of his labour in person, even if he doesn't take the credit for it.”

“What makes you so sure that the man only has it published in Mayfair and not all over England?” Sherlock spoke, now completely serious, of course, he was quite upset that a point like this could have fled his mind. He had been too busy looking for the man himself when the actual paper held most of the clues he would need anyway. He thought it would be best to listen to y/n seeing as it was her words that triggered him to find the first clue in the first place.

Something told him that she knew much more than she let on about this case.

“Simple. We receive two different newspapers per week, one is the English paper, and the other is the Mayfair weekly paper, and yet the story only appears in the Mayfair weekly. That means your elusive writer is either an idiot-” Violet scolded her daughter for her use of an insult, however y/n brushed it off with an apologetic look aimed at her, before facing Sherlock again “-and is sending a copy of his writing to every separate town and city in England rather than just placing it in the English paper that goes all over England, or he is walking among us here in Mayfair”

The two stared eye to eye for a good 10 seconds in silence that even Colin had to clear his throat to almost ease the tension. Sherlock was the first to speak, “Well deduced Miss Bridgerton, you seemed to have caught on to a point I seemed to have missed” he smirked, “This is the second time, one more time and I may just have to engage you.” y/n’s smile dropped at his words and her face heated up as violet and Enola let out a quiet gasp. Sherlock cleared up his throat and quickly went to fix his wording.

“Engage you in other cases i mean, sometimes I could use an outsider's eye on the matter” he spoke while avoiding y/n’s eyes, his fingers tracing the rim of the teacup in his hands. y/n was in a similar situation but had a small smile that danced on her lips.

“Holmes doesn't jest” y/ns smiled as her eyes shot up to look at Anthony who had made a habit of ruining the moment “Y/n is a young lady and shouldn’t really be exposed to some of the cases you deal with, don't you agree” she glared at him. “And what of it brother? What does my being a lady have to do with a case? It’s not like crime stops when I walk in the room just because I'm a lady.” she spoke while rolling her eyes, she knew her brother meant well but sometimes he was overbearing.

“y/n-”

“Actually viscount Bridgerton, I completely understand your argument” Sherlock's words caused y/n to look at him disappointed “However as Miss Bridgerton has worded it wonderfully, crime doesn't stop because the fairer sex exists. I truly believe there is no such thing as protecting them from the truth, only hiding the truth. I think Miss Bridgerton would benefit from being challenged by a few questions, no need to see a crime scene herself. I do this with Enola all the time, and she doesn't seem to mind at all.”

Enola quickly nodded at her brother's words in agreement “It's true Lord Bridgerton, it’s quite fun, like solving puzzles, it keeps me occupied and gives me the ability to spend time with Sherlock.”

Violet interjected before Anthony could speak again,” These are quite bold ideas you share lord holmes, not many men would agree with you.”

“And not many women too” Eloise muttered with an eye roll.

But Sherlock kept his resolve and looked to y/n and his sister before looking back to Violet, “Well viscountess Bridgeton, I am quite a fanatic of what many may call strange ideals. I believe that a day will come, when a war will break out,” the whole table gasped in shock at his words, “one half of the human race against the other, the invisible army always standing by the men's shoulder, there has to come a day where us men stand back and view women as equals who deserve respect and demand to be heard”

“I think it's a wonderful idea lord holmes, you letting y/n help out in your cases that is.” Violet broke the silence as she clasped her two hands together, she met eyes with y/n who smiled at her, she smiled back and gave her daughter a wink.

If he were to be the man her daughter would love, then she would rather back her up than be against her and cause her daughter to abstain from the thought of love or marriage in general.

Gregory sat up excitedly “Lord Holmes! When you do find Mr. Bradford do you think you can get him to sign a copy of his books for me?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow with a smile at the excitement in his voice “Thats IF, but I don't see why not”

“No, it’s WHEN, Lord Holmes, I’m sure you are much closer to the man than you think” y/n spoke while motioning to Anthony valet to fetch her more tea with a smile. Sherlock looked at the teacup in y/n’s hands in confusion “I’m not sure im any closer to finding him, no one in the ton knows him”

The valet held the teacup as he poured tea for y/n as she spoke “Who says Marcus Bradford is the writer's real name?” it was like clockwork, Sherlock looked at y/n as she spoke, and the teacup slipped out of the valet's hands dropping some of the contents of the cup straight into y/ns lap. Sherlock quickly grabbed a tablecloth from in front of him and started dabbing the tea on her lap, them action caused her eyes to widen and for her to stand up quickly and move away, Anthony and Benedict stood up, both rushing to their sister, countless apologies were spewed from the valet's mouth. It was actually quite chaotic.

“It’s fine, I'm fine” y/n spoke with a nervous smile. “ one of the downsides of being a girl is wearing many layers, though I suppose in this case it is an upside” she let out a giggle while looking at everyone, her eyes moved to the valet who was still apologising “no harm no foul Hudson, I'm fine”

“I may have to get changed though, Enola,” she turned to face her friend, “Why don't you join me, we can look for a dress for you to wear for tomorrow's soiree”

The younger Holmes got up with a smile and joined her as the two rushed off to y/n’s room.

Everyone returned to their seats and slowly continued on with their conversation, however, Sherlock felt uneasy now in his seat, looking up in front of him his eyes met with Anthony’s eyes, who almost seemed to be glaring back at him. The eldest Bridgerton brother hadn't missed how Sherlock reacted to the tea dropped on his sister, he wanted to diminish any feelings that may be growing from y/n towards Holmes as fast as possible, to him Sherlock wasn't right for his sister.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: First of all I am absolutely blown away by the number of likes and requests for tags I have gotten, I love you all, literally thought this story was going to flop. I'm sorry it took a while for the second chapter to come out hopefully next chapter won't take as long. TRULY LIKE WOW.

This chapter has so many easter eggs feel free to let me know which ones you found out through my ask box or comments, and if there is smth you would like me to add in any upcoming chapters let me know too<3

----------------------------------------------------------------

I do not own Bridgerton

I do not own Sherlock or Enola Holmes

and I most certainly don't own the abominable bride story

I do not own Sherrinford

they belong to their rightful owners

I only own the fic idea.

#bridgerton #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #enola holmes #enola and sherlock #bridgerton reader #bridgerton x reader #sherlock holmes fanfiction #crossover #fanfic #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock #imagine #bridgerton x enola holmes #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader

447 notes · View notes

fuckyeahdindjarin · 11 months ago

Text

Buttons

The request from @toomanytookas: I have such fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to sew on her old Singer. Obviously a WILDLY different context for a million different reasons, but I love the idea of of Pin showing Joel how to sew or just explaining the general mechanics of using the machine. Maybe some physical guidance/touching a la the pottery scene in Ghost?

If you'd prefer to play with other characters, it would be sweet to see her teach Ellie now that she's working at the shop and I imagine she'd be curious about it!

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 900 words | warnings: rated M for dirty thoughts and slightly dirty talk, outrageous flirting, topless Joel Miller | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

‘Nice tits, Miller!’

Joel chokes on his corn chowder as Tommy’s voice rings loud and obnoxious in the half-empty cafeteria, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he makes himself comfortable opposite him, tray hitting the table with a clatter.

‘Seriously though, put them away before Maria sees you. This is a family place, y’know.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘Shut up, jackass.’

Tommy studies the familiar green plaid shirt on his brother that is sitting open to the sternum. ‘Buttons fell off, huh?’

‘Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Pin gettin’ a bit rough with ya?’

Joel splutters, raising his fork in what he hopes is a menacing reproach. ‘Hey!’

‘Just jokin’, big bro. And no judgement if she is.’

He scoffs. ‘This is gettin’ real weird, Tommy -’

‘Why don’t you ask her to sew ’em back for you?’

‘She ain’t my seamstress.’

‘She’s a seamstress. And your girlfriend.’

Joel snorts. ‘You ask Maria to do all your chores for you?’

Tommy shrugs and replies around a mouthful of mashed potato. ‘Ask Pin to teach you then. What's that they say about fishermen and fishin’?’

He has a point, Joel has to concede. That’s how he ends up at your studio that afternoon, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you on the sewing machine. He likes the steady, mechanical staccato of the needle, the whirring wheel and the metallic squeak of the pedal as your hands and feet all move in almost nonchalant choreography.

He knows that under that ease lies years of experience, and there’s an understatedness about your movements that makes him stop and stare every time you're at the antique sewing machine.

He waits patiently for a lull, not wanting to disrupt your rhythm. When you pause to inspect the stitching you’ve been working on, Joel knocks on the doorframe.

His lips twitch when you startle, eyes wide as your head whips around at him, and it brings him right back to the day you meet, just a few feet from where he stands now.

But then you break into a wide smile. ‘What are you doing sneaking up on me, Joel Miller?’

He closes the distance with three steps, bending down to drop a kiss on your lips. ‘Just wanted to say hello - and to ask for a favour.’

You stare up at him, admiring the way a stray lock curls over his eyes. ‘What is it?’

Joel tugs on the front of his shirt. ‘Was wonderin’ if you can teach me how to sew my buttons back on.’

You eye his neckline, which is suspiciously low. ‘I thought you were just trying something new,’ you quip.

Arching an eyebrow, he asks, ‘Is it workin’ for you, sweetheart?’

Hooking your finger into the open V of the shirt, you grin. ‘I’m not complaining, but it doesn’t hurt to fix it. Take it off.’

Joel huffs, joking, ‘Buy me dinner first, at least?’

You watch his fingers push the little buttons out of the holes, baring broad chest and freckles with every downward inch. You hum when he gets to the bottom of the shirt and it hangs open, nothing but bare skin under it. ‘No undervest?’

‘Feel like showin’ off today,’ he winks and disrobes with a smooth roll of his shoulders.

You can’t help it, your breath catches - at the strong shoulders, the soft belly, the way he has one hand on his hip - and by the self-satisfied curl of his lips, you know he knows.

Clearing your throat, you stand and take his shirt from his grasp, the warmth of the fabric comforting in your hands. ‘Come sit over here.’

‘We’re not using the machine?’

‘Not for sewing buttons,’ you reply, opening a little box to find matching ones for his shirt.

‘Okay, step one,’ you seat yourself next to him and hand him the supplies. ‘Thread the needle.’

The thread looks more like a blade of the most delicate hair in between his thumb and index finger, and the needle comically small. But his hands are remarkably steady, and he surprises you by nimbly pushing the thread through the eye on his second try.

‘Pull the thread through and keep going,’ you instruct, snipping it off with scissors when you’re satisfied with the length. ‘Now, we need to knot the end. Loop the thread around your finger a couple of times, pinch it with your thumb and pull the end through.’

He does so with aplomb, and you remark, more to yourself than anything. ‘Your fingers are really dexterous for their size.’

Joel wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘You should know that first hand, hmm?’

A comment like that would’ve had you ducking your head a few months ago. But now, you narrow your eyes at him in playful admonishment. ‘So full of yourself, Joel Miller.’

Dragging your chair towards him, he leans in and murmurs against your ear. ‘Ain’t you the one who was full of me last night -’

Heat rushes to your cheek as he noses the sensitive skin behind your ear. ‘Joel, I thought you wanted to fix your shirt -’

Pushing the needle into a pin cushion, he shrugs and pulls you into his lap with a smirk, his skin hot under your touch.

‘Luckily, I don’t really need a shirt for what I want to do right now, sweetheart.’

More notes: Thank you for this adorable prompt @toomanytookas! I hope you don't mind that I tweaked it a little bit. I love that you have such beautiful memories with your grandma. Mine used to sew and do cross-stitch, I miss her so much 🥹

#fuckyeahseams #seams sleepover #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine

475 notes · View notes

yawujin · 3 months ago

Note

sorry to bother you but just a thought

imagine England , France , America and Russia with a reader who likes to read and LOVES their countries literature and poetry, like, they often catch them on the floor kicking their feet reading their countries classics

maybe even askes them to read a copy in it's native language to her while their cuddling

(just imagine America reading 'the adventures of huckleberry finn' , England reading 'wuthering heights' , France reading some famous french love poems and Russia reading 'anna karenina' in it's native language while cuddling with reader) <3

my book worm heart NEEDS some fluff-

your writing is amazing btw, been here a long time and your posts a comfort, seriously keep your head up , your amazing and beautiful !

love you and your blog

it's not a bother at all!! i think it's a very cute, sweet idea. i used to read books in danish to my ex all the time and it was a lot of fun. he really loved it, as did i :p i really appreciate the encouragement 🤍 i'm really hoping that one day, far farrr in the future, the books i am planning on publishing will be considered "classics" i can't wait :) without further ado, here is your request anon. thank you! and enjoy 🪄✨️

{ request } england , france , america & russia x bookworm! reader

type | cute , fluff , light hearted , russia needs a nap , short read

england ♥︎

his favorite place is home , so he really does not mind at all that they would prefer to just stay in to enjoy each other's company

england could read his novels for hours at a time, focused with no background noise save for the tick-tock sound of the clock. that sound gradually fades as he begins to read aloud.

the two quickly become invested in the story─doesn't matter if it's pride and prejudice by jane austen or one of the very many stories of sherlock holmes by sir arthur conan doyle

england has a really clear, crisp, and modulated voice that would be great for narration tbh.....*clears throat* audiobook is hiring

france ♥︎

france has a sense for beautiful things and there is nothing more beautiful than hearing them read the stranger by albert camus back to him. he really just likes seeing them enjoy books written by people from his country

he once purchased a really pretty bookmark for them, just because he thought perhaps they would like it ? <3

most likely to join a bookclub with them

ask him to read love poems and he will─one after another, until they're content

america ♥︎

might want them to just lay down next to him (or on his lap) (OR vice versa) while he reads.

he is more than happy to carry their books for them when they go to the library/bookstore together

if he finds them reading any classic american literature, he'll get really happy and start asking them: "did you get to the good part yet?" "how're you liking it?" "do you have a favorite character?" he just wants to know all the details

the type to watch the movie adaptation of a book with them so they can compare, just for fun

russia ♥︎

he'll read whatever they ask him to read. after doing it for a prolonged period of time, he'll begin to feel sleepy and rest. i imagine him being the type to feel punchy after reading all those small words on a page

would most likely gift them his copy of the idiot by fyodor dostoevsky

he likes to listen to them go on little rants about any one of the books they had started recently, all while reading the summaries on the back of the books

his favorite thing is when they start to play with his hair as he reads to them....no wonder he feels so sleepy afterwards (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

90 notes · View notes

hwanchaesong · 9 months ago

Text

━⁠☞🍽️ Seventh Course: Picture perfect revenge, the definition of the burnt dessert that is brewing inside your unhinged mind. Well, he deserves it though. 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Jealousy, Jealousy

wc: 816

genre & warnings: angst, non-idol au, cheating, hints of insecurity, reader drinking wine, cursing, lovers to exes, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You scroll through your phone, sipping on your red wine and laughing to yourself. Giggling like a maniac because the ridiculousness of the situation is truly astounding.

It was a magnificent occasion, one that would normally make people cry but not you.

No, you are built differently.

The discovery that you dug made you so happy you think you're about to burst in excitement.

Because finally, fucking finally! Freedom is nigh and clean air will finally clear your black lungs.

You gaze at the clock, the man that you are waiting for will be home soon, and you are so fucking ready for a confrontation.

Soon enough, your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, jumping a little when he sees your figure in the shadows, indifferently sitting there with a menacing expression.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" he frowned when you replied with a scoff, slowly walking in your direction.

The entire living room is dark, the only source of light is the one from the hallway near your bedroom. It gives an ominous vibe in the atmosphere, exactly what you want to exude.

"Y/N, seriously, I don't have time for this. I j-"

You rolled your eyes at his audacity, shoving your phone in his face so he can gawk at the evidence of his betrayal.

He is nothing but a mere asshole in the entirety of this relationship, so thank the heavens for giving you a reason to leave.

Ever since he entered your life, his presence always gave you the sinking feeling of insecurity.

Paranoia at its finest, you could say.

It was all good at first. You can even say with confidence that he was the perfect boyfriend. He makes you feel like you're on top of the world, the only girl that he loves, the happiest person on earth.

But who knows what will happen, right?

His sublime image is merely a performance for you to enjoy and hate later on, especially when you start seeing the signs.

Going home to you smelling like a girl's perfume. Lipstick stain on the collar of his polo shirt. Being secretive on whatever is in his phone.

"Must be your imagination, baby."

"Oh this? This is nothing. I'll wash it later."

"Listen, privacy is also an important aspect of a relationship."

Fuck that privacy. You merely wanted to play games on his phone because waiting in line in his favorite restaurant bore you to death. Must he be so stingy?

Stingy because the shit excuse of a man was hiding something.

You have been tolerating his bland show for a while now, might as well give him a tip for giving you entertainment despite it not being worth your time.

"Tell me I'm crazy now." you smirk, victorious in the battle where you have been wounded far too many times to the point that you can't even bear to look in the mirror without wanting to vomit.

You've had enough comparing yourself to the girls that he hangs out with.

Girls that are way skinnier, comfortable in showing too much skin, wear make up like it's an extension of their body.

Then you saw this very suspicious lady that seemed to be a bit closer to your boyfriend than the others.

You can't help but be jealous of her pretty face, lavish lifestyle, and it seems like her friends love her so much.

But hey, you may be a tad bit insecure but you ain't a raging loser, you are ready to let your inner sherlock holmes out and prove a point.

"What was it again? You are not cheating and it's just all in my head?" here you are, showing him the proof of your hard work and catching him red handed.

Did he really think that you won't see him and that girl making-out in a photo that was posted by his friend a week ago.

No matter how pixelated it was or even if your eyesight is bad, you will definitely see it.

"Y/N, that is not what you think." he tried to explain, and you do not understand the reason for his panic as you confidently push him out of the flat.

"Wooyoung, I've seen, heard and smelled enough. I think it's time for you to shut the fuck up." you give him a fake smile, finally giving him a harsh strike on his chest that got him stumbling in the front of the apartment.

"Please, hear me out." he begs but no, your heart is not made out of cotton to listen to him.

Whatever befalls him, he deserves it.

"Go spend the night with your bitch and come back here tomorrow to gather your belongings while I'm at work. Goodbye."

You shut the door in his face, not paying attention to his knocks and pleas.

Finally, some peace and quiet in your mind, heart and soul.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @xdannix @nsixns @heartssol @vixensss @shakalakaboomboo

150 notes · View notes

holmesianlove · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 29 - Music

John woke, alone, in Sherlock’s bed, momentarily confused by the situation and then the memory of last night came back in a flurry. They had kissed, and then kissed some more and… well, one thing had led to some more very nice things and Sherlock had demanded John stay close. And John had no problem obliging, now that he knew he wasn’t imagining things. Now that he knew Sherlock felt the same.

He could hear Sherlock playing his violin out in the lounge. Music filled the apartment. It sounded much happier than his usual mournful music. Hopefully, it was good thinking music, and not regret-filled music. Or “I wish John would go back to his own bed” music.

John got up and pulled his T-shirt on with his boxers, wandering down the hall to find out. Sherlock turned and smiled, a beautiful, content smile at John and stopped playing. John sighed with relief and moved closer to place a kiss to those lips again and Sherlock was very happy to receive it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be heading to the train?” John asked.

“I cancelled.”

“Oh, Sherlock. No—“

“It’s fine John, it’s already done,” Sherlock said, with a little wave of his hand.

“But you should—“

“It’s done,” Sherlock said firmly.

“I’ve come along before. And they did invite me. Did you want me to—“

Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head. “Mycroft would know the second he saw us and there is no way I’m giving him a shot at spoiling this in the first twenty-four hours,” he sighed.

John had to admit he agreed with the assessment, although he felt terrible that Sherlock now wouldn’t go and see his family at Christmas, as originally planned. He opened his mouth to argue.

“Nope. You’re stuck with me today, I’m afraid,” Sherlock said, with a twinkle in his eye. He put his violin down and pulled John in closer.

John smiled back at him. “Oh dear whatever shall we do?” he asked, suggestively.

Sherlock couldn’t help chuckling, deep in his chest. “I can think of a few things.”

God, that sound was incredible.

“If any of them involve dead bodies, I’m going to your parents’ house without you,” John scoffed.

“Not a chance,” Sherlock said, pulling John close to kiss him.

The very best surprise of this whole thing, had been that, aside from having an incredible chemistry with each other, and experiencing the excitement of realising they felt the same way about each other, the reality was that Sherlock was still very much Sherlock. And John could just be John. It was like this physical addition to their relationship was simply an extension of what they had already built together. Sherlock Holmes kissed like a bloody expert, and John had the confidence and swagger required to lead someone as head strong as Sherlock, who simultaneously lacked some experience, sexually. But all in all, when they were together, it was as if they had been a couple all along and this was just simply an extension of things. John could finally understand what everyone had seen between them, because it was absolutely there, and had always been there. They had just finally lifted a curtain that had hidden some information. Sherlock and John were still very much Sherlock and John, just a little friskier. And that, was a huge relief to John.

“I’m going to make some tea,” he sighed happily, reluctantly removing himself from Sherlock’s arms to walk to the kitchen.

“Yoo-hoo!”

“Hudders!” Sherlock cried out, enthusiastically.

“I thought I’d just invite you both down for a spot of Christmas lunch this afternoon. I know we’d spoken about it briefly, John, but I thought I’d formally invite you. We can celebrate the good news,” she said.

“Good news?” John asked, walking out of the kitchen to see her.

“You two finally getting yourselves sorted,” she said with a wink.

“Mrs Hudson how…?” John asked.

“How soundproof do you think these apartments are, dear?” she simply stated, with a look that made John blush profusely. “No need to be embarrassed. I’ve lived. It doesn't bother me. I’m just pleased. And if I know this one he will want to avoid the family and hole up here with you alone now,” she said, of Sherlock. “But you’ll need your sustenance too, and I have a roast beef that is too big for me.”

John closed his eyes, trying to adjust to the idea of Mrs Hudson listening in. “Well... thank you,” he managed to say.

“One P.M., don’t be late,” she said, and already started walking out of the apartment.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sherlock said, from the side of the room.

“Well that was embarrassing,” John said, planted to the spot with humiliation.

Sherlock smiled and moved over to him to kiss him again, to reassure him. “I think it’s perfect. Everything feels just right.”

John looked up at his detective and smiled back. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Sherlock agreed.

“Right then. Tea?” John asked brightly.

“Please,” Sherlock replied, giving him one more kiss before he let go.

“Done. Now go back to your music. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I hope it was happy thoughts inspiring your playing?” he asked a little nervously.

“The very best, John,” he simply said. He returned to his violin and this time he played the Bach that John liked while their tea was being made.

As John stood in the kitchen he smiled to himself, remembering last night. He felt sure that this thing with Sherlock was all he needed. All he wanted. But he had felt that way once before and been very wrong and suddenly his stomach started to churn. What if they did this thing and it went sour? What if they weren’t actually suited to one another and then he would have spectacularly miscalculated and not only lost a partner but lost his best friend and a roof over his head. Was he being reckless by jumping into this with Sherlock?

The thoughts plagued him as he brought the tea out and settled onto the sofa. Sherlock put down his violin and came to sit beside John. They drank their tea in silence for a while, John thinking he was doing an excellent job of hiding his thoughts by staying silent.

“I’m not him,” Sherlock finally said. “I’m not going to—“

“It’s ok.” John cut him off uncomfortably.

Sherlock grabbed John’s tea from his hand and put both cups on the coffee table. “No, John, listen,” he said firmly. "You really are terrible at just listening." He turned to face John, popping a leg up onto the sofa to face John properly and grab John’s hands in his. “When I said all the things I said about love in the past, it was because a great many people proved to me what a weakness it can be. Just as they have done to you. But then I met you.” He smiled. “And for a while there, I hated love, but only because I knew I loved you and you weren’t going to return it. Or so I thought. It was a protective layer I placed upon myself. Just like when you announced repeatedly that you were not gay. Protection, John. And I don’t need to know… as a matter of fact I don’t want to know what Alex did or didn’t do. It’s irrelevant to me. But I can promise you, whatever he did that made you think people would just hurt you… I promise you I won’t be that. I’m not him, John. I am going to make a great many mistakes because I’m me, but you’ve seen me at my worst already. So you know that. But I won’t be him. And we can just be... us. And you can stop hiding and second guessing and running. I’m right here as I’ve always been for as long as you’ve known me. And I won’t be going anywhere.”

John sighed and pulled Sherlock in for the most tender of kisses.

“Now come back to bed. I wasn't actually done with you yet,” Sherlock said and they both laughed at him being flirtatious.

“The tea…”

“Really John?” Sherlock asked.

“No, you’re right. You’re right. The tea can wait. I’m all yours,” John said.

“Yes, yes you are,” Sherlock sighed, the sound full of contentment, and he took John’s hand to lead him back to the bedroom.

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun

@sillygirlsmindpalace @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn

@therealalexisamess-blog @e-b1838 @rhasima @salmonsown @tropelovingpainter

@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @melodious-me @sherlocke3d

@otter-von-bismarck @silvergoldsea @calaisreno

#sherlockbbc #bbc sherlock #sherlock fandom #johnlock #fanfic #angsty #ao3 fanfic #sherlock holmes #john watson #holidaze2024 #December Prompts

84 notes · View notes

yup-thats-me · 7 months ago

Text

—memories• William J. Moriarty

paring: William x wife!reader summary: Hair holds memories. Something that William had said in the past. did it mean anything to his darling wife? yes. more than he could imagine. warning: hurt/comfort, manga spoiler, angsty, rapunzle-hair, like lots and lots of hair. a/n: this came to mind while doing my haircare. Enjoy.

The first thing William had looked for immediately after entering the mansion and sharing brief greetings with his dear brothers and comrades was to ask them about his wife. During his time in New York with his now close friends Billy and Sherlock Holmes for the better half of three years, he had never forgotten the treasure he left behind in London; the treasure he was forced to part from—his darling wife, Y/n; she had stayed by his side when the world had mistaken him, misunderstood all the crimes he patriotically committed; measures needed for the greater good.

Not once could he stop his tears nor the hurt that crushed his entire being when he thought how miserable Y/n was. After all, everyone believed Lord of Crime, William James Moriarty was dead.

He did not expect to see the heads of all the people in the hall droop. Some of them had sighed, and some of them could not meet his eyes.

“Where is my wife?” he had asked again, growing impatient. He had frankly believed that Y/n would have moved on by now and perhaps jumped in his embrace the moment he revealed himself to the MI6. He was more worried than disappointed.

It was Louis who spoke up. “She’s in her—your room…” but he did not finish the sentence.

And William did not need him to. Without wasting another second, he rushed up the stairs through the all familiar halls; his feet did not stop, not until he was standing outside of their room; and the scene before him broke his heart to a million pieces.

The moonlight dimly illuminated the room, as if adding life to the atmosphere. There were no sound save one—the soft humming coming from the open balcony.

William had carefully treaded his way to where Y/n was sitting with her back towards the door.. However, his feet stepped on something dark, long. Hair.

Was this Y/n’s hair? How did this get so long? Was this some kind of rope? Why would she grow out her hair? Unless…

“I like your hair, my love,” a youthful and lively Moriarty declared as he played with his wife’s lose hair. The woman blushed, hiding her face with the book she was reading.

“…then should I grow out my hair?”

The man shook his head, a loving smile on his lips. “Whatever you wish, darling,” he had pecked her lips. “Speaking of hair, I read somewhere,”

“Hair holds memories.”

The present-day Y/n asked her hair as she combed it without a care in the world. “Do you think he had a rebirth? No. Maybe he went to heaven…if it exists. He was a good man…”

William’s heart ached. Ached he could do nothing to make up for the pain he inflicted on her. Ached for he had no words to apologize with, nor the face. All he could do was call out to her, in a soft, trembling voice.

“Y/n, darling…”

Y/n had stopped her humming and looked out at the night sky before her. “William?”

She thought she had finally lost her mind. How could you hear voices of dead people? That was nothing but her imagination. Imagination where William lived…and was before her.

“Darling,” William called out again, now walking towards the woman.

Y/n stood up, frantically looking all around her to search for the source of the voice, when her eyes finally landed on him. There he was, standing with his arms wide open for her; like he always had.

She cautiously walked towards him, as if still making sure she was not daydreaming again. “Are you really here?” She had asked while she gently caressed his face.

Without a word, William had embraced her and held her close. So close but still not enough. It was not enough for the two. They needed more than touch, more than words. They needed more.

Eventually, the two could not hold back anymore and cried. Cried for the hurt they felt, the hardships they went through, and the pain they suffered; but also for the immense joy they felt. Especially Y/n. How many people in this world could say they met the person they had lost to time? It was no less than a miracle. And this time she would not let go, even if the gods came asking for him.

But all of that could wait. William gently held her meter-long hair and asked, “…why?”

She had kept quiet for sometime when she at last said “…hair holds memories.”

The tears did not stop, rather they increased but William still had that gentle smile on his lips. He hugged her yet again. Slowly, he grabbed the small knife he always hid in his socks and began to cut the thick hair gently, while whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

“Now I’m here. We will make more.”

Memories.

do not steal, copy or translate my work to any other site. All belongs to yup-thats-me™ on tumblr

114 notes · View notes

theweepingangelofcas · 3 months ago

Note

Pip pip from your friendly neighbourhood lurker, I saw your requests are open and so I shall request my fluffy little idea to you dear writer and I hope you find just as funny and sweet as I did.

So for my request for the mtp bois basically on TikTok I saw a vid where a gf found her bf sleeping on the soft and decided to prank him by setting up a fake game of uno (but you can choose a different board game/card game if you want) once set up she starts shaking him awake and telling him its his turn obviously confused and half asleep but still takes his turn.

I don’t have any pacifically for this request so I’m leaving up to you to choose who would be best for this scenario.

From yours truly,

Your friendly neighbourhood lurker

Hello, Friendly Neighborhood Lurker! For your ask, I decided on a few things on my own. Sadly, I don't believe uno existed during the Victorian era, so I opted for chess instead (a game I am absolute trash at, but shall write about it nonetheless). I also decided that William and Sherlock would be the most likely to fall asleep on the sofa during a busy day, so they will be our victims lol

***********************

My Turn? - Moriarty Boys x Reader

William Moriarty

Your poor William had been working himself to death lately.

Between the long days of teaching, long evenings of grading papers, and long nights of committing acts of violence, it was a miracle he ever got any sleep.

So when he finally fell into a deep slumber on the sofa one lazy morning, you knew now was the perfect time to spring your trap.

William awoke to the realization of a few things. 1. There was fresh tea brewing beside him. Earl grey, as far as he could tell. 2. You were sitting beside him. The floral notes of your favorite perfume was unmistakeable. 3. You were calling to him. Gently, lovingly. It brought him out of his slumber in the most lovely way he could imagine. His eyes opened sluggishly, turning his head to look over at you. "Yes, y/n? What is it?" He yawned, trying to focus on your words. You giggled, "It's your turn, William." He realized what you were talking about. There was a chessboard in front of you, set up next to said previously mentioned tea. The table between you two held snacks as well, set up like one of your usual game nights. He observed the board, before chuckling himself, "I can assure you, my dear, I am not the one who placed these pieces. But, to humor you..." He picked up a pawn, using it to behead one of your knights. Another laugh, "Why do you say that, Will? We were playing, and you must've been so tired you dozed off-" "This board is set up to a Stafford's gambit. Though I am no great chess player, even I know that this is a poor choice of plays." You finally released your laughter, trying to scoff it down to no avail, "And here I was, dear, hoping I had finally tricked you." Finally, he sat up. leaning across the table to give you a peck on the cheek. "Mm. Maybe one day, my sweet girl. Maybe one day."

Sherlock Holmes

This man is the most manic creature ever created by fiction, do you think he sleeps on a regular basis?

He's too smart to fall for your tricks after just one nap, which is why you waited for a much different occurance to happen...

You waited til he was coming back from a case.

"Dove?!" He was elated. His latest case had truly been genius. A devious crime scene, a truly mad perpetrator, everything he could have wanted! Even a headless nun! He simply had to tell you, his beloved partner of 2 years, all about it! "I'm over here where you left me, Lock!" He ran to you, bounding over heaps of books that he had looked through earlier, before joining you on the ragged sofa. In front of you was a chessboard, still in the early few plays. "Did John play a few games with you? Goodness knows that man is rubbish at chess. He should stick to being a doctor." You laughed, placing your hand on his knee, "No, dear, remember? We were just starting our game when Lestrade barged in and asked for your help." His face fell, trying to recall the events earlier that day. Truly, he couldn't recall too much besides following Lestrade out the door. A guilty look marred his face, "Dove, I am so sorry. I don't even remember. The case, it took up so much of my mind..." He looked over to you. Normally, he would have expected you to look sad. Disappointed, maybe. Instead, you had a smile. He took an extra second to observe the layout in front of him. Those were not any type of moves he would have played. He pinched your arm, and you squealed, "Liar. Good one, though. You almost got me." A kiss on your cheek, and he picked up one of your bishops off of the board. "Now, let me tell you about the headless nun."

127 notes · View notes

thesummerpetrichor · 1 year ago

Text

𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓮𝓷: 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝔂𝓲𝓷’ 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷’

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: If he thought giving into his urges and fucking you at his embassy’s end of year dinner would lend him any relief from your antics, Agent Peña was wildly mistaken. Day two of your weekend getaway brings you the realisation that you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, reader is the ambassadors daughter, thicc age gap [reader is in her early 20s Javi is in his 40s], petnames, cigarette smoking, alcohol consumption, minor drug use, sex under the influence [minor dubcon], daddy issues ™, mommy issues ™, mean!brat tamer!dom!Javi, brat!reader, daddy kink, size kink [javi is describe to be bigger than the reader], degradation, playing footsie, use of clothes as restraints, semi public sex, fucking in the hot tub, thigh riding, one spank, a few slaps [I had to], phone sex, cream pie, unprotected P in V [don’t do it!!]. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶

Word count: 10.4k

A/N: Part two of the three part getaway series. A long time coming so I hope you enjoy. Things are messier and nastier and only get worse from here. 🫶🐝💗

🍓Part One 🍓Masterlist

Carmen, Carmen

Staying up 'til morning

You twirled the phone cord between your fingers.

After getting back to your room the previous night you cleaned up and slipped into bed– exhausted and content. The smell of Javier's clary sage and cedarwood perfume insisted on clinging to your skin, despite the fact that you’d showered, and lulled you into a heavy slumber– the cold sheets swallowing you and sending you to dream land.

The night went mostly peacefully, considering your mind endlessly conjured up images of Agent Peña trying to explain why he missed nearly half of his embassy’s dinner party when all he was required to do was escort you outside for some fresh air.

As you lay in bed he was likely in front of your father, lying through his teeth about the fact that you weren’t feeling too well, that you had a headache and decided to retire to your room. Pretending like he hadn’t been fingering you under the dinner table, like you didn’t clean his cum off your dress and face minutes ago. The thought made your head spin, and in the best way. The infamous Javier Peña, the man who didn’t let anyone or anything control him– unable to control himself.

You fell asleep that night feeling like a winner, undefeated, but that was only until you could once again feel the ghost of his touch on your inner thigh, the prickle of his stubble on your cheek, and the brush of his lips against your jaw. The man was haunting you.

The ac was on full blast, but the room felt hot and muggy. Somewhere along the line you’d tossed your sheets off your body, still asleep but not oblivious to the tension building in your core.

Images of Agent Peña projected in your closed eyes like a stuttery film reel. In your sleep these images were brief, but vivid, and distinct, and some of them unreal and dream-like. Your imagination took flight, and it wasn’t long before you could almost feel him against you, and his hands were roaming your body, and he was grabbing your hips, and he leaned down and kissed you roughly. You felt his breath on your neck, and his hand slipped between your aching thighs, and –

You woke up in a cold sweat, and you were sure you could feel your heartbeat caught in your throat. The room around you felt small, and your chest rose and fell uncomfortably as you hit the bed, with uninterrupted force, once again. Shifting about uneasily you could only hope your little indulgent wet dream was an outlier.

You glanced at the clock beside you.

6:00 AM

And that’s how you ended up where you were– scrambling for the phone on the bedside table and impulsively trying to Sherlock Holmes your way into getting Javier’s room number.

When you first heard his name being called across the reception the previous day you remembered seeing someone toss him the keys to his room. He carried them with him everywhere. Even when he sneaked up beside you back at the restaurant.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing your brain to reconstruct the image of his keychain dangling from his fingertips, trying to form out the room numbers carved into the wood from the blur. You sat there for a good forty seconds, praying for a bible level miracle until from the fuzzy memory you made out the numbers.

736

Sure, your plan was far from foolproof, but worst case scenario you’d wake up Noonan or something. There wasn't much to lose. So you twirled the cord between your fingers and listened to the ring of the call.

The receiver clicked as it was picked up from the other end, a gruff half sleepy voice coming through the static.

“Buenos días?” you rolled your eyes, even on vacation the man couldn't help but answer so formally. He sounded half dead as is.

“Relax Agent Peña, you're on vacation.”

“Jesus Christ-” He breathed in an exasperated sigh, in that half questioning half irate tone. “You sound a little tired. I hope I'm not disturbing you, Agent.” Despite being playful your voice was hushed and thick with sleep. So was his.

“No no , not at all-” he sighed heavily, tone monotonous, and you heard him fiddle with the phone cord. “I was just running laps around my room.” You rolled your eyes.

“What's got you up so early babydoll?” The fact that he didn't know immediately why you’d called him at the crack of dawn was beyond you. Did he think you wanted to have a little chit chat? You decided not to mention it.

“Dreamt ‘about you.” letting out a heavy breath, you sank back against your pillows, letting the sheets swallow you. “‘S that so?” Your words seemed to peak his interest, and despite only having known him a couple of hours you’d figured out there was nothing more effective at accomplishing that task than stroking his ego.

“Couldn't sleep.” He couldn’t see it, but you pouted nonetheless.

“Oh yeah? And ya had to wake me up early in the damn morning?” He wasn’t as annoyed as he was a moment ago. His voice was lower, deeper, softer. Something told you he didn't mind.

“Need you.”

He chuckled lowly. “Already, babydoll? Barely been ten hours.” The smugness seeped through the phone, you could practically see his cocky smile. If you weren't as desperate as you were you wouldn’t have let it pass.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin ‘bout you.” It was difficult not to give in quick and easy. You wanted to make him work for it, but that plan only lasted till you heard that voice of his drip like honey through the phone.

“Thinkin’ bout what?” You heard his sheets shuffle delicately as he presumably propped himself up. That demanding voice had you clenching your thighs together as the ache built. So you relented, telling him what he wanted to hear. It was true either way. “Your cock. How you made me cum.”

“Yeah?” It wasn’t a question. “Thinking about how daddy stretched you open?” The ‘yes’ that escaped your lips was broken, mostly thanks to what he called himself.

“Insatiable aren't ya babydoll?” His subtle accent seemed a lot more pronounced so early in the morning. Not quite a southern drawl, but flaunting the Texas charm nonetheless. You hummed and fiddled with the hem of your sleepshirt in an attempt to occupy your hands.

“Yeah, and now you’re all wet ‘n achy?” It was more a statement than a question, one dripping with faux sympathy. You whined another quiet yes, running your cool palms across your inner thighs. It was difficult to relent to his mocking, but you were dripping for him, and you needed the release.

“Poor little thing…you touch that pretty pussy thinkin’ of how I made y’a come on my cock?”

“Nuh uh. Didn’t touch.” You said proudly. And you were proud– of your self restraint, not quite proud of how desperate you sounded. He hummed and sounded equally proud. Maybe even a little impressed. He sucked in a breath, and you heard his sheets crinkle again.

“my cute lil pussy’s drippin all over those panties?” he didn't let you respond. “Or should I ask if my little slut’s even wearing any?” My little slut. He was right. He practically owned your body. You couldn’t even sleep without thinking of him.

As for your panties, you were, but you wished you werent. You were sure the fabric was soaked, you felt it cling to your core. You wiggled your hips in frustration, desperate for any amount of friction to ease the ache between your thighs.

He hushed your whines again, the moan slipping past your lips as you squeezed your breast making you sound increasingly incoherent.

“Not a thought in that head’ve yours huh? can’t even get the words out?” Your hand danced up to run along your upper body, fingers teasing over the swell of your breasts as you sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn’t wrong.

“S’okay babydoll, you can touch.” you heard him swallow thickly, enough to convey that he might have been just as desperate as you. He heard your huffs through the phone, and in his condescending way shushed you gently. “Tell me how wet ya’ are f’ me baby, feel how wet y’are f’daddy”

He didn't need to ask twice. With your lust blown gaze tilted downwards your fingers danced across the skin of your inner thighs. They brushed the hem of your panties as you dipped your hand between your legs, teasing yourself with feather light touches.

An obscene moan bubbled in your throat as you ran a finger over your throbbing slit. Your panties were soaked, barely a barrier between your fingers and your aching pussy.

“Hmm so wet daddy, ruined em.” it took every fiber in your being to resist the urge to pull them aside, your voice higher than it usually was.

“I know babydoll, I know.” his faux sympathy had your breath hitching. “Imagine how wet you were for me last night.” The thought made you shudder. If you thought you were on edge you couldn’t imagine just how hot you were when he was around. Reminders of the night before sparked in your head.

You rubbed yourself over your thin cotton panties. “Feel how wet you were ‘round my cock?”

“Jus’ for you..” He hummed in satisfaction, and you once again heard his sheets shuffling. “That's right baby, just for daddy.” He hummed. “Thinkin’ bout that cute lil face of yours, fuck. Those pretty eyes lookin’ up at me.”

You recalled him above you the previous night as you kneeled in front of him, your lips wrapped around his thick cock as you gazed up at him.

“Daddy need your cock..” your thighs closed around your hand, your digits drenched in your slick. You heard him curse under is breath, the unmistakable sound of his hand on his cock filling your ears.

“Ohh- fuck, rub that pretty lil clit for me babydoll” You pulled your panties aside, finally letting your fingers meet your weeping core. You started slow, following the low hum of his voice as it emanated through the phone speaker.

“Feel good?’ Closing your eyes you nodded– imagined him laying on his bed, on his back, eyes screwed shut as he tried his best to decipher your breathy sighs through the phone. You hated giving into him, confessing how much you ached and longed for him, but you just couldn’t help yourself– especially when he rewarded you. You shuddered as you teased your clit.

The image had you lost in your own head for a few seconds.

“Use your words, slut” he sternly reprimanded. The world felt like it was spinning, and you only got more light headed when you let him take control. “not as good as yours.” The cotton of your panties clung messily to your wet cunt as you pulled them off, sliding them down your legs and off your ankles.

“Fuck babydoll” He sighed in aproval, “can see ya already, hand between those pretty thighs.” The fact that he could imagine you with your hand between your legs in nothing but your sleepshirt, as you thought of all the things you wanted him to do to you drove you wild.

There was nothing more exhilarating than being the subject of his dirty fantasy.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers” You pushed a finger in your dripping hole, sighing and letting your head rest back against your pillows. They didn’t feel like his, not quite hitting the spots he did the previous night, not stretching you open. Desperately needing to feel full you were quick to slide another finger in your aching cunt.

As if he could read your mind he was quick to interrupt you. “Just one” his voice was strained but just as commanding and stern as before. “Don't be a greedy slut, now” Whining, you wanted to protest, but something about his tone forced you into submission.

He hummed at your obedience, indulging you a little .“Feel how tight you were around me?”

“Fuck, bet those lil fingers dont feel as good as daddys do they? I know babydoll, wish I could take care of that pretty pussy..” he bit back a breathy moan “Yeah, they look better wrapped ‘round daddy's cock huh?” In no time your soft fingers moved back to circling your clit, and you felt that tight knot build in your core.

“Yes daddy, ahh, please.” You heard his breath quicken, you could almost feel it tickle the nape of your neck. You did miss him, you missed the way he engulfed you in his big arms, how he liked to rag doll you around, and force the brat out of you.

“Give yourself another baby..”

Your hips hurt, you felt like jello, hot to the touch. Your mind wandered further as you fucked yourself with your fingers– what it would feel like to have your legs on either side of his thighs, his hands grabbing and kneading the flesh of your hips like he had the previous night.

You didn't even realize how loud you were being, a string of incoherent noises slipping past your lips as the tension built in your belly. You wouldn’t have realized if Javier hadn’t angrily bit through the phone. “Shut that whore mouth of yours. Wouldn't want your pops hearing you moan like a lil slut.”

It only made you ache more. “Should’ve bent ya over my knee at that table, showed him what a dirty little girl ya’are.” your skin going hot and cunt throbbing around your fingers at his obscene words.

“Could teach him a thing or two about instilling good manners huh?” Javier could teach him a thing or two about quite a lot to be honest, and the thought made you crave him even more than you already did. The line crackled gently as he panted, and you imagined him thrusting into his fist as he thought of you.

“Maybe ya’ wouldn’t have turned out such a fuckin’ brat.” your movements sped up. “dirty lil girl, gettin fucked by a guy twice her age.”

“Can fuckin hear it.” his breath quickened. “Dirty little thing, ya’ liked that didn’t ya’? Can fuckin hear how bad ya’ need it.” He growled, and once again you could make out the sound of his hand over his cock just barely over the static.

“Don’t worry babydoll, gonna take care of that tight lil cunt.” You felt a bead of sweat drip down the side of your forehead.

“daddy ahh-” how words caught up with you, had your jaw dropping open. He knew what he was doing, and he made sure to let you know he did. “Dirty lil thing. Close huh baby?”

You could only moan and whine, unable to form a coherent sentence that conveyed just how badly you needed to cum. You were so close, far too close to hold back any longer. That of course, didn’t sit well with Javier.

“If ya tryin’ to convince me, it aint workin. Use your damn words whore.”

Your movements were quick and sloppy, eyes fluttering shut and head tilting side to side as you neared your release. “Daddy want it” You bit the words out, hips wiggling atop your sheets as they attempted to meet your hand.

“Look at that, ya missed the magic word baby.” he chuckled darkly. “Know you want it babydoll, but it don't matter, you take what I give ya’, don’t you?”

You whined, and kicked your legs delicately, frustrated at how unyielding he was. You could barely form the words.

“Please daddy, wanna cum, please, need it so bad.” you paused momentarily, voice small and desperate and breathy, “please lemme cum daddy..” Good manners always seemed to work with Javier

“That's it. Good little slut.” he hissed, rather urgently as he tried to suppress a groan. “Ohh Fuck. cum for me, cum for daddy.” He sounded as close as you did.

The line went silent, and you imagined Javier on the other side trying desperately to hear your whines. His drawn out groan was the last straw, accompanied by the mental image of him spilling all over his fist– the one you had playing in your mind as a loop.

“Daddy, gon- gonna cum- ah-” Your back arched off the mattress, eyes squeezing shut and jaw going slack. Your walls squeezed and throbbed around your fingers as you came in a wordless cry.

“Ohh fuck babydoll.” His voice just barely got picked up by the receiver. You lost track of the obscenities that left his mouth as he neared his release, a stray “babydoll” lost in the mix of snarls and grunts. You would have given anything to see him as he was– on his back, his thick cock in hand, eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed. You would have given anything to have your lips wrapped around him again. You felt your pussy clench and pulse around your digits.

There was a distinct lack of air in your lungs, and you struggled to catch your breath as you lay back against the sheets. You bit your lip as you heard him catch his breath. You’d just gotten off, but if you could you knew you’d be right at his door if he asked you in a moment's notice.

His voice cut through your thoughts. “Thanks for the wake up call.” you imagined how he was likely running a hand through that soft brown hair of his, you could make out the action from his strained voice.

“You're welcome” there was a short pause. Your brain buzzed, working overtime. Now far less anguished than you were before your snappy mouth was back at it. “And daddy?” you hovered your finger over the disconnect button, unwilling to let him have just a moment's peace.

“Babydoll?” his ears perked up everytime that word slipped past your lips. Your very own Pavlov’s bell. You imagined his raised brows, big brown eyes hopeful, and probably far less droopy then when he first picked up the phone.

“Don't be late, wouldn’t want the ambassador to get worried.” you pressed the button, the beep that followed returning you to your deafening and lonely silence.

—

Only seventeen,

but she walks the streets so mean

It was extremely odd to see the embassy employees all in beach shorts, flip flops, and Hawaiian shirts. It was jarring. Like when you saw your teachers out of school. People funneled in one by one for breakfast. Since their bosses couldn’t seem to leave them alone for more than a couple of hours at a time, they managed to make an event out of it.

You walked in beside your father, who had his phone plastered to his ear, and had decided his life’s mission was to keep his line busy as to avoid your mother’s incessant calling. Still blissed out from the morning, and in a considerably better mood than the night before, you decided to ignore the drama intermittently.

From the entrance of the restaurant you spotted Javier in the large open space facing the beach, in a white shirt, and black shorts. The shirt managed to be simultaneously too tight on his bulging arms, and slightly loose around his torso. It looked criminally soft, and was unbuttoned just enough to expose his tan chest, and give off the impression that he’d just rolled out of bed. Boy did you know that wasn’t true. He was sharing a cigarette with Colleen again, and was anxiously fiddling with the sunglasses atop his head between drags.

His eyes caught you as you moseyed your way to your table. Commendably, he tried not to be as obvious undressing you with his eyes this time, probably because you were standing right next to your father, who was himself, trying to suppress the glare he was tempted to shoot the agent. The man was in a bad mood and it wasn’t even nine yet.

The table was narrow, but might have been the longest one you’d ever seen in real life. It was a nightmare, trapping you between whoever you had the misfortune of being seated beside. You wished it was a buffet, at least it would give you an excuse to escape to grab refills.

You took your seat, sandwiched between your father and Maria. Only one side of your arrangement was agreeable. You felt a tad bit better when Agent Peña eased in right opposite you.

By the looks of it Javier was just as unenthused about the seating arrangements. In reality he had it a lot worse than you did– Owen to his left Stechner to his right. He’d even been separated from poor Colleen who had the misfortune of being stuck next to chatty deputy Neil. The only two things that made a DEA agent bearable were their general charm and ability to make conversation. Deputy Neil had neither of those things.

After having skipped the previous night's meal thanks to Javier and having survived on the snacks stacked in your room, you were looking forward to breakfast. To Javier’s dismay however, no amount of hunger– of any kind and any severity was enough to quell your antics.

Owen pulled his chair out, patting Javier on the back as he took a seat. The latter practically recoiled from the touch, but smiled politely anyway. It was admirable– his ability to not let these freaks get to him. There was not one tolerable person in his periphery besides Steve Murphy, who had been working pretty much independently since he was appointed to attaché, and yet the man showed up everyday, slept with any willing woman, and lived his life. He didn't care for their validation, approval, or acceptance, and it was perhaps exactly that that made them hate him as much as they did.

You watched him interact with his colleagues, far more up close this time. The scowl he famously sported deep set on his face, arms leaned on the table and on either side of his cutlery. As always he was commanding, and resolute, delivering responses to pesky questions with far more patience and authority than you had expected. You clenched you thighs under the table.

Conversation moved on and it wasn’t long before he fixed his eyes on your platinum chainlet, on the blue diamond hanging from your neck. He seemed to like it. Or maybe he liked how your tits looked in that dress. You were almost completely sure it was the latter, Javier Peña was no gemologist.

“Buenos días, tío.” Maria leaned to your side obnoxiously to catch his prying eyes as she took her seat beside you at the table.

“Buenos días, ria.” Javier turned his head briefly and put on a tight smile. Idiot. There really was nothing in that head of his. If he thought he was doing a good job not arousing anyones suspicions he was sorely mistaken. The former pinched your leg under the table, and rolled her eyes at what she liked to call your “nauseating arrangement” with her godfather.

Breakfast started with fruit, and boy did it look heavenly– practically every color of the rainbow on your plate. You popped a strawberry in your mouth, only half paying attention to the tremendously boring conversation you were unfortunate enough to be stuck in the middle of.

You were certainly distracted, enough in fact to have only noticed minutes later that you were not the only one not paying attention. Agent Peña seemed to be rather preoccupied with your eating, enough so that he had to quite literally be shaken out of his daze to participate in the rest of the table's conversation.

You watched the way his eyes kept drifting back to the way your lips wrapped around the fruit, how you’d bite into it slowly, and dart your tongue over your lips. He was shameless and importantly he was just begging for a show.

And who were you to say no to the great, the ever important DEA attaché Javier Peña? You caught and then pretty much forced his eyes to yours from across the table. If the man wanted peace, he was not making it easy on himself. He was trying to be nonchalant about the whole situation, but he was admittedly shit at it.

Rubbing his temples with his index and thumb he tried desperately to hide his face as he watched you take a bite of the dragon fruit you had stabbed with your fork– eyes trained on the way the pink juice escaped your lips and dripped down your chin. You watched his gaze darken in warming, and it made your breath hitch to think about just how he wanted to set you straight.

You licked your lips, reaching for the white table napkin and watching it stain pink as you dabbed away. You watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously, and shot him the sweetest smile you could muster. You knew where his mind was, you knew he was thinking about the way you’d wrapped your lips around his cock the night before, around his fingers, and tasted him on your tongue. You were sure of it when he shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and politely asked your dad to repeat himself as he tried his best to engage in the conversation.

By the time the waitress came along offering water he was practically dying to get out of the table. For someone who had been so courageous the night before he was blushing like a schoolboy. Now that he was on the spot his pda policy was changing. You weren't even touching him yet.

The waitress leaned down beside you, and offered you regular and ice water. From the corner of your eye you watched Javier's face as you opted for the second option. Of course you asked for ice. What was he expecting? For you to give it up because he couldn't get his mind out of the gutter? In that weather? He was delusional.

You took a sip and held the cube between your teeth, he watched it start to melt as it brushed your warm lips. You sucked on the cube, lewdly eyeing him and leaning your hands against the table. Your tongue brushed your bottom lip.

“Agent Peña, you’ve met him before haven’t you?”

Javier cleared his throat, then forced his eyes away from your supple lips to answer your father’s tedious questions.

Poor man, he just couldn’t catch a break

But he wasn’t on a break, he was still technically at work, and who were you to deal with, compared to all those scary, dangerous, criminals he spent all day with. Surely, you weren’t affecting him all that much?

Your lip tugged into a gentle smile as you watched him clear his throat in a rather obvious indication for you to get a grip. But that was no fun now was it? You stretched your leg under the table, tapping Javier’s calf with the arch of your foot. It didn't take much effort, his long legs already far closer to yours than he would have preferred for this particular situation. It was all meant to be really, the table could have been any length, yet here it was, so awfully narrow that just a minor stretch of your leg would have your soft skin brushing against his.

He visibly flinched, and to anyone paying attention probably looked like a man possessed– responding to the apparent touches of a ghost that had snuck their way between his legs.

But to his dismay he wasn't dealing with a ghost. He was dealing with you, and you had decided you liked the way your leg felt slanted between his, the way his skin felt as you trailed your foot along it.

He was lucky no one ever paid attention.

You glanced at the ambassador, who was ever engrossed in his interrogation of Javier’s deputy. If he was smart he would have noticed Peña hadn’t taken one trip out of the resort– clearly getting his fill right where he was. If he was smart enough he would have noticed the fact that you were playing footsie with his attaché under the table.

Most of breakfast passed in slow, agonising torture. With your eyes trained on his as you teased him unrelentingly. Just like he had the night before he was pained by your actions, just itching to get out of his seat and smack some sense into you.

At one point you accidentally dropped your napkin under the table, and as you bent down to fetch it took the liberty to run your fingers against his calf when you dragged the napkin back up with you. When you looked at him once again he was a little short of red in the face.

If anything he should have been thanking you.

You knew better than anyone the world of elitist superficiality, pseudo intellectualistic hacks, and narcissistic bureaucrats, all trying to climb the ladder. Hell you lived with one 18 years of your life. Javier could do with a little distraction.

Your phone buzzed on the table beside your pink stained napkin.

It was, of course, your mother. And she was of course, demanding the details of your return home. Details that you didn’t have. Details that the ambassador had likely not even clarified yet. But then again your mother didn’t care about the details. She wanted something, and the rule was that she always got it. With no care of who got stuck in the crossfire.

The information was completely useless to her, but that wasn’t the point. She didn’t want it for practicality, she wanted it because she wanted control.

You wanted to ask why she didn't ask him herself, but you already knew the answer. Nothing was new, you were their messenger. It felt like a cruel trap to force you into keeping contact with either of them.

As much as you would have liked to continue bothering Javier with your under the table antics, you knew the task at hand was top priority, and that as much as you didn’t want to engage him, you were better off just clarifying the details with your father, and sending your mother along her merry way, knowing she had control over the both of you in some form or the other.

You watched your dad as he leaned towards his deputy, mentioning something about the budget.

“Dad-”

You opened your mouth once again, only to be interrupted and ignored.

“D-”

If there wasn’t a plate in front of you you’d have slammed your head right into the table.

It went on for a good thirty seconds, you trying to catch his attention in the midst of something that would be, to anyone else, rather unimportant. But work was important, more important than whatever you had to say. In a moment you felt like that five year old kid again, tugging at his sleeve and trying to drag him to that thing you wanted to show him.

It was humiliating, and pathetic, but it was more pathetic that you still cared, like some child. So you exhaled, struggling and rolling your eyes at Colleen as if to indicate you weren't as bothered by the situation as you were, who gave you a knowing sympathetic smile.

Generally, you didn’t make a habit of making conversation with him in public, or in groups. He was constantly preoccupied, and no matter what you did you’d end up wasting upwards of ten minutes trying to get his attention. If it wasn't as time sensitive as it was you’d let him drone on, but you also realized leaving your mother out of the loop would only be another thing you needed to worry about. At the end of the day what did it matter to him, he’d be oblivious whilst you dealt with the complaining and whining.

Suddenly, you felt a brush of a foot against the inside of your calf, gently, up and down. Javier wedged his leg between yours, bumping your knee ever so slowly with his. When you looked up at him he was listening to your dad. He stopped your restless legs, gently soothing their movement with each brush of his skin against yours, gaze still fixed on the conversation at hand.

You felt your eyes burn with hot tears as he dragged his foot along your calf, then continued to bump his knee with yours, his eyes unmoving as if nothing had happened. His touch was soft, and gentle, and barely there like the night before, just this time there was nothing sexual about it.

You pulled your leg back, folding your napkin and excusing yourself to get ready for the day. You felt his eyes follow you out of the restaurant.

—

It's alarming, truly

How disarming you can be

Eatin’ soft ice cream,

Coney Island queen

It had been a couple of hours since breakfast. You’d traded in your summer sun dress for a bathing suit and tie around, its sparkles twinkling against the glow of the sun.

Despite how much he seemed to be excited to indulge you that morning you’d think you’d never met, forget fucked Javier the way he was avoiding you. He tried to be subtle about it, occupying himself in conversations with everyone from the embassy receptionist to the ambassador.

Hell he even decided to join in the DEA volleyball game, the one that was happening right across from where you’d splayed out your beach blanket along with your friends. Just close enough to let him enjoy the view, but not close enough to arouse any suspicions.

The sun beat down on his golden skin. This was probably the most you’d seen him interact with the other DEA folks. By the looks of it they were just as surprised as you were to find him joining in. If only they knew.

The dirty old man.

Truth be told, as shameless as you were, you felt a little pervy looking at him the way you were, you wondered how he had the confidence. Each second you passed gawking at his broad frame, the way he seemed to get just a little bit aggressive when the game picked up pace. It felt like something you shouldn't have been doing in public. But since when did you care about that? You imagined what he would say to you if you were alone, how he’d tease and reprimand you for your staring.

“Just couldn’t keep your eyes off could you?”

“Desperate slut.”

He was one to talk. The man was far more of a slut than you could ever dream to be, and here he was calling you a whore.

He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Stay far away and preserve his sanity, but also secretly indulge in whatever perverted fantasy he had swimming in his head.

He took his little half time game break to discreetly watch you lather on your sunscreen, the way your hands roamed your body, down your bare legs and shoulders. You put on a little bit of a show, inching your hands under your tie around and towards your inner thighs. He’d called you a whore less than twelve hours ago but the man couldn't keep it in his pants for 10 minutes.

He did not look pleased. Not when he wasn’t the only one who could enjoy the view. Those junior agents of his had been watching you like a hound of hungry dogs. If there was one thing he couldn’t seem to handle, it was a bunch of mid twenty nobodies who could barely last twenty seconds eyeing what was his.

Your father made his way to the makeshift court just in time for a second game, to Javier’s dismay. He peeled his eyes away from you, reaching out to shake the ambassador’s hand and pass him the ball.

You watched from a distance as the two of them engaged in friendly banter, how Javier had managed to figure out your biggest irk in less than forty eight hours of knowing you was honestly impressive. He praised your fathers great service skills as the two racked up points on the scoreboard, sharing high fives and pats on the back. It was sickening. The coward didn’t even have the courage to look you in the eye in front of your father, and then decided his MO was playing best friend with him all afternoon.

You leaned back on your beach blanket, staring the sun right in its white face and hoping it would burn your retinas enough so that you’d never have to see that bastard with that man again. This whole thing was one thousand times less fun when Javier was getting along with your father.

You rolled your eyes under the cover of your sunglasses.

—

She says, "You don't want to be like me

Lookin' for fun, gettin' high for free

I'm dyin', I'm dyin'"

She says, "You don't want to get this way

Street walk at night and a star by day

It's tirin', tirin'"

You’d spent your day enduring the most obscene questions from your friends, all excited and far more interested than you’d initially assumed to know every gorey detail of your little adventure with Javier.

The drinks went down one after the other, you didn't even notice the sun had set. Javier remained out of sight, and you guessed it was a good thing, because you’d have jumped him the first chance you got.

First to give him a piece of your mind, and then to let him fuck you sensless.

It was ironic, popping gummies with a DEA agent on your mind. But Sophie had offered you some, and after a long day of thinking far too much about far too many things you decided it was a good idea to relax a little.

As had become routine the music from the beach side restaurant preoccupied you as you sat in the hottub, muscles taking a moment to untense under the water and bubbles. Your father had a private dinner with the former ambassadors that evening, but said it would be better if you didn’t tag along. They were going to talk business and it would bore you.

You were grateful, but probably not as much as the rest of the embassy, who could enjoy their night in peace.

The effects of the gummies were kicking in, and if you thought Javier consumed your thoughts before, his name was pretty much playing on loop in your head now. It had been a while since everyone retreated to their rooms, exhausted and far too intoxicated to be laying about in the hot tub. You knew he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Further muddy his reputation and risk his career or deprive himself of the joys of being with you.

You reached for your phone behind you, clicking it on and squinting your eyes on the time.

2:00 am.

You lit a cigarette, swinging your legs under the water and watching the moonlight illuminate your skin.

Part of the reason you tagged along this drag of a vacation in the first place was because you didn't want to wile away your summer, fearing staying at home you’d be cooped up in your room all day. But here you were half way through the weekend, wondering where the time went.

“Shouldn’t be smokin so much” He had a way of sneaking up on people, that Javier Peña. A regular entrance seemed to be just too mediocre for him. Frankly, you admired his love, or rather his addiction, to chaos. How in the world someone like him ended up a narc was still a mystery to you.

“You an activist all of a sudden?” You were turned away from him, but rolled your eyes non the less. You heard him sigh, and with your back still turned to him you heard him take a step or two towards you, then stop, sigh defeatedly and continue forward. The man was fighting himself, and it was far more entertaining to you than it should have been.

Turning to face him you leaned your elbows on the uneven stone that formed the deck of the hot tub, knees tucked under you as you sat atop the step leading into the water. He was still in his shorts from the morning, but had lazily half buttoned on his white cotton shirt from under which your eyes caught the mild sunburn on his exposed chest.

Squatting down to your level he let his eyes linger on your barely covered chest– on the diamond pendant that twinkled in the sun, and had caught his attention on that first day in the lobby. It sparkled against the cut of your breasts, floating in the blue water and brushing against your skin.

“This is not going to work if you keep sucking the ambassador's dick.”

“yeah , this-” he pointed between your bodies. “needs to stop.” The water rippled gently, much to the disappointment of Javier, whose eyes were trained on the distorted image of your body under the surface as you waded your way between his legs. He made space for you to come closer, but didn’t indulge you any further.

“But why?” You didn't really mean to, but you ended up dragging the ‘why’ out to the point you sounded like a desperate, pathetic mess. He almost flinched when you reached your hand forward, fingertips tracing soft shapes on his skin, right up to the hem of his black pool shorts. Then again, despite seemingly wanting nothing to do with you he moved just that little bit closer. Just enough to give himself away.

In an attempt to crumble his resolve you leaned your cheek against his thigh, pouting up at his yearning gaze. “Didn’t ya’ like it daddy?!”

He sucked in a breath. “Dont want your pops wondering who the fuck you’ve been callin’ daddy.” he looked around and then leaned closer. “cuz’ it sure as hell ain’t him.” You felt you skin heat, the subtle throb between your legs building.

“Since when do you give a shit what the ambassador thinks?” you pressed your lips to his skin, the faint aroma of his sunscreen invading your senses. Javier looked at you incredulously, but you were too dizzy to care.

“He's my boss, babydoll.” You giggled in response, dragging your lips against his inner thigh. Just as it was the night before the immediate and very real thrill of what you were doing and who you were doing it with persuaded you to keep going.

“But don’t you want to daddy?” your eyes fluttered shut as you spoke, words coming out slurred between your pouted lips. If getting high made you anything, it was seemingly desperate for Javier. You leaned your head against his thigh once again, resting it there as you gazed up at him through glossy eyes, meeting his gaze for the first time that night.

Admittedly, it was not a good idea. You shouldn't have expected otherwise from a DEA agent.

“Are-” He squeezed your cheeks between his thumb and index, dragging you off his thigh till you were inches away from his face. “Are you fucking high?!” He was stuck somewhere between furious, surprised and in disbelief– eyes incredulously searching your glazed ones. Closing the gap between you, you pecked him on the lips, making sure to accentuate the obnoxious ‘mwah’ sound you were for some reason, in your delirious and giggly mood, compelled to make.

“Just a little…”

You didn't believe his good employee act. A man so consumed by all things pleasure, one of the most hedonistic people you'd ever met, and he supposedly never smoked a joint? The man was a liar and you could see right through it.

You’d push that button another day though.

You giggled, tilting your head and taunting him. “Are you going to arrest me, officer?”

“I ain’t an officer babydoll.” He rolled his eyes, tapping your cheek roughly. Everywhere he touched left you wanting more.

“Babydoll this, babydoll that, you're boring me Agent Peña.” Your lust blown eyes searched for him and you leaned your body, dripping with water, against his. He didn't seem to mind, legs unfolding till he was seated with his feet in the hottub.

“You know you're a lot like your father.” he narrowed his eyes and seethed, still letting you press your face into his shoulder as you tucked yourself into his side. The thought was nauseating, but you were glad if he passed you down anything it was his stubbornness.

“Oh really? Dont tell me you wanna fuck him too?” You lifted your head and sank back into the water, just in time to watch him rub his eyes in exhaustion.

“No, but you sure as hell like bossin’ me around.”

Tilting your head you rose to your knees. ““I'm not the one who keeps crawling back for more” you trailed a finger across his chest “you’re here, aren’t you agent? out of your own violation?” His eyes were fixated on the swell of your breasts, but moved to your face as he grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hmm, didn't look like that when you were gawking at me this morning.” his nose brushed yours.

“Was returning the favor.” you shifted to whisper beside his ear. “God knows this isn't a part of your job.” You had been quite bold sober, but the intoxication seemed to aid your snappy mouth.

You caught the twinkle in his eyes again– the one you’d seen the first night, back at breakfast and at the beach. That look of his he gave you as a warning not to push his buttons. “Keep runnin that mouth babydoll. Let's see where it gets ya”

He fixed his gaze on your face as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. You fiddled with them, undoing them as slow as you could possibly manage. After he’d been getting an eyeful of you over the past two days you were quite satisfied to have him as exposed as you were.

He inched closer, easing himself into warm water, one hand on your waist the other on the granite behind him . He was finally at your level, close enough for you to pepper kisses along his sunburned chest. He hissed at the contact, sucking in a breath as he felt your lips, cool from the ice in your drink, ease the subtle burn.

His neck, his chest, you left practically no part of him untouched. Your hand sneaked up his leg as you palmed the bulge in his shorts. You watched him hiss, bit your lip in satisfaction when he could barely get your name out of his mouth.

You shifted to straddle his thigh, sighing at the temporary relief to the pressure building between your legs. “Don’t seem so mad to me, agent Peña..” He scoffed, but didn’t do anything to stop your actions.

The urge to push his buttons ran high, and you knew only good could come from you indulging it. Unable to hold back any further you shamelessly rolled your hips against him, sighing at the subtle relief it brought to your aching center.

Swallowing your moan in a kiss he played with the side of your bikini bottoms, toying with it. His hands slipped under the fabric, thumbs brushing against the swell of your ass.

Now soaked with your slick, it did little to cover your aching pussy. You squealed when you felt him slip his hand between your bodies, yanking the pathetic excuse of a cover up aside to let you press your bare cunt against his thigh.

“You’re not as scary as you make yourself out to be, aren’t you, daddy?”

He guided your hips over his thigh, agonizingly slow, the wet friction on your clit enough to have you pressing against him in further desperation. “‘Ya’ can’t even help yourself huh babydoll?” he growled in your ear, taking your earlobe gently between his teeth.

The heat traveled up your neck, scorching your skin till it reached your cheeks. The soft skin of your inner thigh continuously brushed against the threaded lower seam of his shorts, getting increasingly tender with every pass.

He squeezed your breast as flexed his thigh, each pass of your cunt sending your eyes rolling back into your head. Agent Peña was enjoying himself just as much as you were, no matter how much he refused to admit it.

You were delirious, drunk literally and on pleasure as the words left your mouth– soft and slurred. “Knew you were full’ve shit, Agent Peña.”

His hands stilled you on his thigh, his face hardened, palm coming down to meet the side of your face swifty before you could even realize what happened. You felt you pussy clench pathetically around nothing.

Sure, he liked the control, boy did you figure that out the hard way, but it seemed like he had a no tolerance policy when it came to back talk. He had to have known that your biggest motivation to do anything you’d been doing was to get a rise out of him– his scolding, his ‘putting you in your place’, was not so much a punishment as it was a reward.

You squirmed against his newly found grip on your waist, his words and the sting on your cheek only prompting you to attempt to rub yourself against him once again. Javier was not going to let that happen. “Watch that whore mouth of yours.”

With his thumb and index on either side of your face he shook you slightly from side to side, his other palm coming down against the side of your face once more.

On command, and somehow a little out of your control, a soft “sorry daddy” slipped past your lips, hands going to snake around his waist for a sense of comfort. Javier liked being mean sometimes, and you never knew it better than when in an attempt to put you in your place his palm struck your sore cheek once again.

Whining at his actions you grabbed the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, tugging him closer impossibly. “Your pops didn’t teach you any manners did he?” he tutted at you, stroking your head in a surprising display of gentleness. It still, however, dripped with condescension and mockery.

The sting on the side of your face felt like it was burning, but he didn't seem to care. You felt the desire bubble further in your core. “Don't you worry babydoll, daddy’ll make sure you behave” he landed a firm spank to your ass, making you yelp and fall forward into his chest.

“Someone’s gotta fuckin’ look out for you,” Smiling, he pinched the cheek he’d just slapped, seemingly enjoying your little “ow”s. “cuz your old man sure doesn’t. ain’t that right babydoll?” Hot tears pricked your eyes, making them flutter shut at the sting. You turned your face as he planted a soothing kiss below your ear.

Javier took your chin between his fingers, directing your face down to where you were straddling his lap. His free hand snaked between your bodies to cup your barely clothed mound.

“This tight lil pussy’s mine. Only daddy gets to make her feel good, fuck her.” He rubbed soft circles on your clit, making your hips shift to feel the little friction. His actions had you far more desperate than before. “When she feels good, ‘s cuz daddy’s lettin’ her.” He murmured darkly, sparkling brown eyes raised in a subtle warning towards yours. “Ya hear?”

You nodded, but he only landed another spank to your ass, prompting you to use your words.

“Daddy decides.” He leaned forward, large palm once again capturing your face.

“What was that? Know you can be louder babydoll–” he squeezed your cheeks harder, biting out his words. “heard it last night.”

Mewling, you repeated yourself– this time louder, but also feeling smaller. His skin felt warm as you leaned your now tender cheek against it in an attempt to get back into his good graces.

“That's better, ain't that right?” Javier smiled gently, hands guiding you over his thigh once again. “So much better when you listen huh?” You could only manage to nod.

“All this just for some attention, huh babydoll?” he brushed his knuckles against your soft skin. He talked down to you, patronizing you, but it only made bare down on his thigh harder. “Fuckin’ pathetic.”

Your lips turned to a downward tilt. He matched your pout, still stroking your skin. “Hate to see it don't ya? pretty little thing like you, whoring herself around” he brought your hand to his hard cock, letting you rub him over his shorts.

‘Like a free use hooker.” You felt your pussy twitch at his words, at the way he chuckled darkly before he spoke again.

“Could give the girls at the brothel a run for their money.”

Rather haphazardly, he pulled you to straddle his lap, a new sense of urgency taking over in the wake of your mild submission. You felt his hard length press against your pussy and shuddered.

“Want it inside, daddy, please” That white cotton shirt of his you so loved was discarded and tossed to the side of the deck in seconds, letting your hands roam freely across his body– grab onto his broad shoulders.

“I know baby” he stroked your arm gently. “Just needed daddy’s attention” You resumed softy grinding against him, his hands once again taking hold of your hips.

Sighing, you closed your eyes, letting the quaint atmosphere of the sleeping resort shift you in your own little private universe for the time being. All was lost in the mix of tempered moans and sighs, your delirious state only heightening the pleasure.

Javier’s hand slipped up your back, under the band of your bikini top to unclasp it discreetly. You would have barely noticed if it wasn't for how he groaned as he slipped it off you, palm immediately moving to palm and squeeze your breasts. He kissed up your bare stomach, then your collar bones, letting you press your lips to his when you urged his face up to yours.

He always tasted the same– cigarettes and whiskey. You could get used to it if you were being honest. He was drowning you in his presence, when he was around nothing else seemed to matter besides getting him inside you, or getting on his nerves. You wondered if you really had as much power over him as you thought you did.

You kicked yourself for being so oblivious and distracted. Before you knew it the strings of your bikini top were being slipped off their clasps and being used to bind your hands together. The guy was a cop, and probably a pretty good boy scout guessing from the unmoving boxknot he made at the back of your wrists. The string was tight, any of your movements prompting an unfavorable friction against your skin.

You felt him smile against your cheek as you pulled back, twisting your body side to side in an attempt to free yourself. Your face burned in humiliation as he chuckled at your futile attempts, and frustrated huffs.

“Told ya baby..”

“You are such a dick.” Humming, he pulled you down onto his lap further, dragging your dripping cunt against his cock. “You’ve gotten lucky tonight, brat..”

With your hands tied behind your back there was no choice. You had two options, sink back and let your head fall under the water, or sit pretty for him on his lap. The time of your bratting around was far from over, but you let him have his little measly victory.

He lined his thick cock up with your warm center, teasing your aching hole and just barely pushing in. “You gonna be a brat the rest of the night?”

You squirmed, shaking your head vigorously. “You gonna stop being such a fuckin slut? Runnin’ ya hands all over yourself at the beach-” He pushed in just a little bit further, his tip breaching your warm center. “Givin’ those boys a show?”

You blubbered out an urgent “no daddy”, shifting side to side as you screwed your eyes shut in frustration. You could barely take it any longer. From the way Javier had his eyes trained on you it seemed like neither could he.

With a deep but broken groan he pushed inside you in a single swift thrust, stretching you open on his thick cock. It was a relief to be full again, the sensation ghosting over you since the last time. His hands smoothed up and down your thighs under the water, squeezing the flesh of your ass till you yelped.

“Think your pops out there? Walkin’ round, tryna figure out where the fuck you disappeared?” He growled in your ear, obviously proud of himself beyond measure. His cock was nestled deep in your pussy, shallow thrusts hitting that sweet spot inside you you could barely reach in the morning.

“thinks I'm sleepin.” you panted. You felt him twitch inside you.

“Dirty little girl.” He laughed mockingly, then met your hips in a harsh thrust. You rested your forehead against his, letting him place kisses to your slack lips and watch your eyes flutter shut.

You felt small in his lap, engulfed by his presence and broad shoulders, onto which you attempted to rest your head against as your hips rose and fell over his. You nipped the underside of his jaw, then pressed a kiss there. “Little brat”

The water made a seductive splashing sound as you shifted. Anyone in the vicinity would be immediately privy to what exactly was going on. The mix of alcohol, drugs and Javier’s hands on your body spread a fuzzy tingle across your skin.

Your lips parted in a wordless cry, you were so so close.

“Such a good little slut when you finally fuckin’ listen” his cock hits your sweetspot in the perfect angle as he rocks his hips up into you. You’re barely doing any work, letting him use you as you sit on his lap.

“Gonna ruin this pretty lil body for all those boys. Fuck you like you need.” He grunted in your ear, throbbing and pulsing inside you. “Cuz on one else can babydoll.”

The coil in your belly was quick to tighten, you felt your walls quiver around his cock as you began to cum. You bit down on his shoulder as you came undone, trying your best to stay quiet amongst the sound of bubbling water, crashing waves and chirping crickets. He fucked you through it, groaning as he felt your pussy suck him in.

Javier was quick to follow, thrusts getting shallow and sloppy as he fucked into your wet heat, an incoherent “babydoll” falling from his mouth as he painted your pulsing walls with his warmth.

The sound of crashing waves seemed deafening as you both caught your breath, the certain mess you’d made on his lap not bothering you at the moment. You were still imobile thanks to your restraints, and lay your head on his chest as he peppered soft kisses to the cheek he’d slapped and pinched minutes ago.

His hands snaked behind your back, untying the unmoving boxknot he released your hands from the makeshift restraints, then ran his thumb over the sore flesh. You sat atop his lap, still stuffed full of his cock– softening inside you. He tried to similarly pepper the tender flesh of your wrists with soft kisses, but you pulled them away, twisting them for comfort.

For a man who had slept with the entirety of Colombia he sure liked to take his time with the intimacy. He held you to his chest– still rising and falling and pulled out, tucking himself back into those infamous black pool shorts. Just as he did the day before he stroked your skin gently under the water, and instinctively you pulled your legs together when he reached between them, thighs closing around his hand as he shifted your bathing suit back in place.

In that blissed out mood he layed back in the hot tub, letting the bubbles wash over his chest, pressing his warm lips to your even warmer cheek and sighing up at the sky. With how preoccupied you were the night before you’d missed the clear skies of Cartajena. It was difficult to remember the last time you could actually see the stars. He kissed your cheek again.

Shifting your head to the side you placed your hands on the outside of the hottub, lifting yourself off his lap and out of the water. He looked at you, somewhat confusedly, but didn’t push you further. You felt your tie on skirt stick messily to your upper thighs. It dropped to the floor with a heavy plop when you undid it.

You reached to grab his discarded shirt off the ground. It was seeped in the scent of his sunscreen– a fresh fougère, crushed grass, and lavender. He leaned his head back, watching as it clung ever so slightly to your wet skin when you slipped it on– the white fabric turning translucent. He kept his eyes on the shameless show you put on for him– reaching down to shimmy off your wet bikini from under the shirt's cover. You felt his spend lewdly trickle down your leg.

“Makin’ me walk back cold?” he breathed jokingly, lifting his head off the granite and nodding it towards you.

“I can take it off” You smiled as you reached for the top button, undoing it. He watched, for whatever reason expecting you to stop. You moved down another, then another, and another.

You caught the subtle tick in his jaw. “Put it back on. Now”

“M’kay daddy..” bending and reaching for your bathing suit that had formed in a pile on the warm ground you met his gaze, the collar of your, rather his shirt riding down too close for comfort.

And to think he’d tried to ignore you the whole day. He was crazy. You stood up straight, beginning to walk back into your room.

“Don’t forget about me this time, daddy..”

The boys, the girls

They all like Carmen

She gives them butterflies

Bats her cartoon eyes

She laughs like God

Her mind's like a diamond

Audiotune lies

She's still shinin'

Like lightning, whoa, whoa

White lightning

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think. Made myself sad by making her refuse Javi’s aftercare but we’ll deal with that later. This took way longer than intended so I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work you keep my writing. Dividers and banners by @ Saradika 💗🫶🐝

497 notes · View notes

ananiel · 8 months ago

Note

Okay, I know and I'm very sorry that I am bothering you again. I just thought about something crazy.... What if Sherlock and William baby traped Obanai!Reader? And she can't bring herself to kill the babies because it's not babies's fault? It's twins by the way. Girl and Boy.

And if you are writing NSFW can you do it too?

And I am very sorry again for bothering you with my requests😭

I just like how you write about it and how you are imagining it. I have plenty scenarios but I don't know how to write them🥲

Yes, i am not the best at writing nsfw but i can certainly try, and do not worry, You are of no bother at all, i like taking requests, and that is a very good idea!

Yandere sherlock holmes x reader x yandere William james moriarty

Tw : mentions of killing intent, non con, yandere themes, baby trapping, drugging, dark content, read at your own risk!

Nsfw!

--------------------------------------------------

IT had been days since they saw your scars... Days since they started making side comments, side comments that became more and more disturbing for You

"do You think that the child Will have your beautifull eyes?"

"... Ha, you'd look so good round, full with children, my darling"

You weren't dumb either. You knew what they were hinting at, all the soft touches, sugestive looks and most importantly, on the rarely ocasions that they let You go outside... The way they would stare at pregnant or mother's with their children, especially if the Young ones were still babies. Every time, You would see at least one of them stare long, with a small smile as his hand went to your stomach, holding it tight (and You in place)

Of course, You expected what came next, a talk with them, over tea, which, as a fool, You took, in which they wanted to prepare You, and say that You are at a Point in your relathionship in which the time for kids is right... They were old enough, and so were You for that.

You protested, screaming at them as You told them that You would never want to raise children, or have sex, with either one... And they took that... Smirking?

When your vision got slightly blury You understood why, of course, they planned this, they knew You, they knew You wouldn't accept it in no way posible. But drugging? This was low even for them, You wanted to say, but do You truly know them both so well to say that? Can You even say that, knowing You were talking about your kiddnappers and possible rapists?

"no... No...." You breath out, trying to pull yourself togheter as You saw them inch closer.

Maybe it was your tired mind, but You could swear that You saw their faces twisted in that awfull smirks of theirs.

Sherlock was the one to grab You to your feet and making You grind against his erected cock while he let out a shaky breath of pleasure.

"now sherlock... Be patient Will You? Your turn Will come"

William says wraping his arms around your waist and holding your ass against his pants.

"it is easy for You, Liam, You will be the first to take her"

You shooks your head, your ears ringing as sherlock comented, and his rough hands adictinvly went and unbottined your shirt, giving them acces to your bare skin.

Seeing that, William's lips made contact with your neck and shoulders, whispering sweet nothings about how You will see that this is the best for You, that You were made to be a mother and that You will thank them for impregnating You when You would see the beautifull baby that will come out of you all.

You fall on the sofa, them soon following and taking their positions, with William behind You and Sherlock in front of You, Sherlock captured your lips in a pasionate kiss, his hands going to your hips as his toungue plays around your mouth, his hands guiding Your hips to meet William's, earning a few moans from the blond as he continued to pree open mouthed Kisses to your neck, making You unconsciouly moan against Sherlock's mouth, which grew his need dor You.

They continued to whisper sweet nothings here and there, but that didn't help, didn't help at all, as tears weild up in your eyes and their hands opened up your pants.

You were too weak to fight, and the combination of sherlock's roughness and the way William softly rubs his hands all over your skin... It was getting good, as much as you hated to admit it, as much as you hated the fact that they did make You wet.

William smiles mischevously as he felt the wetness from your panties, bring to of his fingers to tease your entrace before inserting them slowly, making You yelp weakly against Sherlock's mouth.

William started thrusting his fingers, making small pauses that had You embarassingly trying to meet his thrusts.

"see? Told ya she's gonna come around eventually, now hurry up Liam, am getting impatient... "

William playfully rolls his eyes as sherlock Kisses down your chest, ending up sucking on one of your nipples as his hand massages the other one.

William continues to thrust his fingers up, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, but before You can come, he removes his fingers, making You grown.

You left soft moans spill out of your lips from sherlock's actions as your eyes widen when You heard the William's pants falling down.

"easy now..." he shushes as he gives himself a pump before guiding You on himself, making You take him inch by inch. Not giving You time to get used to him before he bottoms out

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as You felt him slowly snap his hips back in you, earning a very loud moan from you, followed by more small muffle ones.

"hey... I'm getting jealous, pay attention to me too... " sherlock whispers, his hands playing with your clit as William thrusted his hips fast, making You reach your High that was denied earlier

"oh... This is... Better than i could've ever dreamed" he says in between groans and pants, his motions continuing for what felt like hours, as he continued to thrust, not giving You time to come down from your High

You moaned louder.

"we talked that after cumming we Switched William" sherlock bites into your shoulder, as if to show that he is very serious, not that William could seem to care less

"Said about switch ing after coming, she did, i didn't, wait till i finish and have your turn, it's not like she is going anywhere"

William rests his head against your shoulder, shotting his load inside you.

Panting, he gives one more thrust before pulling away.

"finally!" sherlock exclaims as pushes inside you, causing You to yelp, thinking that ha wasn't prepared, and that You would get a small break.

But no, the overstimulation was making You even more lightheaded than You already were because of the druged Tea. And jesus, You didn't know if You liked sherlock's aproach more, or William's. William was more calculated, having a rythm that he trusted in, while at sherlock it felt like every single thrust was difrent from the other, making your stomach twist and turn. You were close again, and if they fucked You thought this orgasm again, You are more than sure that You will pass out

"forgeting about me?" William asks as he presses down on your stomach, making You moan as he could feel sherlock's dick against his finger. You let out a loud moan as You came, William kissing your neck whole smiling as sherlock seemed to lost in his pleasure tto give a reaction other than a moan from the aditional squeze "you'll see my darling, once this children are born, You will thank us"

Sherlock nods, too lost into his pleasure to respond properly as he chases his high, bitting down on the opposite shoulder that is planting the Kisses.

His movements get more sloppy, and after 2 more thrusts, he cums. You fall against his chest, breathing in deeply as tears start pooling from your eyes again, but You don't know what they are. Maybe fear, maybe overstimulation, hatred .

"your turn now, Liam" Your eyes widen at that

"let her rest a minute, she needs it if we want her to not pass out and remember everything"

And remember everything you did, You felt disgusted at yourself, You looked into the mirror at your stomach almost 8 times a day, trying to see a difrence, trying to see if truly You were pregnant with their children.

You dreded the fact that You were late, that You were sleeping more, that You were more picky, and they couldn't seem to get enough of them.

They had, physician after physician come, but after the first one was killed right in front of You after You tried to tell him the truth, that You were forced into this. You weren't trying to take any risks now, You didn't want a poor man's blood on your hands.

Twins.

Twins, oh how happy they were at the sound of twins, how empty You felt, thinking that instead of one reminders of what happend, You had two. Two little beasts to resemble the bigger ones.

At month 5 You were already big enough to cause some disconfort, which they took grade pleasure in, helping and always holding your stomach... You considered more than once to fall down a fight of stairs, to end this pregnancy and posibly yourself, but something stopped You, the vow You made to be better than your parents.

You hated those kids, and it made You hate yourself more, that You couldn't love them, that You will end up maybe worse than your whole clan. What choice did the children have? It's not like they were at fault for who their fathers are...

You saw them put the cribs, You saw them react and tell everyone, and soon, You will see them hold the babies too. You saw the obbsesion, the need in their eyes more than enough to know that, that was the case now too. The children were a way too keep You close to them, but also, to have another piece of you.

They were obssesed with the kids too.

For You, they were the snake demon You had to cut your face for. They were the monster that your parents failed to protect You form, they were the demons You won't leave your children in the hands of those demons.

When they were born, You held them, You held one beautifull boy with blue hair and your striking eyes, and one girl, the spliting image of William, of it weren't for one colored eye that wasn't Red, her heterocromia made her somehow cuter, in the eyes of you, someone that was crytisized for them your whole life.

You were tired after birth, but You held strong, making sure that the two men have as little contact with the babies as posible that is until You heard one private discusion

"oh Liam, You genius, she doesn't even know that the children Will have our possesive traits!"

What? You looked at the baby in your arms, feeling lightheaded

"Who would expect a child being obssesed sherly, and You saw the babies' eyes, how they follow her... Our little copies. She can't escape now, and with the children, it's not like she wants to, the door has been opened and left unguared for a week, she won't ever escape now "

Door opened... You rushed to their cribs, putting each one of them in their respective cribs, looking at them for one last Time...

Not survivours like You... No... They were tiny baby demons... They were holding You out of fear for them in a Cage, only that it was opened, this time, the Cage is opened...

This time You can run...

You don't look back, You don't take anything... Foolled, You were tricked by the offsprings of demons.

And You won't accept it, won't accept being held hostage no more.

You were a better mother than your parents could ever be, and that made You proud, but after your past was hunted by snake people, You won't let another kind of those people control You any longer

(i am thinking to make a continuation of this, like, iguro obanai darling escapes without the children, and while sherliam are busy trying to find her, Louis and entity! Reader, that he didn't love at first, take care of the kids, but seeing her so motherly, he slowly starts to get obsesive, seeing the children as their own and the entity as his partner. What do You guys think?)

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #william james moriarty #louis james moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #mtp x you #william james moriarty x reader #Iguro obanai! Reader #yandere sherlock holmes #mtp sherlock #sherliam #sherlock x reader #yandere william james moriarty #yandere moriarty the patriot #yandere moriarty the patriot x reader #Yandere mtp #Mtp smut #Entity! Reader

113 notes · View notes