#benedict cumberbatch x reader smut

[ironstrange1991]

The Healing Touch

Pairing: Stephen!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The Reader has a terrible headache and Stephen goes full doctor mode to take care of her

Word Count: 4,1k

A/N: This fic is total self indulgent. The entire medical part is based on my experience with the worst headache I've ever had in my life. I had to take something positive from the whole situation. Hope you guys like it and have a nice reading ;)

You had never had such a bad headache in your entire life. It was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes and prevent you from working. It had all started with an allergy attack due to the renovation work in the office building where you worked. Even taking the anti-allergy medication you were used to taking, things only got worse and soon your airways were completely blocked and you had an incessant cough that made you want to vomit your guts out.

But things got worse when you woke up on Friday with a headache that simply wouldn't go away no matter how many painkillers you took. The persistent pain got worse over the days, reaching its peak on Monday morning. When you woke up, you simply couldn't open your eyes, and when you tried to get up, your head hurt with a piercing throb that made you sit down again and fall into silent tears. 

It was a nightmare. Stephen was on mission and you hadn't been able to talk to him in the last few days. You were practically married to a doctor, but you couldn't count on him to help you when you needed it most and that only made you cry even more, giving in to despair.

After a few minutes you forced yourself to get up and staggered to the bathroom where you forced yourself into the shower, hoping that the cold water would somehow help you, but there was no improvement. As you were changing your clothes, feeling dizzy from the strength of the pain and the throbbing in your forehead, you decided that you would take a taxi and go straight to the hospital. By that point, your anxious mind was already telling you that you had a brain tumor.

You were slowly walking down the stairs, each step you took making your head ache even more, when you heard the familiar hiss of a portal opening in the entrance hall. You didn't feel excited, already imagining it was Wong and the light coming from the windows and the door barely allowed you to open your eyes to see anything, but then you heard a baritone voice informing you that it was Stephen who had arrived.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?" His voice was a big relief, although it sounded extremely worried and as if by magic - which it was - he was by your side, helping you to put your arm around his neck and picking you up. He quickly went downstairs and took you to the nearest sofa in the main hall and knelt in front of you. Cloaky let go of his shoulders and flew nervously across the room, stopping behind the sofa and watching you.

Stephen's presence, although a relief, made you succumb to tears again.

"Hey, Y/n, look at me, tell me what's going on, you look pale. What are you feeling?" He asked, going into full doctor mode and forcing your eyes open so he could examine them.

"My head is exploding." You finally managed to speak. "It's been hurting since Friday, but today it's unbearable, Stephen. I can't handle the pain."

Stephen conjured a small flashlight to examine your pupils and then hummed to himself looking relieved. "The pupils are normal. That's good. Can you follow my finger, please?" He asked, raising his index finger to the level of your eyes and directing it to the left and then to the right slowly. You followed the movement with your eyes to which he praised.

"Very good. Now tell me how many fingers you see." He asked, showing you three fingers.

"Three."

"Very good. And now?" He showed you one finger.

"One."

"Good. One more time. How many fingers?" He asked, closing his fist.

"None."

He nodded, sighing in relief. But the small wrinkle that always appeared between his eyebrows was still there.

"How is your vision? Can you see perfectly or is it blurry? Any black spots or spots of light?"

You shook your head. "I can see, but I can't keep my eyes open because the light makes it hurt even more." You whimpered. "The pain is too bad, Stephen. I don't know what to do."

Stephen shushed you, putting the small flashlight aside and bringing his two thumbs to your forehead, positioning them just above your eyebrows and pressing them there in circular motions.

"Fuck." You hissed.

"I hit the spot, didn't I? Here is where it hurts the most?"

You nodded. "And inside of my eyes and on my cheeks. It feels like my whole face hurts. Even my teeth."

He hummed positively but remained silent, moving his fingers from your forehead to your cheekbones and down to the joint of your jaw, putting some pressure there.

"It hurts so much, Stephen. What if I have a brain tumor? Or... or an aneurysm? What if I have an aneurysm?" Your voice was getting shakier and shakier, and heavy tears fell from your eyes. "I don't want to die, Stephen. I don't want to." You said, clinging to him and hiding your face in his neck as you gave in to crying again.

Stephen wrapped you in his arms, one of his hands stroking your hair as he shushed you. "You're not going to die, sweetheart, and you don't have an aneurysm or a brain tumor." He said, trying to reassure you.

"But it hurts too much." You whimpered.

"I know. I'll make it stop. I promise. I'm here now. But you need to let me go so I can go to the drug store to get your medication."

But the idea seemed absurd to you and instead of letting him go, you tightened your arms around him even more, which made him grunt softly and pull your hands away gently.

"What you have is called sinusitis. It's a serious inflammation of the airways that causes secretions to build up in this region here." He explained, pulling you away enough so he could illustrate what he was saying. He ran his index finger along your cheekbones and above your nose. "Because of the inflammation, you feel pain here." He continued moving his finger down to your jaw. "That's why your teeth hurt too." You nodded.

"But why does my head have to hurt so much? I don't understand." You asked, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand.

"Because the inflammation causes the facial muscles to tense up, which causes all the pain." He explained, standing up, but you held his hand tightly.

"Don't leave me alone. Please."

Stephen sighed. "I really need to go, love. The sooner you get your medication, the faster you'll get rid of the pain. Isn't that what you want?" He asked and you nodded, but kept holding his hand anyway.

"I had an idea. What if Clocky stays with you while I go, huh? Do you think that's a good idea?"

Before you could even answer, you felt the sentient relic moving excitedly behind you.

"It really loves you, you know?" Stephen insisted and you finally let go of his hand and watched him gesticulate with his head for the relic to come closer. Cloaky quickly flew over the couch and wrapped you in a comfortable hug. One of the things you loved about it - besides the fact that it was a magical piece of clothing that had thoughts and feelings just like Aladdin's carpet and you thought that was amazing - was that it smells like Stephen.

The warmth and soft touch comforted you somehow and you leaned against the back of the couch and curled your legs up trying to get as comfortable as possible.

"That's great, sweetie. I'll be back in a minute. I promise." He said and with a quick gesture of his fingers his robes were exchanged for jeans and a shirt and he walked quickly towards the door.

...

Stephen hated waiting in line. He had always been impatient, but ever since he learned the mystic arts he simply couldn't accept that there were things he couldn't solve with magic. Sure, he could open a portal and get the medication he needed, but that would be stealing and he considered himself an honest enough guy to do that. So there he was waiting in line at the checkout with a basket in his hand, waiting for the woman to pass the purchases of the person in front of him with an almost deliberate slowness while everyone in the drug store continued to stare at him in the strange way that everyone else stared at him when they recognized him.

When it was finally his turn, the woman named Katia looked at him with a sour face and said in a tedious manner, "Prescription, please."

Stephen sighed, "I don't have a prescription. I'm a doctor. The medication is for me." He lied shamelessly.

The woman cast a suspicious look at the basket and then at him. "I'll need to see your license."

Stephen sighed, letting his irritation show. "Come on, you know who I am. Everyone knows I'm a doctor."

"I'll need your license, sir."

Stephen sighed, taking out his wallet and opening it with difficulty because his hands were shaking more then usual. He took the document and showed it to her, then put it back.

"That's 145 dollars." She said, finally putting the boxes inside a plastic bag and handing it to him.

"Keep the change for the wonderful service." He said ironically, handing her the money and finally leaving the drug store and returning to the usual movement of Manhattan.

When Stephen finally returned home, it seemed like it had taken hours, but it had only been 25 minutes. He found you still in the same position, cuddled with Cloaky and with your eyes closed. He quickly moved his fingers, closing all the curtains in the room and approaching.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I tried to go as fast as I could..." He said and Cloaky gently pulled away from your hold and flew up the stairs.

He sat down next to you and conjured a glass of water and handed it in your hands while he opened the medication boxes and took out the pills and put in your hand.

"This is an anti-inflammatory, this one is an antibiotic and together they will cure the inflammation and relieve the tension."

You nodded, putting the two pills in your mouth and swallowing them with a sip of water. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that you didn't question him, just trusted him completely. He knew that a big part of that trust was because you loved him, but an important part was because you trusted him as a doctor and Stephen missed that. He missed being a doctor, having people's trust in that way and feeling good about being able to save a life or help someone in that way.

"This one is for the pain. It's a strong painkiller and should take effect within a few minutes. It will make you drowsy, though."

You took the pill and threw it in your mouth, swallowing it quickly while you poured the glass of water. Stephen smiled tenderly, taking the glass and placing it on the coffee table. Then he took a small bottle from the bag and opened it, showing you how to use it. "This one you spray twice in each nostril, and it will help decongest your nose and make you breathe better."

But instead of taking the bottle from his hand, you just got closer to him and put your head forward, waiting for him to apply the medicine to you. Stephen let out a small chuckle, feeling his chest get warm. You were so cute. Even in that situation that wasn't the least bit funny, you managed to be extremely adorable.

"There you go." He said, finishing the application of the medicine and putting them all back in the bag and placing the bag on the table. "Now come here." He asked, stretching out his arms so you could snuggle into his chest. “I think you need cuddles.”

He hugged you, gently resting his chin on the top of your head. "I'm sorry I wasn’t here for you, sweetheart. I hate these missions sometimes, especially when we can't communicate." He confessed. Deep down he was feeling extremely guilty about the situation, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. If he had been there, he would have diagnosed the problem sooner and spared you so much pain. After all, what was the point of dating a doctor if you couldn't count on him when you needed him most?

"You're here now. That's all that matters." You answered, lifting your head to look at him and it broke his heart to see your eyes red with tears like that. He cupped your cheek gently. "Can I kiss you? I heard that getting a kiss from me is the best medicine for sinusitis." He joked, managing to get a small smile from your lips.

 "Kiss me all you want then." You said with a tired smile and he giggled, kissing you softly on the lips and then giving small kisses on your cheeks, on the tip of your nose, finishing on your forehead.

You hummed softly. "I love you, Steph." You said, laying your head back on his chest.

"And I love you, sweetheart. More than you can imagine." He confessed and you hummed again, but remained silent and he respected your silence. He knew that the pain you were feeling wasn’t small. Sinus headaches could be extremely painful, and you had endured it for as long as you could without asking for help. He only wished you had gone to the hospital sooner. He hated seeing you in pain.

...

You didn't realize you had fallen asleep until you woke up to the sound of soft voices talking. Stephen hadn't moved a muscle apparently, possibly to avoid waking you up, but now he was talking to someone.

"I'm glad she's okay now. Give her my best wishes when she wakes up." You heard Wong's voice and kept your eyes closed. The excruciating pain had passed, but your head was still sore and there was still a slight throb above your eyebrows.

"Are you going back to Kamar Taj yet?" You heard Stephen ask.

"Yes. Lots to do as usual. I'll let you rest for the night, Stephen. We'll talk tomorrow morning. Send me an update on Y/n when she wakes up." And as soon as he finished speaking, you heard the squeak of the portal opening and closing and then silence followed only by the sporadic sound of cars passing by on the street.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised to find the Sanctum plunged into darkness. A single lamp was on, emanating a dim light from the kitchen. You had no idea how many hours you had slept, but you were completely dizzy, probably due to the effect of the medicine. You yawned and rubbed your eyes slowly, noticing that the pain behind them had also diminished considerably. Stephen moved slowly and then stroked your hair.

"Are you awake, sweetheart?" His voice was hoarse and heavy with sleep, which made you wonder if he had fallen asleep too.

"What time is it?" You asked softly.

"Almost nine." He answered. "You've slept for almost ten hours."

You rubbed your eyes again and then looked at him in surprise. "You've been here this whole time?"

"I left you in Cloaky's care so I could shower and eat, but I basically spent the day on this couch. I ended up falling asleep too, which is a rarity. I woke up to Wong calling me and asking for a book."

You smiled to yourself. "I'm glad you got some rest too."

He hummed positively. "How are you feeling? Better, I hope."

You nodded, slowly lifting your head to look at him now that your eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

"My head is sore, hurts a little, but the excruciating pain is gone."

Stephen smiled, cupping your cheek and stroking it slowly with his thumb. "That's great. But I'm afraid you'll need to take another painkiller now to give the anti-inflammatory time to kick in before the pain starts to come back." He explained.

"But if I take another one of those I'll sleep for another ten hours." You complained, to which he shook his head.

"I think a Tylenol will do for now. I'll get it for you." He said, threatening to get up, but you held him in place and cupped his face.

"Stay. Just a minute more."

He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll be back in a moment."

You let him go reluctantly, but took the opportunity to sit up. Your body was limp and you felt like you were slightly drunk, so you avoided getting up. Suddenly you saw your bag on the coffee table and remembered that you hadn't even texted your boss, but before you could think to do so, Stephen was back answering the question you hadn't even voiced.

"I called the office and told them you were sick. You're staying home tomorrow too, by the way. Doctor's orders."

You nodded, watching him approach. He was wearing gray pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His hair, always impeccable, was messy and a few strands fell over his forehead. He looked handsome as always, but you couldn't help but notice a nasty cut on his cheek that you hadn't noticed before.

"You're hurt." You said as he sat down next to you, handing you a Tylenol pill and picking up the empty glass on the table and handing it to you. With a simple gesture of his hand, the glass filled with water.

"It's nothing. Drink it."

You obeyed, and the whole time he looked at you with tenderness in his eyes, but the crease between his eyebrows was still there.

"I'm fine, Stephen. Really."

He nodded, taking the glass from your hand and placing it back on the table.

"Seeing you in pain was a horrible experience, Y/n. It made me think that I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, and I'm not just talking about illnesses. The work I do, the things I deal with are extremely evil. It makes me think about the risk you run by living with me."

You smiled, trying to ignore what he was saying, but deep down you knew he was right. Living in the Sanctum with the Master of the Mystic Arts was a risk, but one you were willing to take because you loved him. "Let's not think about that." You simply said. "I'm fine and you came back from your mission safe and sound. That's all that matters."

He nodded, taking your hand in his and promptly changed the subject. "You need to eat something before taking the next dose of medication."

"Pizza." You asked immediately, which made him giggle.

"I was thinking about a salad..."

"I thought I was going to die today from a brain tumor. Fuck the salad, I want pepperoni pizza with lots of cheese and chocolate ice cream for dessert."

Stephen smiled broadly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Whatever you say. I'll order and while we wait, I'll help you take a shower. What do you think?"

You nodded. "I don't think I can stand up on my own to do it anyway. Whatever you gave me made me totally dizzy."

"I told you it was strong, didn't I? But the important thing is that it took the pain away."

You nodded. "Thanks for taking care of me, Steph."

"That's what you do when you love someone, isn't it? You've taken care of me so many times, sweetheart. I lost count of how many times you patched me up after I came back from a mission. That’s what people who love each other do."

You smiled "I really do love you."

...

Stephen had never seen you eat pizza so eagerly and then devour two bowls of ice cream. It was cute. Even your childish palate was something he found adorable about you. He ate four slices of pizza himself and found himself having seconds of dessert, which he rarely did. After a day like the one you had, he was sure you both deserved the comfort of the food.

Finally, you got ready for bed and ended up in bed with the lamp on, giving the room a low, comfortable light.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked to confirm, but it was clear from the look in your eyes that the medication was taking effect.

"Better. I barely feel any pain, but my head is still sore."

He caressed your face, watching you settle into the pillows next to him. "It's normal after such intense pain. You'll be better tomorrow."

You smiled, biting your lower lip and making that little face you always did when you wanted something, but you didn't say anything, you just brought your hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in it and scratching gently. Stephen closed his eyes, indulging in the touch and only then noticing how tired he was. The mission had been energetic, it had been a really hard few days that had taken a lot out of him physically and although he had managed to sleep for an hour or two, he could feel the exhaustion taking over him.

"Hm, it feels so good." He found himself confessing as he melted into your touch. "I missed you, sweetheart. Every day all I could think about was that I wanted to go home." He opened his eyes to see you smiling sweetly at him and slowly you snuggled closer to him as he automatically reached out to hold you impossibly close.

You cupped his cheek and pulled him to your lips, kissing him slowly, but with a growing desire. "I missed you too. I had plans for when you got back. I wanted to surprise you with a special dinner, but it wasn't possible." You said and he smiled reassuringly.

"Well, even though the day wasn't the most pleasant, it's safe to say we had a special dinner tonight. The pizza was very good." He said smirking.

"But there was something else I wanted to give you when you got back." You said, hooking your leg around his hip teasingly and Stephen soon understood what you were up to, but even though he wanted it as much as you did, he was forced to reason.

"Unfortunately, it's not a good idea, sweetheart, even though I really want it."

You frowned, clearly annoyed. "Why not? After the day I've had, don't I deserve a little affection?"

Stephen nodded with a smile. Of course you did. You deserved everything you wanted and he believed he deserved it too after the mission he had just returned from, but it wasn't always possible to get what you deserved. "Trust me, you do, but I don't want to risk making your headache worse."

You stared at him, not understanding what one thing had to do with the other, and he chuckled, trying to explain in a way that made sense.

"Remember what we talked about the tension in your facial muscles making your head hurt?"

You nodded.

"When we make love and you have a good time, which is always, I hope, the pleasure makes you tense the muscles of your entire body, even those on your face and especially during orgasm, which could lead to an orgasmic headache."

You rolled your lips, trying not to laugh. "Did you just make that up?"

Stephen let out a soft laugh. "Of course not. I'm serious. It's a real problem that you don’t have, but given the sinusitis, orgasm could be a trigger for a worsening of your condition."

You buried your face in his neck, laughing softly, and the sound was very welcome after he had seen you crying in pain earlier. "Believe me, I would never make that up, especially since I'm climbing the walls after so many days without sex."

"It hasn't been that many days." You contradicted him. "But I believe you, as stupid as it may seem. I just hate this fucking sinus thing even more now." You groaned.

"Your treatment will last five days, but after that we will have plenty of time to make up for it, trust me."

You sighed, lifting your head to look at him. "You'll have to make it up to me tonight with lots of kisses."

Stephen smiled. "As many as you want, sweetheart." He said, pulling you back to his lips.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[strangesthirdeye]

Y/n: *groans in frustration* Fuck me

Sherlock: *lowers his pants*

Y/n: *looks at Sherlock with wide eyes* wow

[jakegyllenbaalz]

tom hardy and benedict cumberbatch in stuart, a life backwards (2007)

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

Realization

Summary: After hooking up with Stephen on the night of the full moon Kamar Taj party over a month ago, you begin to experience pregnancy symptoms. And you realise you could potentially be pregnant with Stephen's child.

Word count: 2.5k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of smut (18+ warning, minors DNI)

A/N: This is another little idea I thought of, I hope you like it. I will be doing a Surgeon Strange smut fic next.

You hadn’t planned it or anything. It just sort of happened. One minute you were enjoying the full moon party at Kamar Taj, and the next, you were wrapped up in Stephen Strange’s arms as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. It had all happened so fast. You knew it was wrong and bad—he was your teacher, your mentor—and you both should have known better, but you had been flirting with him since you pretty much locked eyes with him that night. He just looked so good and he hadn’t been able to take his own gaze off of you.

So, after a night of teasing smiles and lingering touches, the two of you found a corner where no one would find you, and he kissed you long and deep, his groans muffled from your soft lips. Then he got all handsy, his fingers grasping at your hips and waist before he brought you back to the sanctum where he took you and made you his.

He had been rough and fast with you, like he had been eagerly waiting for the moment when he finally got to have you. On his bed he had bent you over, taking you from behind as he slammed his cock into you, as you cried out his name, as you begged and pleaded with him to make you cum, and he did. He had your eyes rolling into the back of your head that night. You had no idea that he could make you feel like that, that he possessed that kind of skill. His experienced fingers and tongue and mouth had made you see absolute stars. He had been so big and thick and long, stretching you out and filling you up so, so good. There had been a smirk on his face the whole night, like he was absolutely loving every second of seeing you in pleasure. He had been the reason you went back to Kamar Taj that night just aching to have him take you again.

But when it was all over and done with, you and Stephen promised to never, ever talk about that night again. It was a filthy hook-up. It was a night of dirty actions and words and secrets with the both of you engaging in something that never, ever should have happened. That didn’t stop you from loving every second of it though.

But that was just over a month ago, and while you had been more than ready to keep that secret close to you, there was something that had been on your mind recently. Your period was late and there had been a handful of mornings where you woke up ready to throw up. You kept trying to tell yourself that it was nothing: that you were just a little sick and that the stress was the reason your period was late, but deep down, there was a feeling that wouldn’t go away. You couldn’t deny it: you were worried you could be pregnant with Stephen’s baby. And he was the only man you had been with, so it had to be his.

That same nausea you had been feeling for the last few days hit you as soon as you got out of bed. You had your training class today but that was the last thing on your mind as you ran to the bathroom to throw up. There was no way you could go to your class while you were on the verge of vomiting every three seconds, so you crawled back into bed with a groan.

The nagging feeling wouldn’t leave you. There was a good chance you were pregnant and you needed to know for sure, so after you felt well enough, you opened up a portal that took you right to a pharmacy to buy a test. You bought it and came back to your room, letting in and out some uneven breaths before you opened up the box. You followed the instructions and took the test before you flipped the little piece of plastic over, not quite ready to see the result. Instead, your eyes focused on your reflection as you wondered if your future was about to change forever. How could it be that everything had changed so quickly? You were supposed to be training and learning, not wondering if you were pregnant with a baby.

The word repeated over and over in your head. A baby. An actual baby. Stephen’s baby. You had been so careless that night with him, just seeking your own pleasure. But now that night felt like it was haunting you. What would Stephen think?

You shook your head. You couldn’t think about that. Your stomach was already filled with too many butterflies, and just wondering about what Stephen’s reaction would be would make it worse. There were days when he could be so cruel, so mean.

It took you about five minutes, but you finally let out a long breath and flipped the test over. You literally froze on the spot when you saw a positive sign looking back at you. The one you got gave you an estimate of when the baby had been conceived, and there it was: 6 weeks. That meant Stephen was most definitely the father, that the baby had been conceived that night.

The test fell right out of your hands as tears filled your eyes. What would Stephen’s reaction be? Angry, upset, elated, horrified? Either way, you would have to tell him, and you were terrified about how that could go. Then there was the fact that you were still very much training at Kamar Taj. You couldn’t just take time off. Would you even have time to look after a baby? Would Stephen? Would he want the baby at all?

You didn’t know what to do.

******

The day went by fast and now nighttime was upon you. You had been upset all day after taking the test and your brain wouldn’t stop reminding you that you had to tell Stephen the truth. You knew, but you were so scared of what his reaction would be. You just didn’t feel ready to tell him. Part of you was a little scared. There were times when he was quick to anger.

There was a knocking at your door and you sighed and let out a soft, “come in.”

It was Wong pushing open the door, a concerned look on his face. “Y/N, what’s going on? You’ve been missing some training sessions lately. I’m worried… Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

You sniffled. There were tears in your eyes that you hadn’t been able to hide. “Can you please just get Stephen for me? I need to talk to him.”

Wong nodded. “Of course. I’ll go get him for you.”

“Thank you,” you said, watching Wong leave.

A few minutes later, Stephen was at your door with raised eyebrows. “Wong told me you wanted me to come and talk to you.”

Wiping at your eyes, you let out a trembling breath. “Yes. You can come in. Please shut the door behind you.”

He followed your instructions and sat down next to you on the bed. “Why are you crying?”

Instant regret hit you. Why had you asked Wong to get Stephen? You still didn’t feel ready. You thought maybe ripping the band-aid off would have worked out in your favour, but there were so many butterflies in your stomach as you avoided his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” you muttered, your eyes all wet.

Stephen sighed. “Then why did you make sure Wong came and got me? You must have done that for a reason.”

You shook your head. “What’s the point? It’s not like you care, anyway.”

“Wow,” Stephen said quietly.

The room went horrifyingly quiet. So quiet it almost made you wince. You weren’t talking, Stephen wasn’t talking. The two of you sat there in pure silence and all you could do was wipe at your wet eyes.

“You know, I know I can be an asshole sometimes,” he muttered, “but at least I’m not completely heartless, Y/N. Will you just tell me why you’re so upset? There must have been a reason you called me in here, and there’s clearly something big on your mind if you’re crying. If you just told me…”

Finally, you met his eyes, and you were taken aback by the frown on his face. He looked worried. “I know you agreed that we weren’t supposed to talk about that night at the party… The night where we… You know…”

“Yeah…” Stephen murmured.

You couldn’t say it. You just grabbed the pregnancy test that you had kept tucked under the blankets and handed it to Stephen. You kept your eyes on him, taking in the pure shock on his face. He stayed quiet for a good minute or two before finally, in a shaky voice he said, “You… You’re pregnant.” He looked over at you. “With my baby?”

You nodded and you felt more tears forming. You could hear Stephen mutter out a low and deep “fuck” next to you.

“I’m really sorry,” you whispered. “This is all my—”

“You aren’t to blame for this, Y/N.”

A sharp gasp fell from your lips when you felt Stephen’s soft, warm hands on the sides of your face. He was forcing you to look at him, his eyes all soft and warm, and you couldn’t believe how gentle he had suddenly become. You also couldn’t quite believe that he had tears in his eyes. Could he be happy?

Stephen smiled at you. “Well, you being pregnant is partly my fault too.”

A smile stretched across your face before you laughed, tears rolling down your cheeks. Stephen used his thumbs to wipe at them, his touch soft and slow.

“Breathe for me,” he said. “Just take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that?”

You followed his instructions, your eyes closing as your breath slowed down to a more calm, gentle rhythm. That was helping. Sort of. But the nerves were still so ever-present and you just wanted to go back in time and fix everything.

“So, what do you want to do about this?” he asked. “I just want you to know that I will fully support your choice. Whatever choice that is.”

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a mother one day, but this is all so sudden. It’s scary and I still have to finish my training.”

“If you truly want to have this baby, then I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you and I’ll do everything I can to be the best father I can be. Being a dad wasn’t something I had ever really thought about, but I’m not afraid to try.”

You smiled at him. “Ain’t you too busy to have time to look after a baby?”

“Yes, but we’ll make it work.”

You couldn’t help it when you threw your arms around him, totally without warning. You squeezed at him as relief washed over you, a soft sigh leaving your lips. That had gone a lot better than you had expected. You could hear Stephen grunting a little as you held him.

“I know you’ll be the best dad,” you whispered. “I just know it.”

Stephen gave you a shocked sounding laugh before he finally circled his own arms around you, his hands pressed up against you tightly. “I’m glad you think so.”

Pulling away from him, you kept your hands on his shoulders. “I know so.”

Placing his hand on your thigh, Stephen gave you a comforting smile. One that made you truly feel like everything was going to be okay, that the future would be alright, and suddenly a whole less daunting. He rubbed at your thigh, the room comfortably quiet as your eyes stayed locked. A smile grew on your face simply from how sweet he was being. You loved seeing his kind, gentle side. It made your heart flutter. But then it hit you. Everyone would know you were pregnant. Very soon, you wouldn’t be able to hide it at all.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” you said. “What are we gonna do? What happens when everyone finds out? I don’t want you to get into trouble. That’s the last thing I want. Everyone’s gonna be in our business. I don’t want that either.”

He hummed, his hand still on your thigh. “I have some hoodies you can borrow as the baby grows. That should hide the bump. And if and when someone does finally find out… Well, I’ll just deal with that. I promise. Don’t stress about that. Let me handle all of that.”

“Thank you.” Leaning forward, you gave his cheek a kiss. You could have sworn his pale cheeks went a little red at the sudden act of intimacy. But he had just been so sweet, so sensitive, so caring that you couldn’t even stop yourself. You were pretty sure that you had never even seen him blush before. It felt like a bit of an accomplishment to be the first person to ever do it and the fact had your own face feeling all hot. But Stephen just looked so cute suddenly getting all nervous, and you smiled at the way his hand rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Well, I better let you get some rest then, right?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Thank you. For everything. For being so supportive and caring and kind. I really needed it.”

He smiled at you and got off the bed, making a slow walk towards your door. “You know, I’m not always an asshole. And I do care about people. I have the ability to care and I also have feelings,” he said, letting out a low chuckle.

Smiling at him, you nodded. “Noted.”

Stephen winked at you before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. You let out a long breath of air that you had been holding in for what felt like the entire conversation with Stephen. No, the entire day that gloomy feeling had been hanging over you, but that felt like it was slowly fading away by the second. You felt light, you felt happy, you felt like the future would be something good and bright instead of that darkness you had felt wash over you when you first looked at your pregnancy test in the morning.

You laid down in bed, resting your head against the pillows and letting out a long yawn. You definitely needed some rest, but there was some excitement flowing through you still. You’d be a mother and Stephen would be a father, and he’d be there for you every single step of the way, and there were definitely going to be a lot of them. And deep down, you knew Stephen would be a good dad. The best dad. The kind that would make you so proud and so happy.

You couldn’t wait.

[daydreamtofiction]

The Feature XXIV // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | First Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) After the unpleasant encounter with Faye at the museum, Quinn awaits Ben's return.

Chapter Word Count: 7.5K

Chapter Warnings: Morally-grey reader (is she even morally grey anymore? Idk. We love a good character growth arc tho), strong language, adult and sexual themes, smut including: penetrative sex, overstimulation, toys. Readers must be 18+

Join the Tag List Here*

There was a lot you could have done with the last twelve days. You could have picked up a new language, or sailed to New York and back. You could have fermented your own vodka, learned piano or guitar, watched the entire Lord of the Rings series sixteen-and-a-half times over. But you hadn’t done any of those things. In fact, for twelve days you’d barely done anything at all. 

Since the moment you’d left that museum, Faye’s words had followed you like a dark cloud, looming over you wherever you went, casting a shadow no matter how hard you tried to escape it. Your lips bore the evidence of your bad mood, bitten and raw from your relentless, anxious gnawing, and sleep had become an elusive companion, only claiming you once your body finally gave in to exhaustion. 

It angered you, the power she somehow managed to wield; how she’d so easily found a way through your hard exterior, slithering right down to the place where words could still hurt you. It felt as though you’d let her win, like your insecurity was her victory, each day you spent stewing in uncertainty just another triumph to add to her list. 

Ben’s absence hadn’t helped; the thought of his return like a buoy and a burden all at once. For almost two weeks, you’d felt a knot form in your stomach whenever he called; feeling guilt and dread where excitement should have been. You’d adorned a smile, feigned a light, warm voice, and pretended not to notice how unnatural it felt.

Social media only seemed to make it worse; what was once a harmless distraction had morphed into a minefield of footage from his premieres and press junkets. You would lose yourself in his easy charm and handsome smile, scroll endlessly through clips of him in his tailored suits and tinted sunglasses as he walked carpets and stopped for interviews. But as quickly as the pride and longing came, the doubt would soon follow.

You were caught in a relentless cycle of grief and self-criticism. The life Faye claimed you couldn’t give to him taunting you whenever you tried to picture yourself by his side. Yet, beneath the turmoil, there was an ember of stubbornness that refused to be extinguished; a flicker of determination, to spite her, to prove her wrong, to not let go of the man who’d given you no reason to doubt him.   

 The café in the Draft foyer was rarely busy; a pocket of quiet amidst the chaos of a bustling building. You stood at the counter, basking in the warm, comforting aroma of coffee, the only sounds coming from the hiss of steaming milk and the quiet chatter of baristas as they worked. You scrolled idly on your phone as you waited for your drink, thumb pausing on an image of Ben from his latest premiere. He was smiling, arm raised as he waved to the crowd of fans swarming the barriers. You instinctively found yourself zooming in on his wrist; the way your gold nameplate bracelet caught the light with a subtle glint. Then you moved to his face, the glowing tan and dark facial hair making a welcomed return. 

“You’re obsessed.” Nick’s voice startled you. 

You turned around to find him looking down at your phone with a teasing smile, a lanyard around his neck and a backpack on his shoulder.

“Shut up,” you said, pushing your phone into your back pocket.

“It’s sweet,” he said. “Don’t be embarrassed for having a fit boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest and shifting your weight from side to side. “What are you doing here? I barely ever see you in the office anymore.” 

“Just heading out to an interview, needed to come and pick up my press pass from Julia.”

You let out a half-hearted hum in response, taking your coffee as the barista placed it on the counter.

Nick followed as you made your way to a table, shifting his bag further up his shoulder. “What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” 

“Liar.” 

“I’m fine,” you insisted as you sat down.

He deliberated for a moment, like he was weighing up whether to press you or leave you be. By the time he’d sat down beside you, he’d seemingly decided to drop it, clearing his throat and excitedly shuffling his chair closer to you. 

“I’m actually glad I caught you,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” 

“Oh no, what have I done?” 

Nothing,” he laughed. “I need your advice- opinion- help, all of it really.” 

Your ears pricked, eyes fixed on him as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled in silence for a moment before finally turning the screen towards you with a nervous smile.

“Which one?” he asked. 

You leaned in, lips parting in shock when you laid your eyes on a photo; five open boxes laid out on a glass counter, each one holding a sparkling diamond ring. 

“You’re proposing!?” you shouted, voice echoing across the quiet space. 

He shushed you before lowering his tone to a whisper. “Yeah. I’ve been saving for a while, but I haven’t got a clue which one she’d like best.”

You practically snatched the phone from his hand, bringing it close to your face and examining each ring carefully. “None of them.”

“What?” 

“Well first of all, they’re all white gold. Lacey’s clearly a yellow gold person.”

“Oh.”

“Secondly, you should go for a coloured stone. Maybe morganite, emerald, sapphire, something different, unique.” 

“You think so?” 

“Definitely.”

“Right.” He sighed, taking his phone back. “Back to the drawing board then.” 

You couldn’t help the smile beginning to spread across your face, brows curving upward as you looked at him with pride. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you said.

“She hasn’t said yes yet.” 

“She will. How are you going to do it?”

“I was thinking when the next issue of Draft comes out, I’ll show her my Divine Timing piece, let her read it, and when she’s done, she’ll look up and I’ll be on one knee.” 

You didn’t reply.

“What?” he asked. “Is that not good either?”

“No, no… It’s perfect.” 

He smiled appreciatively before rising from his seat and hoisting his bag back onto his shoulder. “Yellow gold, coloured stone.” 

“Definitely.” 

He nodded and began to walk away, repeating it to himself over and over again until he vanished from your sight.

You paced the hall as you waited for a knock at the door, biting your already raw bottom lip until you began to taste iron on your tongue. The flat was immaculate. You weren’t sure why you’d bothered cleaning it so thoroughly; it wasn’t as if Ben would care, wasn’t like he’d come in and run his fingers along the skirting boards for dust, eye the windows for smudges. But maybe it was just the distraction it provided; the mundanity of housework allowing brief moments of relief from your whirring mind.

He'd been gone for three weeks. And you’d spent the majority of that time wrought with uncertainty; playing over every possible scenario, talking aloud to practice what you would say to him when you finally came face to face again. You’d buzzed him in just seconds ago, and as you paced back and forth you could almost picture him rushing up the stairwell, growing closer with every tick of the watch on your wrist. 

When the knock finally came, you felt your heart leap into your throat, an undeniable wave of excitement flooding your stomach. You hurried to the door and swung it open, unable to hold back a smile when you saw him standing there; bearded and sun kissed, an almost mirror image of the Ben you’d first met. 

“Hi,” he said, his voice rough and tired, yet still warm. And before you could reply, he dropped his bag to the ground, taking a step forward and pulling you into a tight embrace. He groaned with relief as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured. 

You couldn’t help but melt into him, taking in his scent that, even after hours of travel, was still so familiar and comforting, the rhythmic thudding of his heart as you pressed your ear to his chest.  

“I missed you too,” you replied. 

“I’m never going that long without you again. Next time you’re coming, no arguments.”

A soft chuckle bubbled up your throat, the sound muffled by his shirt. You lifted your head to look at him. “Next time is three days from now.” 

“Yeah, and you’re coming.” 

You laughed again as he leaned back slightly to look down at you, bringing his hands up to cup your face, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks. His gaze glittered with affection, flitting between your eyes and lips with such longing that any insecurities you’d had almost seemed to vanish. You lifted your chin slightly, welcoming the inevitable kiss. And when it finally came, you gave in to it completely. 

His lips were soft as they moved slowly over yours, savouring the connection like he’d thought of nothing else for the past three weeks. You slid your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck, leaning into him as he weaved his fingers through your hair. 

“You need to come in so I can shut the door,” you mumbled. “Someone could walk past.” 

He responded by reaching back and pushing the front door closed, keeping his focus on you the entire time as his lips trailed softly over your cheeks, your jaw, the outer corners of your eyes and the crinkle between your brows, kissing every small detail of your face. 

You smiled. “Did you come straight from the airport?”

“Mhm.” 

“You must be exhausted.”

He responded with another lazy hum as he began walking you backwards down the hall. 

“I put a towel out for you in the bathroom,” you said. “Even bought you your own shower gel.” 

“Really?” 

“Mm,” you replied as he continued to kiss you. “And I’ve got dinner on in the kitchen.”

He stopped, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously.

“I’m the real Quinn I swear,” you said sarcastically.

He gave a deep chuckle, stroking your hair away from your face and placing one last kiss on your lips. “A shower does sound quite appealing right now. Do you want to join me?”

You tilted your head, giving a soft smile and running your fingertip over his bottom lip. “I’ve got stuff on the hob, need to keep an eye on it so the flat doesn’t burn down.” 

There was a split second when you could have sworn you saw him pause, like he was going to question you but quickly changed his mind. Instead, he let you go, making his way to the bathroom as you wandered into the kitchen, pressing your cool palms to your flushed cheeks and exhaling a nervous breath. 

Your knees buckled when you saw him in the doorway; towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water speckled over his bare chest and shoulders. A clean, masculine scent drifted towards you, heady and intoxicating, making your mind turn foggy as you stared at him in awe.

He made his way into the kitchen, padding leisurely towards you as you stood at the stove. You felt his hands snake around your waist, resting on your hips as his chest pressed against your back.

“You’re getting me wet,” you said with a slight giggle.

“Hm,” he replied flirtatiously, leaning down to press his lips to your neck. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.” 

“No, wet like wet.” You laughed, gesturing to the water he’d soaked into the back of your t-shirt. 

“I’m just teasing,” he replied, lips moving slowly to the back of your shoulder. 

You lifted the lid off a saucepan, waiting for the steam to evaporate before stirring the bubbling liquid inside. You could feel him, hot and hard against your back, tilting your head to one side to grant him easier access to you. His large hands gripped your hips as he nipped and kissed your neck, lips and teeth grazing over your pulse as his wet hair brushed against your cheek. 

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, fighting to remain composed, to ignore the tingles travelling up your spine and the desire throbbing between your legs. You tried to busy yourself with dinner, reaching to the cupboard above you and peering inside. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked between kisses. 

“The erm…” You’d lost your train of thought, your mind hazy, struggling to focus on anything but the feeling of him behind you. “Er… Salt. Salt and…” 

He reached over you, retrieving the salt and pepper shakers and placing them on the counter.

“Thank you,” you said, almost breathlessly. 

His kisses slowed, like the tension in your body was becoming impossible for him to ignore. He pulled back, just enough to peer down at you, brow furrowed with concern. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked. 

“Hm? Nothing.”

His hands moved up to your waist, turning you around to face him. “What’s wrong?” 

You didn’t know why you were trying to deflect, why after all this time, when faced with the chance to communicate, your instincts still forced you to shut it down. “Why would something be wrong?”

“Because if nothing was wrong, you’d have dragged me into that bedroom the second I stepped through the door…” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Quinn,” he pressed. “Talk to me.” 

“I’m fine.”

He stared down at you for a moment, his expression completely unconvinced. You wriggled gently out of his grasp, walking over to the sink and grabbing a knife from the draining board.

“You don’t seem fine,” he said. 

“Well, I am,” you replied bluntly, turning around with the knife firmly in your grasp.

He held his hands up in feigned surrender. “Alright, Jesus Christ.” 

“It’s for garlic,” you replied with another eye roll, making your way back over to the counter beside him.

“Quinn,” he said with a slight laugh of disbelief. “Something’s clearly wrong. I don’t understand why you don’t feel like you can talk to me-”

“Ben.”

“I just want to know what happened-”

“Your ex-wife happened,” you snapped. “Alright?” 

 He looked confused, nose scrunched as his eyes glazed over, just for a moment. “What?” 

You put down the knife, turning to face him with a hot sigh. “I ran into her at an event.” 

“Faye?”

“Do you have more ex-wives?”

He huffed, gesturing for you to continue. 

“I ran into her and she had some very… choice words for me. Some I don’t entirely disagree with.” 

“Like what?”

“Like we’re… not- Like this isn’t-” you huffed and turned to walk away. “Y’know what, it doesn’t matter-”

“Yes, it does,” he said firmly, grabbing your arm before you could leave the room. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously bothered you enough to make it hard to even look at me right now. So, you need to tell me. Now.”

You yielded, turning around and leaning back against the fridge, arms folded across your chest. You hadn’t even realised you’d been avoiding his gaze until you found yourself staring at the floor. So, you forced yourself to look up at him. 

“She said we’re not equal. Me and you. And that we never will be.” You swallowed. “I bring nothing to the table financially, we’re not in the same place in life or career or aspirations. I’m just a bit of fun you’re messing around with instead of-”

“Instead of what?” he replied, anger darkening his tone. “Instead of staying in a PR marriage just to pacify everyone else except myself?” 

“She insinuated that you’re just ‘getting things out of your system’ with me, and once the novelty wears off, you’ll realise I’m not right for you and you’ll move on to someone who is.”

His jaw sharpened, throat bobbing as he tried to swallow down his rage. He planted a hand on the counter beside him, grounding himself as he tried to process your words. “When was this?” he asked calmly. “Where?”

“An exhibition at the fashion museum, a couple of days after you left.”

He blinked a few times. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would it have achieved?” You shrugged. “You were on the other side of the world for work. It would have just bothered you, ruined your time out there.” 

He exhaled heavily through his nose, the breath rattling like a growl as it left him. “You know this all stems from jealousy on her part, don’t you?”

You didn’t respond, making him look over at you with more intensity, his brows coming together as he took in the look on your face. 

“Quinn… You know that, right?”

I don’t know. Some of the things she said, I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking that maybe she had somewhat of a point…” 

“What else did she say?” 

“Ben,” you sighed, closing your eyes and running your hands through your hair. 

“Quinn,” he said sternly. “In this relationship, we communicate.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” 

He glared at you.   

You threw your head back dramatically, letting out a groan before looking back over at him. “It’s just… It’s what I’ve already told you; we’re not compatible, economically or aspiration-wise or-”

“What does that even mean?”

“That you’re rich and I’m poor,” you replied curtly.

“Not that, for fuck sake, the aspiration thing.” 

You could feel yourself clamming up, your mouth turning dry and cheeks flushing with discomfort. You shifted on your feet, biting another cut into your lip. “Well, she just- She made a good point that you are… Very certain of what you want. And if you continue to waste your time with me, if I continue to let you waste your time with me, I could be holding you back from getting it.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” He was growing irate again, his voice deepening, turning hoarse and firm.

“Well, no, it’s not really, is it.”

“Yes. It is.”

“No, it’s not, Ben! It’s not irrational of me to be concerned that a year, two years, however long down the line, you could look back and realise you spent all that time with me when you could have been out there meeting your soulmate, your next wife, the mother of your children!” 

He stared at you, open-mouthed for a moment, his face twisted in a mixture of ire and confusion. Eventually, it seemed to overwhelm him, making him drop his head with a frustrated huff, pressing the heels of his hands into closed eyes. 

“Why…” he began slowly, controlling his words as they left him in a deep, gravelly voice. “Is it not at all possible that… that person could be you…?” 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Ben-”

“What!? Why can’t you consider the fact that maybe neither of us are wasting our time, because we’re supposed to be spending it with each other!?” 

“Oh my god, it’s just so easy for you, isn’t it!” You threw your arms up dramatically. “Sometimes feelings just aren’t enough. You can’t enter into a relationship without at least considering where that relationship might end up.” 

“This is never going to stop, is it?” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “No matter what I do, what I say, you are never going to believe that this could work.” 

“I want to,” you replied, caught off guard by a crack in your voice. “But when Faye said that you want things I might not be able to give you, I couldn’t-”

“Quinn. The first night we slept together, you told me, plain as day, that you were undecided about having children. I’ve known that since the beginning, never forgotten it, and I still chose to pursue you. Because I love you more than I love some kids that we may or may not have.” 

“It’s not just about having kids. It’s… She said I’d be dooming myself to a life as an extension of you. That I’d be a ‘kept woman’.”

His face broke with an unexpected smile, a laugh escaping him in a breath. “I can just about handle you as it is. Do you really think you’d ever let yourself be kept?” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just so simple for you, isn’t it.” 

“Yes.” He turned his body to lean back against the counter, mirroring your crossed arms. “So, it’s me who buys the house.” He shrugged. “As long as I get to wake up next to you in it every morning, I’d consider us even.” 

The charm of his suggestion made you melt, just for a moment, before quickly stiffening again. “But that’s not ‘even’, Ben. Not really. You deserve someone who fits seamlessly into your life, and I just can’t shake the fear that they’re out there, and they’re perfect for you. I would never forgive myself if I held you back from finding her.” 

“And what does this ‘perfect woman’ consist of?”

“She’s certain she wants a family. She’s perfectly content with the two of you being known as ‘Benedict Cumberbatch and wife’. She comes from wealth, has the money to treat you to nice champagne and expensive gifts. She doesn’t pick fights or think it’s funny to make you jealous. She…” You halted, feeling a sudden, unexpected lump in your throat, a fizzing in your nose and welling in your eyes. “She doesn’t push you away when you’re always so lovely and patient with her. She’s a good person who really, truly deserves you.”

He remained quiet, mulling over your words, eyes fixed on the emotion you were so desperately trying to hold back.

“Can I tell you what I think this perfect woman consists of?” he asked softly. 

You nodded. 

“She’s open to maybe having a family one day. She may sometimes be ‘and wife’ to the media, but in reality, we both know it’s me who’s the ‘and husband’. She doesn’t care about money or whether she has it or not, and she always makes sure to tell me off when she thinks I’ve overspent. She’s… Impossible, infuriating, combative, but she knows I can take it. And that maybe I find it a bit sexy.” 

You laughed softly. 

“She’s a good person,” he continued, emphasising his words. “Who deserves whatever it is she desires. And if that’s me, then I consider myself lucky.” 

You stared at him from across the small kitchen, glassy-eyed and entirely awestruck. It was quiet, the air between you so still that even your breath seemed out of place. 

“I love you,” you whispered. 

He paused, allowing the words to fully sink in before smiling softly. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked teasingly. 

“I love you.”

His smile turned to a grin. “One more time, I didn’t quite catch it.” 

You rolled your eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. 

He made his way towards you, taking your face in his hands and tilting it back to look up at him. “I love you too,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. “And I can’t believe I just had that entire conversation with you in nothing but a towel.” 

You chuckled.

His expression turned serious again as he stared down into your eyes. “I have doubts too. Sometimes I feel like I’ve come into your life and completely turned it upside down; put rules on you, restrictions, expectations. You never asked for any of that. But then… I think about how we got off to such a bad start when we met, yet still, we somehow ended up here. That’s got to mean something.” 

“It means you’re too nice and I don’t take no for an answer.” 

He laughed, running his fingers through your hair. “It means we’d be stupid to throw this away.” 

You smiled, rising onto your toes to kiss him. He held you close, inhaling deeply as his lips moved slowly against yours.

He broke away, looking down at you with an amused smirk. “You know, for someone who doesn’t take shit from anybody, you really let my jealous ex-wife get into your head.”

“It’s not Faye that’s got into my head. It’s you.” You shook your head as you gazed up at him, your voice nothing but a whisper as you spoke again. “I’ve never let anyone get this close to me before…” 

“Well, I’m honoured to be the one you decided to let in.” 

This vulnerability was new for you. It made you feel fragile, exposed, like a knight without armour, a porcupine without its quills. Until Ben, you’d simply assumed it wasn’t in your nature to take this role; to be tender, maybe even soppy, softening yourself completely and trusting him to hold you without crushing you in his fists. You’d never let anyone take the lead, never allowed yourself to be coddled, doted on, handled with such reverence that you felt no desire to fight it. 

Perhaps you’d been capable of it all along; could have opened yourself up to anyone who’d came before him and felt a connection just as strong. Or maybe this part of you had always been reserved especially for him; a locked door that only he had the key to. You would never know for sure. But you were okay with that. 

Ben’s thumb gently caressed your cheek, his lips grazing the side of your head in a sequence of slow, loving kisses. You smiled and leaned back slightly to look up at him. 

“Okay, this is getting sappy now,” you muttered teasingly as you pulled him down to kiss you. 

He chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling in his throat and humming softly against your lips.

“Go and get dressed,” you said. “I’ll finish dinner.”

“Okay,” he replied with a smile. 

You watched as he made his way towards the door, before turning back to look at you, the smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” you asked with a breathy laugh.

“That was a very grown-up fight we just had.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned towards the stove. “It wasn’t a fight. It was a heated discussion.”

He laughed, the sound disappearing with him down the hall. 

A quiz show played quietly on the TV, the sun casting a golden hue across the living room as you sat cross-legged on the couch. There was a cushion in your lap, shielding your legs from the piping hot bowl, and a glass of water on the coffee table just out of reach. Ben was sitting beside you, leaning forward as he ate, handing you your drink every time you asked without complaint. 

You listened as he told you about his time away; the funny posters fans held up in the crowd, how he almost missed a premiere when his driver took a wrong turn, and the coffee he spilled on himself before his flight had even taken off. When he asked you how your time alone had been, you couldn’t help but feel boring in comparison; writing, grocery shopping, a few work meetings you barely paid attention to. 

“Oh,” you said, swallowing a mouthful of food before continuing. “My friend Nick’s proposing to his girlfriend.” 

“Ah how lovely. Tonight?” 

“No. Soon, though. I helped him pick the ring.”

Ben eyed your smile, unable to hide his own amusement. “Have they been together long?”

“A few years, I think. Why?”

He gave a casual shrug, still smiling. “No reason.” 

 You paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t be getting any ideas.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. It took a battle just to get you to wear that watch, can you imagine if I tried to give you a ring?” 

You looked down at the watch and rolled your eyes before trying to reach for your water. He handed it to you with a chuckle, taking another bite of his food as he waited for you to take a sip and hand it back.

The TV continued to play in the background, the sound of audience applause and laughter like a gentle hum softening the silence. 

“You know,” he mused. “I never thought I’d see the day when you actually wore it.” 

You looked down at the watch again, shrugging with feigned nonchalance. “It seemed a shame to just leave it sitting there. I did contemplate taking it off after what happened with Faye. But I like the compliments too much.” 

He laughed and went back to his dinner, the pair of you falling back into easy conversation. It was another moment where you found it easy to forget his fame, how absurd it was to have a celebrity sitting on your couch eating rice and dal from your mismatched dinnerware.

The sun was beginning to set, the living room glowing with a deep, golden hue like the promise of a warm evening. You were laying alone on the couch, speaking aloud your answers to another quiz show and swearing to yourself whenever you got them wrong. You could hear Ben singing in the other room, the sound of clinking ceramic and running water punctuating the dulcet tone of his voice. 

You stretched lazily and rose to your feet, wandering out of the living room and through the doorway of the kitchen. He was standing at the sink with his back to you, broad shoulders moving slightly as he scrubbed at the pots and pans beneath the soapy water. You allowed yourself a moment to just watch him; comfortable clothes and bare feet, singing a song that was too high for his voice and not caring if you could hear him. 

You wandered over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his back. He stilled for a moment at your unexpected touch, before relaxing quickly and continuing to wash up.

“Well, this is new,” he said. “Usually I’m the one ambushing you with affection.”

You sighed contentedly, tightening your hold on him. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Of course not.” He rinsed off a pot and placed it on the draining board, glancing over his shoulder as he reached for a tea towel to dry his hands. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. I’m just soaking up the fact that you’re actually here and not on FaceTime halfway across the world.”  

He turned around with a smile and pulled you closer to him. “I missed you too, darling.” 

Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip, which you tried to disguise by biting your already cracked, tender bottom lip. 

He brought his thumb up to it, gently releasing it from your teeth. “Stop biting,” he said softly.

“Sorry, it’s a nervous thing.” 

“I make you nervous?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, breathing out a laugh as you brought your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. He reciprocated eagerly with a satisfied groan, letting his hands roam your body until his grip finally found your backside.

You leaned into him, pressing yourself flush against his body as you swept your tongue into his mouth. The energy between you began to pulse, turning hot and electric; making your skin tingle, the hairs on your arms stand on end. You reached back and grabbed one of his hands, taking a step back and leading him towards the door. 

The air was cooler in the bedroom, the thick curtains shielding the space from the glowing sun. You pulled him towards the bed, turning him around and pushing him onto it with unabashed haste. He propped himself up on his elbows as you straddled him, his lips finding yours again in a quicker, hungrier kiss.

You gripped the hem of his t-shirt and dragged it over his head, tossing it aside as your lips moved to his neck, his collarbones and the bare, slightly paler skin of his chest. He smelled like the soap you’d bought him, the clean, masculine scent enveloping you as he held you in his arms. It smelled different on him than it had in the bottle; earthier, manlier, evoking something carnal inside you that made you want to dive in without coming up for air.

His hands dipped beneath your top, fingers grazing the ticklish spots over your ribs, nails raking gently down your sides. You shivered as your skin puckered with goosebumps, the sensation rolling down your body and settling between your legs with a tingling, insatiable need. It made you squirm, searching for friction as you continued to lay kisses across his chest.

He lifted the top over your head before brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen into your face, pausing for just a moment to look at you.    

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you,” you said.

He smiled. “I was just going to say I love you.” 

You leaned forward, kissing him slowly, deeply, rocking your hips over the hard bulge in his jogging bottoms. “I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips.

He let himself fall back completely, surrendering himself to you as you returned your mouth to his chest, trailing down his torso towards his waistband. You could feel him tense beneath your lips, muscles hardening, rolling beneath soft skin with even the slightest movement. But then he stopped. 

“Hold on,” he said. 

You lifted your head to see him reaching for something beneath your pillows, watching as he pulled out a small vibrator and turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you expect me to do when you’re gone?” you asked.

“Pine after me longingly, while awaiting my return in perfect chastity,” he replied sarcastically.

You scoffed and climbed off him. “Take off your pants.” 

He did as you instructed, his eyes never leaving you as you stripped down to your underwear. You wished you’d thought ahead when you got dressed this morning and worn nicer lingerie, or at the very least, made sure your bra matched your knickers. But Ben didn’t seem to care, his gaze ravenous as it raked over you, following your every move until you were back on top of him.

You ran your finger over the tan line at the base of his throat, preparing to tease him for it. But before any words could leave you, he placed a hand on the back of your head and pulled you down to kiss him, his hot breath and skilled tongue turning your mind hazy, the desire to say something funny or sarcastic evaporating from you like steam. He was growing impatient, you could feel it in the way he rolled his hips beneath you, his erection pressing against your aching centre, begging to be released.

You reached back and unclasped your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms, the cups falling away from your chest. He wasted no time in taking your breasts in his large palms, kneading them gently, fingers pinching your hard, tight nipples until the sensation made you gasp. He shifted slightly, sitting up just enough to lean back against the headboard, bringing his mouth to each nipple as his hand caressed the other. It was electric, each flick of his tongue or squeeze of his fingers sending a jolt of lightning through your stomach. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, rocking against his hard length as you tried to quell the throbbing in your clit, the deep, insatiable need in your core. 

“Say you’ll come with me on the next press tour,” he whispered, hands travelling from your breasts over your stomach.    

“It’s in three days, how can I just up and leave? I don’t even know where you’re going-”

“Los Angeles, then New York, then Los Angeles again,” he said, his voice seductively low, fingers making it to the waistline of your underwear. “But nothing’s stopping us from taking a detour or two; we could fly to Mexico for a few days, or maybe Argentina, Colombia, Brazil-”

“Okay I get the picture,” you said breathlessly as he slipped his hand into your underwear, fingertips finally making contact with your centre.    

“Is that a yes?” 

You let out a moan as he began to massage your clit, making you shudder and grip the headboard above him to steady yourself. 

You’d gotten on top of him with the intention of being in charge, of taking the lead. But somehow here you were, straddling him yet still completely at his mercy. The extent of your arousal was undeniable as he slid his fingers along your hot, wet entrance, the discovery making him groan with a mixture of pride and desire. He bucked against you, and you responded by reaching down to release him from his underwear, as though the idea of foreplay hadn’t even crossed your mind, or you were simply too horny to care.

His cock sprung free against your stomach and you gripped it firmly in your hand. “If I agree to come, will you make it worth my while?”

His breath hitched, eyes darkening as he gazed up at you. “Anything you want,” he whispered. “It’s yours.” 

You smiled, stroking him lazily as you spoke. “I want you.”

“Then you’ve got me.” He ran his hand slowly up your body, over your stomach and between your breasts, his palm finally settling at the base of your throat. “Every free moment.” He curled his fingers around your neck. “Every spare second.” 

You paused for a moment, revelling in the depth of his voice, the pressure of his fingertips against your pulse and the way his hips rolled to meet the relaxed rhythm of your hand. When you leaned forward to kiss him, he responded with a soft growl against your lips, tightening his grip on your throat as you slid your underwear aside and positioned him at your entrance. 

You slid him into you with a sigh, releasing every ounce of fear and uncertainty you’d been holding onto in his absence, the connection so beautiful it was hard to believe you’d ever doubted it at all. 

“Fuck,” you whispered as your hand immediately found the headboard above him, holding onto it as you began to move, sinking down to the root of his length and grinding against him. 

The friction was intense, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs as he filled you. He was motionless beneath you; letting you set the pace, the angle, the depth. But his hand remained on your neck, like an anchor, a reminder that he had you exactly where he wanted you.

You kept a grip of the headboard, your other hand planted on his chest as you rocked your hips, revelling in each wave of pleasure as it rippled through your core, the tingly, electric buzz coursing beneath your skin. He kept his eyes on you, watching your face closely, your fluttering lids and parted lips, undeniable evidence of your satisfaction. 

“Tell me you love me again,” he groaned.

You lowered your gaze to meet his with a slight smile, and for a moment you thought about teasing him, denying his request and making him beg for it. But the feeling of him inside you was too pervading, disabling your sarcasm and stealing your wit, leaving you soft and agreeable, like putty in his hands.

“I love you,” you replied breathlessly.

Your words seemed to fuel him, making him bring his other hand up to double his grip of your throat. You whimpered as he began to move, every firm jolt sending a shudder through your stomach and a shiver up your spine. You began to bounce slightly, your moans growing louder as you met each hard thrust, ignoring the burning in your thighs and the creak of the bedframe beneath him.

Your voice echoed through the room, a cacophony of moans and swear words, gasps and increasingly enthusiastic yeses. You would no doubt be apologising to your downstairs neighbours tomorrow. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if the building across the street demanded one too.

There was a familiar swelling of heat in your core, your stomach coiling, driving you to move faster in search of release. But Ben got there first, his hips stuttering as he let out a deep, guttural groan, burying himself inside you as he came. 

You slowed your movements to a lazy grind, leaning back slightly to catch your breath when a dull buzzing caught your attention. You looked down to see him holding your vibrator, clicking the button a few times before placing it gently on your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation; the unexpected act that caught you completely off guard. 

 “Oh, god.” You could barely speak, stuttering out the words through a serrated breath.

He watched you closely, adjusting his placement until your mouth fell open, stomach muscles tensing as you grabbed his thighs for support. The device sucked and pulsed against your clit, making you squirm on his cock as your limbs began to shake. The world around you seemed to disappear, like nothing else existed beyond the pleasure dancing along your nerves, like the entire universe had somehow been condensed into the tiny bundle between your legs.  

You shuddered; eyes screwed shut as you let out a deep, heavy groan. For a moment you couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, every last speck of energy spent on the orgasm ripping through you. And as quickly as the pleasure peaked, it instantly turned to pain, your clit so sensitive that all you could think to do was push Ben’s hand away. 

He switched off the vibrator and tossed it aside, gazing up at you with a satisfied smirk as you shook uncontrollably on top of him. Your teeth were chattering, limbs gooey and barely functioning. 

“You’re a fucker,” you said, breathing out a stunned laugh.

He chuckled softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of your face. 

You tried to calm yourself, inhaling slowly through your nose and blowing it out in shaky, uneven breaths.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I can’t move.”

He laughed again before gently rolling you off him and turning on his side to face you. 

You nestled yourself into him, eyelids heavy as you traced swirls over his bare chest with your fingertips. 

“I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to compete with that thing,” he said, gesturing in the direction he’d thrown the vibrator.

You giggled. “Well, that thing can’t kiss me, or manhandle me, or tell me it loves me. So, I think you’re fine.”

He closed his eyes with a sleepy smile. “In that case, feel free to stick it in your suitcase and bring it with us.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “If you’re expecting me to follow you around America for two weeks, then I expect youto make sure I don’t need a vibrator…”

He opened one eye. “Is that an ultimatum?”

“It’s more of a condition.”

“A condition?” 

“Mhm. If I’m going to be sneaking around, cooped up in hotel rooms all on my own while you’re working, then there needs to be… perks.” You let your fingers run further down his chest and over his stomach, making him tense beneath you. 

He chuckled and grabbed your wrist before your hand could dip any lower, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them gently. “Darling, if you come with me, I’ll be certain to make sure you forget that thing even exists.”

You smiled, watching as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “How long before the jet lag sets in?” 

“No idea. I’m just praying I can get through tomorrow before it does.” 

“Why? What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m taking my parents to the Chelsea Flower Show.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

He shifted even closer to you, draping an arm over the top of your head and twirling your hair between his fingers. “I was actually meaning to speak to you about it… I’d really like it if you came too.” 

You stilled for a moment, before forcing yourself to relax. “How could I possibly look them in the eye after what I just did with their son?”

He gave a soft, throaty laugh. ��I’m sure you’ll manage.” 

The air between you fell silent, and you knew he could sense your apprehension, the same way you could tell he wasn’t going to drop it. 

“It’s just a bit soon, don’t you think?” you finally said. “Shouldn’t we wait a while before meeting-”

“I met your parents. Ages ago.”

“Yeah, by accident.” 

“Quinn.” He exhaled a laugh, brushing his nose against the side of your head before placing a kiss there. “I’d really like you to come. No pressure, no expectations, I just want them to meet the woman I’ve been telling them about.” 

“You’ve been telling them about me?”

He nodded. “I left out a lot.”

*Tag List: @blondekel77 @evelynrosestuff @bakerstreethound @annesthaeticc @aephereal @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sherlux @veryladyqueen @graciebear47 @allurenia @jamerlynn @cottagecore-cat @aysamuka @thegardenerofeden @cumbercatchmebaby @inspirationalandrandom @turkisherlockian @swds @weepingdreamerpanda @elzabethann @childofgod215 @briecantopme @lovecleastrange @jaspearl31 @paola-carter @greatburger @azu21 @xourownsidee @hunterofshadows04 @asgardianprincess1050 @teddycrimson @sherlocksgirl91 @oliveoilthoughts @hai-kbai @shjl15 @bloodyxsaint @charleighsblog @stephenstrangeaddictions @omgstarks @sleutherclaw @bisciwri @theevilsupreme @gwoods123 @classickook @coffee-d0t @strangeobsessed @januarycolor @strangeions @lonadane @downtownshabby

[alexendria-rose]

I have a request

Can we see a submissive Stephen Strange story?

Like what you see?~

Stephen Strange X Reader

Warnings: PURE SMUT!! UNHOLY anyways; p in v, choking, sub Stephen with a hint of dom him, cock sucking, cussing.

Summary: Stephen comes back whining about work, and Y/n has the perfect idea to forget why he was whining in the first place-well whining about that certain situation...

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Did I ever mention how much I loath Thanos?” Stephen huffs walking into their shared room at the Sanctum. Y/n looks up from her book to look at Stephen eyebrows knit together.

“My love, I think everyone hates him.” She laughs softly placing the book down on the side table before criss crossing her legs on the bed.

“Yeah but I really hate him, wong as sorcerer supreme! That was my spot.” He says plopping himself on his lovely girlfriend’s lap. Y/n rolls her eyes playing with his hair making sure not to mess it up so much.

“So you’re mad at Thanos because of that?” She just giggled leaning back against the bed. He looks up at her with puppy dog eyes.

“Yes.” He states his eyes fluttering close as she massages his head. Y/n laughed softly.

“Oh poor baby, I’m so sorry the blip affected you getting sorcerer supreme.” She fake pouted, Stephen sees right through that groaning and rolling his eyes.

“I don’t feel comforted.” He mumbles moving his eyes away from her as he pouts. Oh people would absolutely died laughing if they found out how soft Stephen was in front of her.

"Oh do you want to feel comforted? I have a few ideas in mind." She says softly tracing his lips a small smirk planted on her face. Stephen grins moving his hand to trace her wrist.

"I do like the sound of that." He mumbles his eyes never leaving hers. She bites her lower lip leaning foreword before capturing his lips with hers in a heated passion. He groans from the taste of her lips a slight whimper escaping his mouth. Y/n just smirks against his lips moving her hands to cup his cheeks, moving her body to straddle him instead- his back against the bed. He goes to grip her hips, she pulls back from the kiss grabbing his wrist.

"Nope, I didn't say you can touch me sweetheart." She smirks, his eyes widen at her comment, feeling himself get a hard at her words. She quirks an eyebrow at him, the smirk never leaving her face. "Oh are you excited for me Mr. Strange?" He takes a shattered breath nodding his head slowly.

"I need you, really badly." He was able to choke out. Her hands making its way down to his shirt(luckily he wasn't wearing his normal outfit) she brushes her fingers teasingly against his skin noticing his breath hitching at the contact. She pulls his shirt off, watching his chest rise and fall. She connects her lips on his chest his breath wavering slightly as she moves her lips down near his lower stomach just above his pants. "F-Fuck." He gasped out, she knew he was sensitive right here so she drew it out more by creating love bites on his lower stomach. He wanted to grip her hair so bad, but also wanted to obey her by not touching her, letting her work her magic on him. She slowly unbuttons his jeans before sliding them down his legs. She looked down at the bulge begging to come out of his boxers.

"Awh look at you, its basically begging me." She taunts flicking her tongue. He swallows hard his Adams apple bobbing.

"Please, I need you." He begs his eyes begging and full of want. She moves her hands to his underwear band before pulling them off, his cock flinging out as soon as she does. She could basically already see the pre-cum leaking out. She just smiled moving her head down, her eyes never leaving his.

"I give you permission to touch my head but that's it." She murmurs before using her mouth to take him whole. He brings his hands to her hair gripping on it softly but his body shuddered under her; his hips slightly bucking at the wetness of her mouth.

"F-Fuck." He sputters his mouth going dry from the way he kept his mouth opened. He whimpered lightly at the way she swirled her tongue around his length and the way she hollowed her cheeks in. She began to move her head up and down his length to create more friction. He groaned and moaned loudly at the way she took him with such ease and grace. He felt himself so close to the edge his grip on her hair tugging on it harder, instead she pulls her head back wiping her mouth, he whined at the lost of contact. She just chuckles.

"Mr. Strange be patient. Don't you want to cum in me?" She smirked standing up from the bed removing her shirt and pants revealing her lace bra and underwear knowing this was most likely going to happen. His eyes move up and down her body, his eyes never leaving out a inch of it. "You like what you see?" She taunts crawling on top of him. He just nods watching the way she crawled back on top of him. "Well since you like it so much-" She moves her panties off to the side before sliding herself down onto his cock. He groaned his head rolling back as his hips bucked up which let out a moan out of her lips.

"F-Fuck so perfect." He choked out, his eyes traveling back to her chest, the push up in the bra making her breast look fantastic to view. God lace looked so good on her- he thought. She just grinned adjusting to his length before moving her hips and down. His moans and whimpers becoming louder. "G-God oh my fuck." He grunts out his eyes rolling back at the way she felt so good to him, wet and tight just for him.

"See? Who would want to cum in a mouth, when you've got this tight pussy just for you." She says dissolving herself in the pleasure fluttering her eyes close as soft moans escape her lips.

"S-Shit Y/n." He moves his hands to her hips gripping on them so tightly his hands turn white from the grip. She chuckles not moving his hands knowing herself she enjoyed the touch. She moves her hands down to his throat her hands wrapping around it softly, as she started moving her hips faster.

"Fuck me like I'm the only pussy you want." She moans out as soon as those words left her mouth, his grip on her hips tightens before thrusting himself up in her deeper groaning every time he hit her G-spot. She gasped out at him hitting just the right spot, the sound of slapping skin bouncing off the walls. She feels herself tighten around him-very close to her edge.

"C-Can I cum, please?" He begs his eyes gazing at hers, she bites her lip to stop the whimpers coming out seeing Stephen this sub and soft in front of her made her so weak and her pussy tighten as she thought about it.

"F-Fuck." She whimpers out nodding out a quick yes. He moves his hips faster until he reaches his climax, her following swiftly feeling his warm seed enter her, his body shaking and shuddering underneath her. She rides out his orgasm before removing herself off of him flopping herself next to him, feeling her legs just shake slightly. She hears him chuckle deeply.

"Wow." He murmurs out turning his body to face her propping his elbow up before resting his hand on his palm, his eyes traveling up and down her body. She just smiles brightly.

"Your such a good boy." She smirks winking at him. He growls lowly.

"Keep it up baby girl, and I'll show you who can also be such a little sub." He smirk moving his hand to smack her ass. She gasped at the contact whining softly. "Exactly my point." He lifts her chin with his index finger. "Now I won't say I didn't enjoy that, but you are the only living soul that can know that." She gulps lightly nodding, the dominance slowly fading away. He smirks' lightly.

"Good girl."

[geeky-politics-46]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 6

Sex Tape with Doctor Stephen Strange

"A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You are feeling self-concious & down on your appearance, but Stephen has an unconventional idea of how to make you realize how sexy & beautiful you really are.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - body image issues, voyeurism & exhibitionism via photo & video, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, oral sex, creampie, vaginal sex, slight daddy kink, a bit of fluff & a little angst.

You weren't even sure what had triggered your self-image issues at the moment. Honest to God, you were just sitting in bed watching a YouTube video, pursuing the sidebar recommended videos when you started comparing yourself to other people.

It didn't matter if it was just a random ad or a promo for a TV show. You started sizing yourself up to all the actresses, models, and even some normal people. No matter who it was, you felt you couldn't compare.

Your stomach was too big. Your butt was too small. You were too short. Too plain looking. Hell, sometimes you weren't even sure how you compared to average. You didn't think you were hideous, but you forever felt like the ugly duckling. Like the potential to be beautiful was there. It just never blossomed. Or, like you sabotaged being pretty by not having enough restraint to eat better or lose weight. 

For once in your life, you wanted to be the bombshell. You were too weird to be the girl next door. You always fell into the quirky/cute and funny category. People fell for you once they got to know your personality, but you knew that never once had you stopped a guy dead in his tracks across the room. 

In an effort to make yourself feel smaller, you dug around for your massive old sweatshirt. The one you wore whenever you were feeling sad. The material had piled up in places, and it was starting to get holes in others, but the super stretchy material still felt just as big and cozy as if it was brand new. The dark eggplant purple color was also somehow soothing compared to the mostly blacks and grays of your daily wardrobe.

You had settled back in, deep in your own thoughts, when your partner entered the bedroom. You had been with Doctor Stephen Strange for a while now. Long enough that you had more or less informally moved into the Sanctum. You got to spend more time with Stephen and didn't have to pay rent. It was a win-win. The only downside was that you couldn't hide from him when your inner demons reared up. 

You didn't even realize he had been talking to you as he changed out of his sorcerer's robes and into his sweats for bed. It wasn't until he sat down in front of you and lifted your chin up to look directly at him that you realized you weren't paying any attention to a thing he was saying. 

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

You hated the genuine concern on his face. He spent his days literally saving the universe, and here you were trapped inside your own spiraling thoughts. 

"Nothing is wrong."

You said it while staring down at your hands. You were never good at hiding things from Stephen when you were face to face.

"Even if I wasn't a brilliant doctor, MD, and PhD, I know that's your 'I'm sad' sweatshirt. So something is definitely wrong." 

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to jiggle loose the thoughts that were waying you down. Not wanting to waste Stephen's time with your shallow worries. Yeah, he was your boyfriend, but he had plenty more vastly important things to do than talk you off a self-image cliff.

"It's stupid, Stephen."

"Don't care. You've listened to me say stupid stuff plenty of times. This just makes us one closer to even."

You rolled your eyes at him, and you knew he wasn't about to give up. Stephen was the most stubborn person you had ever met. In fact, his stubbornness was part of why he pursued you for so long before you finally agreed to go out with him. If he was set on finding out what was bothering you, nothing would stop him until you told him.

So after another moment of trying to get him off the topic, you finally relented and told him what had you feeling down. Shrinking down farther into your sweatshirt as you spoke, fumbling for the right words. Letting the cozy fabric serve as its own kind of armor.

"I don't even know what got me thinking it, but I'm just feeling down on myself. That there just isn't anything about me physically that is special. I don't think I'm ugly, I just don't get why you bothered to even give me a second glance. Let alone what keeps you interested. You are the great Doctor Strange. You are so hot, Stephen, and I'm just me. I'm just plain. I'm chubby with stretch marks. You are gorgeous. You could literally be with the most beautiful women in the world."

You could see him almost flinch when you called yourself plain and that you doubted how enamored he was with you. Even if he knew it was only a passing thought, he never wanted you to question his love for you. Ever.

When it took a few moments for him to say anything in response, you immediately started to take it all back. Not wanting to drag him down into your funk with you.

"See, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm just having a bad night and -" 

Stephen cut you off with a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that could make you forget your own name. Cupping your face in both of his hands before pulling away from your lips to place several more small kisses on your forehead and in your hairline. Gradually adjusting so he could pull you closer and wrap his arms tighter around you.

"First of all, I love you so much you don't even know. So don't think for one second I would rather be with anyone else. Second of all, I know that you don't necessarily see what I see when you look in the mirror, and you don't even have to believe me, but you are gorgeous. Do you not see that half the other guys practically trail you around like puppies? Rogers turns bright red when you smile at him, and it's a wonder Barnes and Wilson haven't followed you home like strays yet."

That made you laugh. You did know Steve had harbored a crush on you before you started dating Stephen. Tony had let that spill one night after a party. Both Sam and Bucky were such flirts all the time with everyone. Of course, they always acted sweet on you. You assumed it was just them or their way of being nice. You would have to pay better attention next time you saw them, though. Just to see. 

"If one of them does follow me home, can I keep him?" 

You squinted your eyes and pouted your lips at Stephen. You loved giving him a hard time, and he loved giving you one right back.

"Absolutely not. Even if they scratch and howl at the door all night long. I'm the only one who gets to keep strays, and that only applies to America. On a good day, maybe Parker."

You giggled and shook your head in agreement. America was definitely a great addition to your little family. It did lift your spirits a little thinking about all of that, but it still didn't leave you feeling better about yourself. 

Stephen could see the way you were picking at the skin on your hands. Like you were trying to pick away the self-consciousness or what you felt were imperfections. It was a habit he noticed you fell into when you were extra hard on yourself. So, in an effort to distract you and stop you from picking at your skin, he took one of your hands in both of his.

"Do you remember the day you held my hand the first time? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? I was terrified that you were suddenly going to realize how broken and ugly my hands are. How damaged I am, and realize just how below your own league you were dating. Still are, by the way, so maybe I shouldn't say anything. You are the sexiest most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. Every inch of you is incredible and perfect to me. I thought that before you even said a word to me, and getting to know you, and falling in love with you has only made me more sure. There is no one in this universe I could ever find sexier or more special."

"Tell you what, I have an idea..." 

Stephen stood up from the bed, moving over to shut the bedroom door. Throwing the lock, too. Now that you had a teenager running about the Sanctum, it was better safe than sorry. Then, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Setting it on airplane mode as he walked back over to you.

"How about I show you what I see? Give you some actual physical proof of how beautiful you are? A picture is worth a thousand words. I imagine some more revealing, naughty photos would be worth even more."

You chuffed at him and raised a questioning brow at his suggestion. 

"Stephen, are you seriously suggesting that I let you take naked photos of me as a way of making me feel better about myself? Are you sure that isn't just gonna make you feel better?" 

His signature cheeky grin was plastered on his face, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Can't it do both? Besides, you know I've asked before for something I can enjoy when I can't have you with me, and I think you look perfect right now. Already in our bed. Already cozy and dressed for bed. Few layers to take off. This is the you I want to see when I'm not here with you."

He came over to where you were still sitting on the bed. An extra swagger in his step and a grin because of the blush you were now sporting. He started to pull teasingly at the hem of your sweatshirt with the hand he didn't have his phone in.

"Come on, take this off. I want you to see how sexy you are. I promise I will let you delete them if you want, although I certainly wouldn't mind keeping a couple for myself, but I want you to see how you look when it's just you and me. Right here, in this bed. The version of you that only I get to see, at least I do hope it's only me. A woman who puts all those supermodels and Playmates to shame. Even first thing in the morning. A goddess if one ever existed, even with bedhead and morning breath." 

Layer by layer, you let Stephen slowly strip off your clothes and arrange you on the bed. His fingers and lips adoring every new inch of skin that he exposed before proceeding to take picture after picture. Lovingly caressing every spot you deemed less than perfect. Letting him talk you through pose after pose. Some were simple and basic, normal poses. Some a bit more sultry with little left to imagine. The less clothing remained, the more bold he got with your poses. 

As your impromptu photoshoot went on, he also tried to distract you from feeling self-conscious about your body coming into view. Sometimes, by making you laugh. Sometimes, by getting a goofy look on his face as he just kind of stared at you. Almost awestruck. 

"You really have no idea how much I fantasize about you, do you? How much of my day I spend trying not to think about you? How when we first started dating, I felt like a teenager trying to control his raging hormones because all I could think of was this. What it would be like if I got the privilege to get this beautiful, incredible woman naked in my bed. That I swore if I got you here, I would never let you leave. I hate that someone ever made you feel like you are anything less than gorgeous, whether in your ratty sad sweatshirt or all dressed up. Although, this, no clothes at all, is definitely my personal favorite."

You tried not to tear up at his genuine sweetness. You could feel your cheeks blushing at his statement, too. You buried your face into the pillow you were holding before softly turning and peeking out at him from the side. Only to find him waiting for the moment you locked eyes with him to take a photo. 

In a sudden burst of confidence, you bit your bottom lip and rolled onto your back. Letting the entirety of your body be on display. Laying back and resting your head on the pillow and stretching your arms up overhead, your legs spreading on their own. You closed your eyes and arched your back as you inhaled deeply. Like you were a cat basking in the warmth of the sun. 

Your mind was completely clear of all thought until you heard a stuttered breath from your lover. It was a sound you had never heard Stephen make before. It sounded like he was looking at a priceless piece of art or one of the seven wonders. He sounded like he was in awe. Like he was in awe at the sight of your body and your beauty.

You were about to dismiss his, what you were sure had to be, over embellished praise, but then you opened your eyes. You were rendered speechless by the look of utter wonder on his face as he let his cerulean blue eyes wash over every inch of you. For possibly the first time, you saw him really seeing you, and it melted any remaining self-doubt you had in that moment.

You immediately reached out to pull Stephen to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. Rubbing your nose against his and whispering loving thanks against his lips.

"Thank you, Stephen. I love you, and even though I don't necessarily see what you see, you always make me feel beautiful. Why don't we take a few pictures together, or maybe a video or two? Maybe I want something for when you aren't here too." 

Stephen's eyes darkened at the suggestion. You had your suspicion that Stephen had a bit of an exhibition kink. You had sent each other pics before, a short video clip or two, and sexted all the time. You knew the idea of filming the two of you fucking would intrigue him. A wicked smile found it's way to his face. 

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how many times I've thought of you asking that or that I've thought of asking. Are you really okay with filming us fucking? Of course it's just for the two of us. Sorcerer's honor. " 

Stephen started trying to fiddle with the phone, trying to figure out the best way to set it up to film the two of you. Finding it hard to concentrate after you started leaving kisses on his neck. Stopping to bite and suck at the spot just below his earlobe before continuing to whisper his darkest desires in his ear.

"Well, Stephen, actually the idea does get me a little hot. Maybe if the video turns out really good, a few seconds or minutes can get leaked to a naughty site or two. Anonymously, of course. I don't want to share you with any other woman, but I wouldn't mind showing off all the ways I worship you. Let everyone see how lucky I am. Maybe get some outside opinions of how we look together." 

Stephen's eyes practically rolled back in his head at the thought. He never would suggest it himself, but he kind of loved the sound of that. Of the world getting to see how good the two of you looked together. Of seeing how well you both fit together. How your bodies were made for each other.

He scrambled off the bed using the pile of books on the dresser to create a tripod to set up the phone. Hitting record and making sure the bed was centered in the frame before coming back to join you in the sheets again. He used his magic to strip himself of his clothes. If you two were going to make a sex tape, he was gonna put some extra showmanship in it.

You couldn't help but giggle as you reach your arms out towards him. Stepben didn't waste a minute before he started crawling up your body. Teasing and nipping at your bare skin and making sure to snuggle and rub his goatee against you. Your hands immediately grabbed in his dark brown hair, loving how soft and full it felt in your fingers. 

As your lips connected, you both groaned in pleasure. Your bodies grinding and rubbing. Letting your hands roam all over Stephen's body now that you had plenty of him to touch. You could feel Stephen's cock already erect between you. Truth be told, taking those photos of you had essentially acted as foreplay for him. He was ready to go by the time he was setting up the camera. 

You moaned when you felt his hard shaft slide against the crease of your hip, so close to your sex that was starting to ache for him. Your legs reflexively spread even more on the large bed, and your nails scraped down Stephen's sides. 

"Is there something you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you need."

A sly smile on his face as he spoke. Loud enough to make sure the camera heard. Descending back on you and starting to kiss your neck. Sucking a patch or skin into his mouth hard enough to ensure you would bear a mark the next day.

Your brain finally coming back into focus when he playfully bit the same sensitive spot. His bright blue eyes met yours, and he gave you a cheeky wink. 

"Come on, pretty baby. Don't get all shy on me now. Not after you let me take all those naughty pictures of you. Plus, this part was your idea, after all. So you better speak up."

A soft groan pulled from your throat as you arched your back and ran your hands up his strong arms. Letting your fingernails scrape along his shoulders. Leaving little red scratches marking him as yours. 

"Want you, Stephen. Want you to fuck me. Pretty please, Stephen. Fuck me like only you can, baby."

He rewarded you with a deep kiss, letting his teeth nip at your bottom lip before he started working his way down your neck. Stopping to whisper a "that's my good girl" in your ear before continuing down to your collarbones. Raising his voice once again so it would be audible on the video when he started speaking again.

"You know you are the only one I want to fuck right? This is the only body that gets me this fucking hard. Your's is the only pretty little pussy I dream about filling up every chance I get. Want you full of my cum all the time. Want everyone to know you're mine." 

You felt over the moon as Stephen started to kiss his way down your body. Stopping and spending a little bit of extra attention every time he hit a spot that elicited a gasp or moan. Making you arch your back to give him access to every inch of bare skin you could.

He momentarily popped back up to kiss your lips. Suddenly taking your hand in his and lowering it so you were cupping his hard length. Letting his hips rut forward as you started to eagerly massage his hard cock. Already moving to sit up, anticipating taking him in your mouth, only for him to push you back down on the bed.

"Nope, I'm not done with you, baby, lay back. Just wanted you to feel how hard you got me. Feel how much taking those naughty photos of you turned me on? And they are all mine to enjoy, just like my cock is all yours to enjoy."

With that, he promptly began working his way back down your body. Coming to rest between your thighs, pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Leaving small nips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh and rubbing his facial hair against your skin to tease you.

A soft "Stephen, please!" escaped from your lips as you impatiently waited for his lips and tongue to work their magic on you. Feeling your hips thrust on their own when you felt him blow against your wet cunt. Making your sex flutter and clench. One of his favorite sights. 

"Make sure you don't hold back any of those pretty noises darling, want to make sure everyone can hear. Look at the camera as I eat you out, baby." 

You followed his instructions and let your head turn to the side. Keeping your eyes open as you stared into the lens. Trying to fight the inkling of self-consciousness tugging at the back of your mind. 

Those thoughts vanished completely the moment you felt Stephen's warm tongue make its first pass through your folds. All you could focus on was the feeling of his mouth on you. The scratch of his goatee against your most sensitive spots. He was taking his time. Lavishing your cunt with long licks and sucking kisses.

Stephen was a perfectionist, and that translated into every aspect of his life. Including sex. His photographic memory helping to make sure he knew exactly what way to lick and suck at your pussy to bring you to climax in record time. Only using his fingers on occasion. He could get you there with his mouth alone. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights.

Your back arched as he suckled on your clit. Keeping your gaze locked on the camera lens. Making sure to give Stephen the sights and sounds he wanted for your video. A long moan falling when you felt his tongue thrusting in and out of you. Hitching your legs up higher and farther apart so he could go deeper while letting your hips start to rut against his face.

As soon as he could feel you getting close to orgasm, Stephen pulled away and pounced on you once again. Wasting no time before he started to slowly thrust his hard cock into you. His lips biting at your neck.

He growled when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock bottoming out inside you. Holding perfectly still and letting you start to squirm beneath him. Wanting you to beg him to move. 

"Tell me what you want. Want you to say it again. Say it to the camera, sweetheart. Tell them why you're whimpering."

Your face now contorted into a pout as you tried so hard to get any sort of friction. Stephen's hips pushed flush to yours, holding you firmly in place.

"Want you to fuck me, Stephen. Need you to fuck me hard. Make me feel good, daddy. Please make me cum. Please."

He smiled and kissed you deeply. Bringing his hands to cup your face and giving you another moment of sweet intimacy before he gave you what you wanted. Pulling away and pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Scooting you just a little so the camera would be able to see his cock stretching and filling you. Once he had you right where he wanted you he began thrusting. 

"You asked for it, sweetheart. You turn me on so fucking much. This is just gonna be the first time I make you cum tonight. I'm not gonna stop until you feel like a goddess. My goddess." 

You reached up to intertwine you fingers with his as he started fucking you harder. Leaning forward so your ass was slightly lifted up off of the bed and his tip was pummeling that sweet spongy spot on your front wall. Making you clench around him each time he hit it. Your voice coming out in little squeaks and the sound of skin slapping punctuating Stephen's movements. 

You could already feel your orgasm building when Stephen moved to bring one hand down to begin rubbing at your clit. Pulling his cock out long enough to smear some of your wetness on the swollen bundle of nerves. Your cunt immediately clenching around him as he started tracing small circles there with his thumb. 

"That's it, my love. Can feel you getting close. You better cum soon because I'm not gonna be able to hold on much longer. Wanna fill you up every day. Mark you as mine. Inside and out. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum."

Stephen's own dirty talk getting the best of him. His head dropping down to watch his cock slamming in and out of your drenched cunt. Your pussy gripping tight around him sending him over the edge. His thrusts getting faster and his fingers on your clit mirroring his hips.

He let out a deep groan as he started cumming inside you. The feeling of his warm thick cum filling you triggering your own orgasm. Your cunt drenching his cock and his cum filling you completely. Your moans mingling in harmony with Stephen's. Your hands that were still clasped gripping each other tighter. 

Stephen's body falling onto yours and your lips meeting for slow, sweet kisses as your highs continued to ebb and flow. The sensations slowly fading as you came back down together. The feeling of Stephen's weight on top of you lulling you closer to sleep. All worries and neuroses disappearing and receding back into the depths of your mind. 

You were with Stephen, and Stephen loved you exactly as you were. He only had eyes for you, and he would love you no matter what. Even on days when you couldn't see your beauty, you knew he would help you to see it. Even when you didn't love yourself, he would give you enough love for both of you.

Eventually, Stephen rolled to the side and pulled you with him. Settling you under the covers and holding you close. Pressing kisses all over your face as you floated in the twilight space between waking and sleep. Not moving or pulling away until your breath settled into a steady rhythm that told him you were close to sleep.

Then Stephen stood up and went over to the phone. Stopping the recording and bringing the phone back over to the bed. Setting it down on his nightstand and purposely not setting his usual morning alarm. He wanted to sleep in with you tomorrow. He would deal with Wong later.

You were too exhausted to review the products of your photoshoot right now, but the next time you were feeling down or self-conscious, Stephen would be ready to show you just how beautiful you really were. If you still didn't believe him, maybe he would bring up the idea of an outside opinion like you suggested. You would have the world drooling over you, and he would get to gloat that you were all his.

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

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[duvetfawn]

A Case to Die For

- Masterlist

INTRODUCTION: The bones told stories only you could read. As an anthropologist, you were brought in to assist on a chilling case—a serial killer carving intricate patterns into the bones of his victims. It was meant to be about the work, about solving the mystery. But then you met Sherlock Holmes. Brilliant, maddening, and utterly magnetic, he challenged you at every turn. The case pulled you both into the depths of human depravity, but it was the tension between you and the detective that threatened to consume you entirely.

PAIRING: Sherlock x fem!reader

WARNINGS: This story contains SMUT (it's at the end, I put a warning before the scenes), MDNI, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, vaginal sex (different position), cursing, etc.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

A/N: Hello people! I've had this idea for a while. As you may have guessed I enjoy writing one-shots quite a lot. Don't worry though, I'll update my main story soon. Sorry about grammar mistakes (if there are any). Enjoy your reading!

The knock at the door was brisk, almost impatient.

You glanced at the worn numbers marking the address—221B Baker Street—and adjusted the strap of your bag, the weight of the files inside pulling at your shoulder. The letter from Detective Inspector Lestrade, which had summoned you here, was crumpled in your coat pocket, and you briefly considered turning back. You weren’t sure what unnerved you more: the gruesome details of the case you’d been asked to consult on or the man you were about to meet.

The door swung open before you could knock again.

Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway, taller than you’d expected, his lean frame emphasized by a dark suit that seemed tailored to the millimeter. His sharp cheekbones caught the light filtering in from the window behind him, and his piercing blue eyes swept over you with clinical detachment.

“Finally,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “You’re late.”

“I was told noon,” you replied, stepping into the cozy yet cluttered sitting room. The air smelled faintly of tea and books, with an undertone of something more chemical.

“It’s five past,” he said, his tone clipped as he gestured toward the couch. “Sit. Let’s get this over with.”

“Charming,” you muttered under your breath, but you complied, placing your bag beside you.

As you settled in, Sherlock was already pacing, his eyes darting over you like a scanner. He tilted his head slightly, as if piecing together a puzzle. “Forensic anthropologist. Academic background, but you’ve spent time in the field—South America, recently, given the faint traces of mosquito bites on your arms. You’re meticulous, perhaps overly so. Single—though not by choice. No pets. Late nights working have left shadows under your eyes. Addicted to caffeine. And—”

You cut him off before he could continue. “I drink tea, not coffee. And I left South America three months ago, not recently.”

Sherlock stopped mid-step, his lips twitching upward into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk.

“Impressive,” came a voice from behind you. Turning, you saw Dr. John Watson standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a warm smile on his face. “Not many people interrupt Sherlock.”

“Someone has to,” you replied, shooting a pointed look at Holmes.

John chuckled. “Well, you’ll fit in just fine here.”

“Enough pleasantries,” Sherlock interrupted, his smirk fading as quickly as it had appeared. He moved to a cluttered desk piled high with books, papers, and vials of indeterminate substances. “Lestrade claims you have insights into the carvings on the bones. Show me.”

You bristled slightly at his abrupt tone but reached into your bag, pulling out the folder containing photographs of the remains. You set it on the table, and Sherlock was on it immediately, his fingers quick and precise as he flipped through the images.

“These carvings,” you began, pointing to one of the photographs, “aren’t just random marks. They’re runic, but not purely historical. Someone’s added their own cipher to them, which is why no one’s been able to decode them yet.”

Sherlock didn’t look at you, but his lips parted slightly, and he let out a low hum of interest.

“They’re not just decorative,” you continued. “They’re instructions—or warnings. And they’re meant to mislead.”

“Fascinating,” Sherlock murmured, finally glancing up. His gaze was intense, the weight of it almost physical. “And you’ve decoded these… instructions?”

“Not yet,” you admitted. “But I’ve narrowed down the language and symbolism to something that originates from Norse mythology. Whoever is behind this knows their history but is using it to obscure their true intent.”

Sherlock straightened, his tall frame towering over you as he considered your words. Then, without warning, he turned to John. “Get the laptop. Now.”

John sighed, muttering something under his breath as he retrieved the requested item. “You could at least say please once in a while, you know.”

Sherlock ignored him, his attention already back on you. “Your methodology. Show me.”

You opened your own notebook, flipping to a page filled with notes, sketches, and translations. As you explained your process, Sherlock’s eyes darted between your notes and the photographs, his brow furrowing in concentration.

“You’re thorough,” he said finally, his voice softer than before. “Almost obsessively so.”

“I have to be,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Lives depend on it.”

His lips twitched again, as if he were on the verge of another smirk, but he turned away abruptly, the moment passing.

Hours passed as the three of you worked. The initial stiffness between you and Sherlock began to dissolve, replaced by a grudging respect. John chimed in occasionally with practical observations, but most of the time, it was you and Sherlock, your minds sparking off one another as you dissected every detail of the case.

The bones belonged to multiple victims, all of whom had vanished under mysterious circumstances. The carvings on the remains suggested a connection to a cult, one that used ancient rituals as a cover for their crimes.

As the day wore on, the atmosphere in the room grew heavier. The implications of the case were grim, and the pressure to find the killer mounted with every passing moment.

It was well past midnight when John finally stretched and stood. “I’m calling it a night. Some of us need sleep, you know.” He clapped Sherlock on the shoulder, then glanced at you. “Good luck keeping up with him. He’ll be at this all night.”

You smiled faintly as John left, but the tension in the room remained.

“You should go, too,” Sherlock said, not looking up from his laptop.

“I’m staying,” you replied firmly. “This case doesn’t just affect you, Sherlock. I’m involved now, whether I like it or not.”

He glanced at you then, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Stubborn.”

You shrugged. “Dedicated.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, unexpectedly, Sherlock’s lips curved into a genuine smile. It was fleeting, but it transformed his sharp features into something softer, more human.

As the hours dragged on, the weight of exhaustion began to set in. You leaned back against the sofa, stretching your legs as Sherlock continued to pace the room, his mind clearly racing.

“Do you ever stop?” you asked, your voice tinged with amusement.

“Rarely,” he replied without missing a beat.

You watched him for a moment, noting the way his dark curls caught the dim light and the way his sharp jawline flexed as he mulled over the case. He was undeniably striking, but there was something more captivating about the way his mind worked—relentless, brilliant, and entirely singular.

“You should sleep,” he said abruptly, breaking the silence.

“So should you.”

He stopped pacing, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. “I can’t.”

The honesty in his voice surprised you. For a moment, you saw beyond the genius and arrogance to the man underneath—a man burdened by the weight of his own mind.

“Sherlock…” you began, but he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, almost pleading.

You didn’t press further, but the moment lingered, the air between you charged with unspoken words.

The silence stretched between you and Sherlock, thick with unspoken thoughts. He returned to pacing, the sharp lines of his face etched with concentration.

You rose from the sofa, crossing to the table where the photographs of the bones lay spread out. The weight of the case had settled heavily on your shoulders. The carvings weren’t just the work of a killer—they were the work of someone meticulous, someone who enjoyed leaving a trail, daring others to follow.

“Why bones?” you murmured, half to yourself.

“What?” Sherlock’s voice cut through the room, sharp and sudden.

“Why bones?” you repeated, turning to face him. “The killer could’ve left messages in any number of ways. Why carve them into bones? It’s labor-intensive, messy, and… personal.”

Sherlock’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “Because they want us to see the victims as something more than flesh. Bones are timeless. Eternal. To them, this is art.”

The thought made your stomach churn. “So we’re dealing with an egotist. Someone who wants to be remembered.”

“Exactly.” Sherlock’s lips curved into a grim smile. He stepped closer, his movements fluid and purposeful. “And egotists always leave clues. They want to be found—eventually. It’s a game to them.”

You nodded, your mind already racing ahead. “But the runes—there’s a pattern. I don’t think they’re random.”

Sherlock’s eyes lit up, a spark of excitement flickering in their depths. “Show me.”

You reached for your notebook, flipping to the page where you’d sketched out the carvings. As you explained your theory, Sherlock leaned in, his proximity making the air between you hum with tension. You could feel the heat of him, the sharpness of his gaze as he absorbed every word you said.

When you finished, he straightened, a rare look of approval crossing his face. “You’re good,” he said simply.

“Better than you expected?” you shot back, unable to resist the jab.

His lips twitched. “Much.”

Hours later, the two of you stood side by side at the kitchen counter, a map of London spread out before you. You’d identified a pattern in the runes—coordinates, perhaps, or some kind of geographical marker.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a section of the map. “The killer’s movements trace a path through these locations. They’re circling something.”

Sherlock leaned over your shoulder, his hand brushing yours as he followed your line of sight. “They’re closing in on a central point,” he murmured. “A hub. But what?”

Before you could respond, the sound of the door opening interrupted you. John stepped into the room, his expression curious.

“You two still at it?” he asked, his gaze flicking between you and Sherlock.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, not looking up.

John sighed. “Of course you are. Did either of you eat? Sleep? Do anything remotely human?”

“I had tea,” you offered.

John shook his head. “Right. Well, if you need me, I’ll be in my room. Try not to burn the flat down.”

As John left, Sherlock straightened, his attention fully on the map once more. “We’re close,” he said, more to himself than to you. “I can feel it.”

It was well past three in the morning when the breakthrough came. You’d been poring over the map, exhaustion tugging at the edges of your mind, when Sherlock suddenly froze.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“What?”

He grabbed the map, pointing to a section near the Thames. “The carvings aren’t just coordinates. They’re dates. Look—each location corresponds to a disappearance, and the runes indicate the order.”

You stared at the map, your pulse quickening. “So the central point…”

“Is where the killer will strike next.”

The realization sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. But before you could react, Sherlock turned to you, his expression serious. “You’re staying here.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“It’s too dangerous,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The killer knows who you are. If you come with me, you’ll be a target.”

“And you won’t?” you shot back. “Sherlock, I’m not staying behind while you run off to confront a murderer alone.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then his shoulders slumped slightly, and he sighed. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered.

“And you’re overbearing,” you replied, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

The tension between you remained thick as you prepared to leave for the central location. Sherlock was quiet, his usual sharp remarks absent as he packed a small bag with tools and evidence.

“You’re worried,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes unreadable. “I’m always worried.”

“About me?”

His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the mask he wore slipped. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The admission hung in the air, heavy and charged. You stepped closer, your heart pounding. “Sherlock…”

He didn’t move, his tall frame unnervingly still. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “I can’t afford distractions,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I’m not a distraction,” you said, your voice steady.

His lips curved into a faint smile, and before you could react, he closed the distance between you. His kiss was sudden and consuming, all the tension and frustration of the past days boiling over in a single, electrifying moment.

The kiss lingered for a moment—unspoken emotions breaking through the controlled veneer that Sherlock so carefully maintained. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled back, his sharp features hardening as if he’d remembered himself.

“This is a distraction,” he muttered, turning away abruptly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “A distraction?” you echoed, your voice edged with disbelief. “You kissed me, Sherlock.”

“And I shouldn’t have,” he said, his tone clipped. He grabbed the map from the table, his long fingers gripping it tightly. “The case comes first.”

You felt a flush of anger rise in your chest. “You don’t get to decide what’s important for both of us. I’m here because I want to be.”

Sherlock turned to you then, his blue eyes flashing with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, perhaps, or something deeper. “And what happens if you get hurt?” he snapped.

“I could say the same to you,” you shot back, stepping closer. “You’re not invincible, Sherlock.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the tension between you crackling like static electricity. But before either of you could speak again, Sherlock’s phone buzzed on the table.

He snatched it up, his expression darkening as he read the message. “Lestrade,” he said shortly. “There’s been another body.”

The air was cold and damp as you arrived at the scene, the faint mist of the Thames clinging to your skin. Lestrade met you both at the edge of a cordoned-off area, his face grim.

“Another one,” he said, nodding toward the forensics team working under a floodlight. “Same carvings. Same precision. This one was left out in the open, though—almost like they wanted us to find it.”

Sherlock pushed past him without a word, his long coat billowing behind him. You followed closely, your heart pounding as you approached the body.

The victim was laid out on the ground, their arms folded across their chest in a disturbingly serene pose. The runes were etched deep into their skin, trailing up their arms and across their torso.

“Another message,” Sherlock murmured, crouching beside the body. His fingers hovered over the carvings, his sharp eyes scanning every detail.

You knelt beside him, your stomach twisting at the sight. “It’s different,” you said, pointing to a series of symbols near the victim’s collarbone. “These weren’t on the last body.”

Sherlock tilted his head, his expression sharp. “A variation in the pattern,” he said softly. “Why?”

“Because they’re escalating,” you replied. “The killer’s becoming bolder, more confident. They’re taunting us.”

Sherlock’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Or they’re telling us exactly where to find them.”

Lestrade approached, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Anything?”

Sherlock stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the scene. “Yes. The killer is leaving breadcrumbs—and we’re about to follow them.”

Back at 221B, the two of you worked furiously to decipher the new symbols. The atmosphere in the flat was charged, the earlier tension between you and Sherlock now overshadowed by the urgency of the case.

“These markings,” Sherlock muttered, pacing the room. “They’re not just coordinates. They’re a challenge—a riddle.”

You stared at the notes spread out before you, your mind racing. “It’s a location,” you said suddenly, the pieces clicking into place. “The symbols form a map—a rough one, but it’s there.”

Sherlock stopped pacing, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. “Show me.”

You grabbed a pen, sketching out the pattern of the runes and overlaying them onto the map of London. It was crude, but the alignment was unmistakable.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a spot near the outskirts of the city. “An abandoned warehouse. It’s isolated, easy to control. If I were them, that’s where I’d be.”

Sherlock’s lips curved into a rare smile—one that sent a jolt of electricity through you. “Brilliant,” he said, his voice low and almost reverent.

Your breath caught, but you quickly pushed the moment aside. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We go,” Sherlock said simply. “And we end this.”

The warehouse loomed before you, its broken windows and rusted exterior shrouded in darkness. You could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you as you and Sherlock stepped inside, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty space.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, your heart pounding as you followed him deeper into the building. The air was thick with the scent of damp and decay, and every creak of the floorboards set your nerves on edge.

Then, you saw it—a figure standing in the shadows, their face obscured.

“Mr. Holmes,” the figure said, their voice smooth and cold. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Sherlock stepped forward, his posture rigid. “And here I thought you’d try harder to hide.”

The figure chuckled, a low, unsettling sound. “Why would I hide? This is my masterpiece, Mr. Holmes. And you’re the final audience.”

You felt Sherlock’s hand brush against yours—a silent reassurance. Your pulse quickened, but you held your ground, ready for whatever came next.

Sherlock’s hand brushed against yours again, a fleeting touch, but it steadied you. His blue eyes flicked toward you for the briefest of moments, and you nodded, understanding his unspoken command to stay close.

The figure stepped forward, their face finally illuminated by the dim light filtering through the broken windows. A man, tall and gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and a glint of madness in his eyes. His hands were clasped in front of him, as if he were a host welcoming guests to a party.

“You’re braver than I expected,” the man said, his voice eerily calm. “I didn’t think you’d come here so willingly.”

Sherlock tilted his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been practically begging for my attention. Did you think I wouldn’t come?”

The man’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing. “And you’ve brought company,” he said, his gaze shifting to you. “How… quaint.”

You stiffened under his scrutiny, but Sherlock stepped slightly in front of you, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “She’s not your concern.”

“Oh, but she is,” the man said, his smile returning. “She’s part of this now. Part of my design.”

Sherlock’s expression darkened, his hands clenching at his sides. “Your design is flawed,” he said coldly. “You think yourself a mastermind, but you’re nothing more than a petty narcissist playing with symbols you barely understand.”

The man’s smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of anger. “You don’t know me, Holmes. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I know enough,” Sherlock replied, his voice like ice. “You carve your messages into bones because you crave permanence. You want the world to remember you, but you don’t understand what true brilliance looks like. You’re a coward hiding behind theatrics.”

The man lunged forward, his face twisted with rage. But Sherlock was faster. He moved with a precision that took your breath away, sidestepping the attack and pinning the man against the wall in one swift motion.

“You’ve made your last mistake,” Sherlock hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “This game is over.”

The man struggled, but Sherlock held him firm, his tall frame towering over the killer. You felt a surge of relief mixed with admiration as you watched him work, his sharp mind and physical prowess in perfect sync.

It wasn’t until the police arrived that the weight of the confrontation truly hit you. The man was dragged away in handcuffs, his defiance replaced by a sullen silence. Lestrade patted Sherlock on the shoulder, muttering something about a job well done, but Sherlock barely acknowledged him.

Instead, his attention was on you.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly, his piercing gaze softening as he stepped closer.

You hadn’t even noticed until he pointed it out. The adrenaline that had carried you through the night was fading, leaving behind a hollow ache in your chest.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice wavered.

“No, you’re not.”

Sherlock’s hands were on your shoulders before you could protest, his touch firm but gentle. He guided you away from the chaos, into the quiet corner of the warehouse where the shadows offered a semblance of privacy.

“You shouldn’t have been here,” he said, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have let you come.”

“I had to be here,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “You needed me.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then his hands tightened on your shoulders, and something in his expression shifted—something raw and vulnerable.

“I did need you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The confession hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt your breath catch as he stepped closer, his blue eyes locked onto yours.

The first kiss had been a crack in the wall. This one was the collapse.

The warehouse was silent save for the echo of your hurried breaths. The tension in the air had reached a breaking point, and when Sherlock’s lips crashed into yours, it was like a dam breaking.

The kiss was urgent, heated, his hands coming up to cup your face with an uncharacteristic lack of control. His body pressed into yours, pinning you against the cold, dusty wall. His lips were surprisingly soft, but his movements were anything but gentle. His teeth grazed your lower lip, his tongue slipping past as he deepened the kiss, leaving no doubt about the desperation behind it.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling in the dark curls you’d wanted to touch far longer than you cared to admit. A low groan escaped him as you pulled him closer, the sound vibrating through you.

But just as quickly as it started, he pulled back, his breath ragged, his blue eyes dark with something primal.

“This isn’t the place,” he said, his voice strained, but his hands remained on you, his thumb brushing over your jaw as if he couldn’t quite let go.

You nodded, your chest heaving, unable to form words.

He stepped back reluctantly, running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself. “Come to Baker Street.”

It wasn’t a request.

You followed him outside, the cold night air doing little to cool the fire raging beneath your skin. The drive to 221B was a blur—Sherlock barely spoke, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, the tension between you palpable.

By the time you arrived, the front door was barely closed before he had you pressed against it, his lips on yours once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no restraint. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel just how affected he was.

“Upstairs,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t argue, letting him guide you up the narrow staircase to his flat, every step building the anticipation to a breaking point.

Sherlock’s lips were everywhere—your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. His hands roamed with purpose, as if memorizing every curve of your body. But it wasn’t hurried. There was an uncharacteristic tenderness in his movements, a contrast to the raw hunger in his kisses.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and strained, as if he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth.

The sound of him—usually so controlled and precise—undone in this moment sent a jolt of heat through you.

You let your hands roam over his chest, marveling at the lean muscle beneath his pale skin, the way his body seemed almost sculpted, yet undeniably real. He was all sharp lines and ridges, a perfect contradiction of strength and vulnerability.

“Sherlock,” you breathed, his name tumbling from your lips without thought.

He paused at the sound, his head lifting to meet your gaze. His blue eyes were blown wide with desire, yet there was something else in them too—something softer.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I care to admit.”

Your breath caught. “And?”

His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile—so unlike him it made your heart ache. “And now that I have you, I’m not sure I’ll ever let you go.”

The vulnerability in his words stole your breath, but before you could respond, he was on you again—his lips searing against yours as if he couldn’t stand the distance for another second.

He guided you to the bed in the corner of the flat, his hands never leaving your body. When the back of your knees hit the edge, you sank down, pulling him with you.

“Lie back,” he commanded softly, his voice like velvet.

You obeyed, your pulse racing as you reclined against the pillows. Sherlock followed, his tall frame looming over you as his hands trailed down your sides.

“You deserve to be worshiped,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your stomach. “Let me show you.”

His hands slid to your hips, and with a fluid motion, he rid you of the last barriers between you. The cool air against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body, but any nervousness you felt dissolved the moment his mouth replaced his hands.

The first touch of his lips against you sent a shockwave through your body. He worked slowly at first, his tongue tracing deliberate patterns, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his dark curls.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. He was meticulous, as if solving a puzzle—reading every gasp, every shiver, adjusting his movements until he had you unraveling beneath him.

His tongue pressed harder, his pace quickening, and you couldn’t stop the moans that spilled from your lips.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice breaking.

He didn’t. If anything, he doubled down, his hands tightening on your thighs as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. When his fingers joined the fray, slipping inside you with a skill that left you breathless, it was too much.

Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your back arching off the bed as his name tore from your lips. 

But Sherlock didn’t stop—not until you were trembling, every nerve in your body alight.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistened, and the smug look on his face would’ve annoyed you if you weren’t still recovering.

“Impressive,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

You managed a weak laugh, your chest heaving. “Cocky bastard.”

He smirked, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

As the haze of pleasure began to fade, you found yourself wanting more—needing more. You pushed against Sherlock’s chest, flipping him onto his back with a boldness that seemed to catch him off guard.

“Your turn,” you said, your voice low and teasing.

His eyes darkened, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Be my guest.”

You moved down his body, taking your time exploring every inch of him. His sharp collarbones, the defined lines of his chest, the faint trail of hair leading lower—it was all intoxicating. When you reached the waistband of his trousers, you paused, glancing up to meet his gaze.

“Off,” you demanded.

His smirk widened, but he complied, lifting his hips to help you. When he was fully exposed, your breath hitched.

“You’re staring,” he teased, echoing your earlier words.

“Shut up,” you shot back, leaning down to kiss him in a way that wiped the smirk off his face.

You started slow, letting your tongue trace along him, savoring the way his body tensed beneath you. His hands fisted in the sheets, a low groan escaping his lips.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, his voice rough.

You smiled against him, taking him deeper. His reaction was immediate—his head falling back, a string of curses spilling from his lips as you worked him with a combination of precision and fervor.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his voice strained. “If you keep that up, I won’t—”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Good,” you said, your voice laced with mischief.

He growled, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you back up to him.

Sherlock’s hands tightened on your hips as he hovered above you, his breathing ragged, his dark curls falling into his face. The weight of his body pinned you beneath him, his lean frame pressing into yours in a way that made your pulse race.

He slid into you in one fluid, deliberate motion, the stretch and fullness stealing your breath. A guttural moan escaped his lips, his forehead pressing against yours as he stilled, letting you adjust.

“Christ,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and strained. “You’re… incredible.”

You dug your nails into his back, urging him to move. “Sherlock, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He didn’t make you wait. His hips began to move, a slow, torturous rhythm that left you gasping.

Each thrust was measured, precise—just enough to leave you wanting more. His lips brushed against your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured, “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders as you arched into him.

His pace quickened, each thrust deeper, harder. You could feel every inch of him, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. The sounds of skin against skin, of his low groans and your cries, filled the room.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he growled, his voice raw with desire.

You couldn’t respond, too lost in the sensation of him. His hand slid down your thigh, hooking your leg over his hip to pull you closer. The new angle sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, and you cried out, your nails raking down his back.

“More,” you begged, your voice breaking.

He obliged, shifting again, this time pulling your legs over his shoulders. The depth was overwhelming, every thrust hitting a spot that left you trembling.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and authoritative.

You opened your eyes to find his piercing blue gaze locked onto yours. The intensity of his stare was almost too much, but you couldn’t look away.

“You’re stunning like this,” he said, his tone reverent. “Completely mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver through you, and you tightened around him, pulling a sharp gasp from his lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his control slipping.

He slowed suddenly, his movements deliberate as he leaned down to kiss you. The change in pace was almost maddening, but there was something intimate in the way he took his time, as if savoring every moment.

“I want to see all of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours.

Before you could respond, he pulled out, leaving you aching and empty. He flipped you onto your stomach with ease, his hands guiding your hips into the air.

“Stay like this,” he commanded, his voice dark with lust.

You shivered as his hand trailed down your back, pausing to squeeze your hips. When he entered you again, the angle was deeper, more intense, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips.

“So good for me,” he praised, his hands gripping your hips as he set a relentless pace.

You braced yourself against the bed, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving marks you knew you’d feel tomorrow, but the pain only heightened the pleasure.

“Sherlock,” you moaned, your voice muffled by the pillow.

He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as he murmured in your ear, “You feel fucking incredible. Do you know that?”

You could only whimper in response, the words lost as he hit a spot that made your vision blur.

“I need to see your face,” he said suddenly, his voice softer but no less commanding.

He pulled out again, guiding you onto your side. He lay behind you, one hand lifting your leg as he slid back inside. The position was intimate, his chest flush against your back, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“Touch yourself,” he murmured, his hand trailing down to guide yours.

You obeyed, your fingers finding the spot that had you spiraling. His thrusts grew slower but deeper, his lips never leaving your skin as he whispered filthy praise into your ear.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his voice a mix of reverence and need. “So fucking perfect for me.”

The intensity built again, the pace quickening as he turned you onto your back once more. His body covered yours, his weight grounding you as he drove into you with a ferocity that left you breathless.

“You’re close,” he said, his tone confident.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words.

“Let go,” he commanded, his hand slipping between your bodies to push you over the edge.

The orgasm tore through you, your body arching as you cried out his name. The waves of pleasure were overwhelming, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Sherlock followed moments later, a guttural moan escaping him as he buried himself deep inside you. 

His body tensed, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he found his release.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing.

Sherlock collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he buried his face in your hair. His body was warm against yours, his breath still uneven.

“You’re remarkable,” he murmured, his voice soft but sincere.

You smiled, your head resting against his chest. “So are you.”

He chuckled, the sound low and soothing. “I suppose we make a good team, then.”

“You think?” you teased, looking up at him.

His blue eyes softened, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips. “I know.”

And for once, Sherlock Holmes had nothing else to say.

[bakerstreethound]

Congrats on 5 years! 🎉

Can I get a Sherlock fluff with Sherlock is awake first, hes looking at the reader with utmost love. But he wakes up the reader with kisses and nuzzles.❤️ I adore the way you write & I cant get enough of soft Sherlock🍓✨

Thank you so much for sending this in. I finally completed the story (I apologize for taking so long) I hope you enjoy it! There is a bit of light smut at the end so 18+ only.

Light in the Darkness

Summary: Waking up in Sherlock's arms is one of the highlights of your day, and he shows you how much he adores you; how grateful he is to have you in his life.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Sherlock groans, wiping the remaining sleepiness from his eyes. Outside, the sun barely makes itself visible, the night holding fast to London, unrelenting in its grasp over the city. Sherlock yawns, reaching out to the other side of the bed, your sleeping form breathing softly lost in the throes of sleep. 

He smiles, his hand brushing softly along your side watching as you lean into his touch. Even your subconscious knows you’re at peace here with him and you snuggle further into him, allowing yourself a moment of extended comfort before reality pulls you into its clutches. 

Lips travel softly along your neck, the soft brush of curls following in their wake as gentle nuzzles replace the kisses, going back and forth simultaneously. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips and your eyes flutter open, met with the face of your husband looking at you with simmering eyes, half lidded, the sleep not fully leaving him, yet.

“Good morning to you, too Sherlock.” 

He melts against you, your fingers running through his curls, massaging them as he likes it, earning an appreciative groan. You continue at it, relishing in the soft noises he makes, not yet ready to let any of his cases take him from you. He looks content enough, his breathing slow and steady, much the opposite of your own when you wake up startled from nightmares.   

“That feels nice,” he gazes up at you eyes shimmering in adoration, overcome with unspoken emotions he can't fathom. It’s more than nice, something you could’ve conjured in a dream.

His arm laced around your waist pulls you impossibly closer, the feeling of his bare skin against yours a reminder of the night before, allowing you to admire the marks you left behind, mingled with the scars of a time long past you knew wouldn’t disappear from his skin, a permanent reminder of those times alone. But nothing like that will happen again, not with you by his side. 

You press a kiss to his cheek, pulling him from his thoughts, and what a sight you are, eyes wide looking at him with more adoration than he could possibly fathom. His hand reaches to you of its own accord, stroking your cheek softly.

You lean into his touch, his warmth kindling a spark inside you, firing into your heart, electricity rampant between you. He doesn’t want to look away, even as the sunlight barely parting through the ever-hanging fog beckons a new day, he doesn’t want it to begin.

He only wants to remain here with you for the moment, though his mind protests, his legs aching to run down the ramparts and alleyways of his beloved town. It will always be there for him. 

London isn’t you. 

And you are more than the city that soiled his name, his reputation, slandered him for a penny here and there to get the inside scoop. 

You are his, his to cherish and damn it you are one of the only ones he truly finds some semblance of the concept of love, the feeling of you next to him makes his head spin, fathoming the possibilities of how you both ended up this way together.

It is a bond of unbreakable trust between you, beautiful and understood looming and intertwined with truth. 

His forehead rests against your and you lean up into him, your arms wrapping around his neck, your hands carding through his beautiful mass of curls, twirling a rogue strand around an index finger. 

“You’re wonderful, Sherlock. What would I do without you?” Or, rather, what could you do to help his racing mind. His eyes dart back and forth, deeming to bury his face in your neck inhaling your scent.

What was he supposed to tell you?

This feeling inside him blooming further over the past year makes him nervous, even trying to voice how he feels won’t do it justice for what he can’t fully express. 

When his lips brush yours, his arms caging you to him, encompassing you in his safety and warmth, it’s all you can comprehend consume and breathe. It’s him all-encompassing and nothing more. Nothing feels more right than this moment. 

“Sherlock,” your voice falls from his lips in a perfect incandescent harmony, one he wants to breathe, to sing to create with you and you alone. 

Fiery desperation fuels the strength of his kiss drowning you further into the heat of his flames, the coolness of your water evaporating his lips in a breath of fresh air.

You don’t want it to end, despite the time, the hour, the plans for the day, all is obsolete and his hands brush under the seam of your shirt, slently asking for permission. No other words are needed, you welcome him without question, shivering as your form is revealed to him, inch by inch, each intake of breath anticipating his next move.

Lips grazing your neck, hands falling to your hips, stroking circles just so. Your hands dig into his back, clinging to him like a lifeline, not daring to let go.

His body pressing against yours, groaning at the friction makes you shiver in anticipation. The full feeling of his skin against your laid bare to him is nothing more than comforting. 

It’s home, it’s where you belong.

Only he got to see you in such a manner and you for him.  Such is the manner of things and how they’ll always be. You want no one else but him. His feelings are indescribable as his fingers work you slow, your mouths falling open at the sensation, digging into his back harder, begging and pleading his name. 

He loves you like this, would frame it if he could. Another memory another shot of the countless images in his mind palace he keeps. Memories of you always flutter near and you’re where he belongs, his northern star the compass pointing him home.

For London may be his city, but here with you in his arms, falling apart through his love, he is home at last. A beacon of light in the darkness.

******

[iamsherlocked1479]

Happpy New Year

Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: explicit content 18+, slut shame, chocking

Description: Stephen doesn't like that you recived a compliment, he doesn't like that somebody would even consoder they had a chance with you.

——————————

Most people are drunk right now, you’re not denying that you were, of course nobody leaves a Stark party completely sober. All beat it, most of the guests haven’t left yet, they were currently counting down to midnight last you heard the ball will drop in 10 minutes, but you couldn’t care right now. You’re currently pressed up against the padded wall of what looks like a gym, technically you hadn’t left Stark Tower yet, with your legs neatly parted over Stephen's shoulders as his tongue glided through your slick folds. 

“Oh fuck steph- we’re gonna miss the countown, we have to- shit.” Your eyes squinted shut and your hand tightened in his hair as he drew you closer to an orgasm. Your statement was thoroughly met with a grunt and a quick “I don’t care sweetheart” as his tongue continued to lap its way around your clit.

This had all started because Thor complimented your dress, he meant no harm of course only stating that you should belong with the Asgardian gods. But like always Stephen was jealous, he hated that a man would even consider himself worthy of being able to see you the way he did, a goddess in your own right. So after that one incident, at exactly 11:49pm Stephen had enough of the looks you were getting, even though you only had eyes for him, and proceeded to pull you into the nearest empty room and show exactly how only he could make you feel.

“Shhh, sweetheart, don’t want anyone hearing those sweet sounds you make for me.” He said, snaking his hand up your body to cover your mouth as you came. He lifted your legs off his shoulder and pinned you between him and the wall. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you, your hands continued to work on the buttons of his shirt as they had done earlier before he dropped to his knees for you. “Ah, ah sweetheart” he grabbed your wrists and moved your hand to his tight trousers where you palmed him through his clothes, “we gotta do this fast, i want all the others to see me kiss you at midnight.” He purred as he spun you around, tracing his cock between your folds before pushing you against the wall with a deep thrust. 

You didn’t like jealous stephen, but you loved the way he fucked, he was normally so gentle and kind making sure to touch and kiss you everyway possible before slowly drawing out orgasm after orgasm. But jealous Stephen, he fucked hard, he wasnt one for yelling or arguing, so he would take out his frustrations by pounding into you, he wanted to prove how fast he could make you cum how only he could make you feel that good. 

“You’re mine you know that right?” He purred as he sucked and nibbled at the pulse point on your neck leaving a purple mark for all to see. His cock had the perfect curve making it rub right against your g-spot in this position.

“Steph- please, i know im yours, fuck” you cried as his hand snaked around your neck bringing your head to his. He squeezed slightly, not enough to make it hard for you to breathe, but enough for your hand to clamp onto his wrist and walls to clench around his cock.

“Did you like the way Thor looked at you?” He moved his free hand to pull your dress down just enough to expose your tits to the world. “Did you want him looking at these?” He groaned with his cock twitching inside you. He grabbed on one of your tits, roughly massaging it in his hand and pinching on the nipple. “You know you’re so beautiful, I know you know every man smart enough wants you, admit it you like the attention.” He hissed, kissing your neck and thrusting even harder causing a pile of weights to tumble to the floor. “Tell me sweetheart, do you enjoy the attention?”

“Ye- shit, yes stephen. Fuck.” You moaned, your legs shaking at the overstimulation. He spun you around so that you could see yourselves in the mirrored walls, one hand gripped your chin and pointed you towards the mirror, while the other clung around your abdomen holding you in place as he kept himself inside you.

“Look at you.” He hummed in satisfaction, you looked at what you saw, your dress creased, tits popping out over the top of your dress, mascara running down your face, legs shaking, “look at us” you looked at him through the reflection, eyes darkened, hair stuck with sweat to his forehead, shirt falling down his shoulders and his trousers down only just enough to get his cock out. It was a sight to see, yet a sight you and stephen both loved to see, he loved showing you what he can do to you, and you loved that stupid dumb sarcastic smile of his. 

His arm that wrapped around your waist slid down to your clit as he continued pushing inside you, his fingers played with your clit using his precum that dripped from you as a lubricant, adding to the pleasure. You squeezed your eyes shut as you could feel that knot tightening, threatening to break as your insides fluttered. Stephen moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him.

“Open your eyes” he demanded “I want you to watch as I make you cum, i want you to realise you’re a slut, but you’re my slut.” He grunted as he felt himself drawing closer to his release, his fingers now frantically swiped up and down your clit and with his cock still hitting your g-spot, the sensation became unbearable and the knot snapped, this felt different your felt yourself dripping onto him and creating a small puddle on the hard gym floor. Your knees buckled and you melted to the floor where Stephen set you on all fours, still making sure you can see yourself in the mirror. He kept himself inside you as you slumped, trying to catch your breath

“You see that, that's how good I can make you feel. Tell me what you are.” he said, giving you a single hard thrust causing the sound of skin on skin to echo through the dark room.

“Yours.” you said through breathless moans, this landed a firm yet satisfying slap on you ass as he sped up his motions.

“My what?” he said “speak up” he said moaning, following his own ecstasy

“Your slut.” you cried out, holding yourself up as you could see in the mirror that he was completely lost in the chase for his own orgasm, so you angled yourself that you were pushing yourself onto him every time he entered you. “I’m your slut stephen, yours and yours alone, my pussy is made for you.” your words only encouraged him as he moaned with the satisfaction that the lesson he had been trying to teach you had finally sunk in. 

“That's right sweetheart, your mine” His trembling hands practically vibrated as he gripped the fat of your hips turning his knuckles white. You looked in the mirror, the smell of sex filling your nostrils, you looked at the sight behind you, his biceps straining through the sleeves of that white dress shirt you loved so much, his muscular chest shining with sweat. That was the man you fell in love with, every inch of him, even his salt and pepper temples he hated so much, you loved him.

“Say it again sweetheart.” he begged, he was so close.

“I’m your slut Stephen. I want you to fill me up, make your slut drip with your cum Stephen.” you called out with a victorious smile as he came, strengthening his grip on your waist. His body caved on top of yours as he littered your shoulder with kisses.

“Did you fuck out that atitude?” you asked with a giggle

“I don’t have an attitude.” he stated, sitting back on his knees and watching his seed drip from you. “I just like to make my opinion clear.” he smiled when you jolted as he pushed his cum back into your sensitive hole.

“I think you did.” you got up and put your underwear back on, which had been left at the door, the face he pulled when he realised you were just going to keep his seed inside you almost wanted to make you do it all again, but you did have a deadline to meet. You watched as he buttoned up his shirt and tucked himself back in place. “You know I love you and only you right?” 

“Of Course i do.” he walked over and kissed your forehead “i just wished other people understood that.” he clicked his fingers and your makeup and hair neatened themselves up like nothing had happened and linked his arm into yours.

“It was just a compliment Stephen, Thor didn’t mean anything by it.” you laughed to yourself as the hum of the party grew near

“You don’t know that for sure.” Stephen joked back as he grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to you.

“I know you’re jealous.” you looked at him and he rolled his eyes

“So what if I was?” he smiled “Sometimes i think you prefer it.”

“So what if I did?” your brow quirked, he opened his mouth to say something when you were interrupted by the rest of the guests beginning to count down and stephen lead you to the balcony where the others where

“3… 2… 1… Happy new year!” Stephen pulled you towards him and locked his lips with yours with a passionate kiss, you had to grip your glass so that you didn’t drop it on impact, he pulled you closer to him, allowing you to rest on his chest before finally parting.

“Happy new year sweetheart.” he smiled and gave you another peck

“Happy new year.” you smiled back

“Now correct me if i’m wrong but we need to go home, i haven’t seen you naked since last year.” he pulled your wrist

“That joke wasn’t funny last year and it still isn’t” you gave him a pity laugh

“Then why are you following me?”

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

A/N: I have to say i might have gotten a little carried away with some of the language there, but im not appologising, this was based of a dream i had a few weeks back and i thought i'd turn it into a lil end of year gift for you all because in january i will have bneen posting for two years which is crazy to me because this year we have grown from around 50 followrrs to 250! which is even more crazy so, hope to get back into the swing of things next and hope you all have a great new year love ypu all sm! <3

[thedaredevilsgirl]

False God

Priest!Stephen Strange X Reader

Warnings: Small discussion, SMUT: sex without a condom.

Hi, this is Ray. In this short excerpt we have Father Strange so in love with one of his devotees, since a little forbidden love never hurt anyone. This excerpt was taken from a story I've been planning for some time, inspired in Thou Shalt Not Covet by @daydreamtofiction and the song False God by Taylor Swift. Please let me know what you think and if you think I should start posting the first chapters of this story. I hope you enjoy it. -Forgive any grammatical errors, English is not my first language-

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... "I need an answer, God," the priest says, now on his knees, begging the Lord to respond and help him with his dilemma. "I just need an answer."

It is at that exact moment that Strange hears the heavy church door opening and closing, rising to look at the candlelit hallway that highlighted a silhouette so familiar to him.

Stephen feels his breath falter; the vision before him, walking toward him, was wicked and sinful for his thoughts, yet still seemed deliciously divine.

You were there, soaked from the heavy rain falling outside, the dress you had worn earlier at the festival now clinging to your body.

"It’s late," Stephen says, after gathering the courage to finally speak to you. "What are you doing here? You should be home by now."

"I need to confess," you explain, your voice trembling, perhaps a little nervous.

"It’s past midnight, the church is closed, come back tomorrow," he didn't mean to be harsh, but thought it was the only way to get you to leave quickly, though he was wrong.

"I need to confess," you repeat, making it clear you wouldn’t leave until you got what you wanted. "God’s house doesn’t close to a believer, no matter the hour. You, of all people, should know that, Father Strange."

Being called Father Strange by you hurt. Just days ago, you were close, perhaps even friends. He had grown used to hearing your sweet voice calling him Stephen, until he had given in to temptation during the trip to New York. Hearing you be so polite with him now reminded him of how greatly he had erred.

"You’re right," Stephen knew he would regret it, but he already felt so guilty for everything he had done with you that he couldn’t deny your wishes any longer.

The two walk silently to the large confessional in the corner of the church. He could hear everything even through the wooden wall, listening to your trembling breath as you prepared to speak, watching through the small window as you made the sacred sign of the cross.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you begin.

"Tell me what happened, and we will decide your penance."

"I am engaged," the small reminder of this fact made Stephen’s heart ache in his chest. "And he is a good man, a really good man, but I don’t love him. In fact, I feel like I’ve never truly loved him, but my family adores him, and this union would be great for everyone."

"The church does not support a marriage built without true love," the priest says, trying to hide from both you and himself that, in reality, he was more than pleased to know of your lack of love for that idiot your family had chosen for you.

"I know, I know, but I must marry him; it’s what everyone expects of me, what they’ve always wanted for me, and I simply cannot ruin their plans," the pain in your voice and exhaustion was palpable, trying to be the perfect daughter and feeling like you had to carry the world on your shoulders. "So I must marry him, try to love him, respect him, and be faithful to him," you take a deep breath before continuing. "But that’s the problem, Father. I’m in love with another man. More than that, I lay with this man, and forgive my words, but damn, I loved every bit of it."

Stephen says your name in a warning tone. "I think we’d better not talk about this," he doesn’t have time to finish reprimanding you, as you quickly interrupt him.

"But the next day, he left me. He said the best night of my life had been a mistake that couldn’t be repeated, said we should stay away from each other. Suddenly, I lost a faithful friend, a confidant, and he broke my heart."

"Stop, please," he pleads.

"And I should be happy about that," your tone rises, emotions overwhelming you. "I should kneel before God and be thankful, go back to living my life as if none of this had happened, but I can’t."

"Stop," Stephen repeats, not knowing what he could do if this went on.

"I can’t, because all I can think about is him, his voice, his advice, his touch," the sound of your footsteps in the booth is audible. "And I don’t know what to do anymore. I find myself in the middle of the night wishing he were there with me, craving his kiss, touching myself wishing he would touch me that way, desiring every part of him, desiring you."

The priest felt he might explode at any moment, give in to his temptations, and worst of all, he wanted it. He had wanted it for a long time.

The curtain on his side of the booth suddenly opens, and he finds himself face to face with you, panting, still wet from the rain, tears streaking your face.

"So tell me, Father," you move closer to where he was sitting, "tell me what I should do when all I want is you?"

"This...this isn’t right," it was the first time in years Stephen found himself stammering with nervousness.

"I KNOW, DAMN IT, I KNOW," you shout, unable to contain yourself any longer. "But I can’t, I can’t resist anymore. I’ve tried, I’ve been trying since the day I met you, and I know you’ve been trying too. Don’t lie to me."

Your hand rests gently on his face, making him sigh. He had missed your touch so much in the past weeks.

"Please, don’t do this," Strange whispers, looking at you, his beautiful blue eyes now darkened by his dilated pupils. He does nothing to pull away, one of his hands moving directly to your waist.

"Tell me to leave, and I will. I’ll only step into this church again on my wedding day, and then you’ll never see me again. But I know you want me here, I know you want me."

He couldn’t resist anymore, not now, not ever.

Stephen pulls you tightly by the waist, guiding you to sit on his lap, finally kissing you again. This time was different; it wasn’t gentle. Instead, he poured all the longing he had felt into that kiss, aggressively holding you tightly as if you might slip away from his arms at any moment, his hand moving up the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, deepening the kiss even more.

"I missed you," you whisper between kisses.

"I don’t think I could put into words how much I missed you."

His other hand slides down one of your thighs, removing the friction of the wet fabric of your dress from your body. The only thing you could feel in that moment was the immense pleasure of his body’s heat against yours, sighing in pleasure as his finger neared the wetness already forming in your panties.

You are quick to unzip his pants and touch his already hard cock.

Everything happens quickly, both of you burning with desire, just wanting to feel each other and quench the longing that had consumed you for weeks.

He doesn’t even bother removing your panties, just pushing them aside and making you slide down onto his cock, a long moan escaping your lips, tears of pleasure welling up in your eyes.

You move, experimenting with the different position, holding onto him even tighter, watching him and unable to contain your sounds of delight with each new movement.

Stephen feels himself nearing the edge, and he doesn’t care if he’s coming too quickly. All he could think about in that moment was how beautiful you looked riding him, the most divine vision he had ever seen in his life. If he were to go to hell for this, it didn’t matter—it was worth it.

He wraps a finger around your necklace, with its silver crucifix, pulling you in for one last kiss as the two of you reach your climax.

You rest your head on his shoulder, recovering, feeling his arms holding you tightly.

"Don’t leave me, Stephen, please," you whisper. "I need you."

"I won’t, not ever," his hand gently caresses your back, comforting you. "I promise you."

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@ironstrange1991 (You commented that I could tag you in the posts about Stephen, so I hope you like it )

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my next stories 💞

[ironstrange1991]

Can't Live Without You

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen is feeling lonely and doesn't know how to deal with his own feelings and needs.

Word Count: 3,1k

Warnings: SMUT: Male masturbation.

A/N: This is not my best work, but I am glad I'm finally able to post something. Hope you guys enjoy it and have a nice reading ;)

Stephen couldn't remember the last time he was completely alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum. Ever since the other Stephens arrived, he had gotten used to having them roaming within those walls, but both of them were out on different missions.

Defender went with Wong to Hong Kong's Sanctum and they would stay there for a few days and Supreme were in another planet with the Avengers. Wong not being in there  was the only reason he wasn't tormenting Stephen with the most boring tasks he could think of, but to be honest, Stephen was already missing his friend.

Christ, he really wasn't doing well to have gotten to the point where he missed Wong's nagging. In fact he was feeling alone. Lonely. That was the word he was trying to find to express the feeling he had been feeling in his chest all day. What a weird thing to feel.

He was missing you. You had gone on a work trip earlier in the week, but although you had promised to return in three days, it was Friday and he hadn’t had no sign of you other than the text admitting that you wouldn't be able to return before Monday.

He got angry when he read it. Not at you, but with the fact that somehow he was getting a taste of his own medicine: alone on a Friday night while you worked.

Of course he could come to you. Anywhere in the world, he could come to you, but he couldn't do it without you telling him you wanted so and every night you talked on the phone you didn't mention it. It wasn't like you suddenly forgot that your boyfriend could open a portal in your room to fuck you. No, Stephen was almost certain that you were using those days to distance yourself a little bit from him. Like a Stephen detox. After all, you had three of him and he admitted that they were not at all easy on you.

Stephen sighed, walking down the halls to the kitchen and took a good look in the fridge trying to find something to eat. There was leftover Chinese food he bought on Wednesday, two pieces of pizza he bought yesterday and some Tupperware with leftover food that he promised you he would get rid of and clean up, but he hadn't.

Shit, he was a terrible housekeeper.  It was pathetic, but it was true. Before you, he used to live of take-outs and the things that Wong cooked. Now he could barely imagine living the rest of the weekend like that. Obviously, he could try cooking. There were some half-finished things in the fridge, easy stuff, but he didn't want to risk setting the kitchen on fire, so he took the box of Chinese food and put it in the microwave to heat it up. While he waited, he took a piece of cold pizza and started eating while opening a bottle of beer.

He was starving and tired. He needed a good shower and a good night of sleep, but he hadn't been able to sleep well since you left. It wasn't a coincidence, you were the only person who could make him sleep when he was having one of his insomnia crisis. The methods you used were... how to say? Delicious.

He smiled to himself just at the thought of your nights together, then the microwave beeped  and he sat down to eat, but even that made him feel depressed. Stephen, who for many years lived alone and always thought it was great, now began to understand that he hated being left alone. He couldn't even conceive the idea of ​​living alone again.

He ate in complete silence and when he finished, he checked all the Sanctum seals and went up to his room. He crossed the room, getting rid of the boots he had worn all day and which were already making his feet hurt and took off the top of his robes,  took a pair of sweatpants from the closet drawer and headed to the bathroom.

The water was hot enough to burn his skin, but that was exactly how Stephen liked it. The fog fogging up the shower glass and enveloping the entire bathroom. Stephen let the hot water fall directly on his back and little by little he felt his tense muscles relaxing. He soaped himself quickly and washed his hair taking as long as he could and when he finished he wrapped a towel around his waist and dedicated himself to shaving. He was used to shave once every two days, goatee maintenance was a priority for him because he knew you loved it, it made him want to always make it perfect for you. In fact, as time went by, Stephen realized that everything he did was for you.

Finally, he threw himself on the bed feeling the tiredness of the day hitting him. He wanted to sleep, but he wasn't sleepy. That was one of the worst feelings in the world: being tired, but not being able to fall asleep. Usually you helped him in these situations, you made him sleep in your special way. God, he wanted you. He needed you.

He rolled over on the bed to reach the nightstand and threatened to take his sling ring, but stopped, scolding himself. Give her space, Stephen Strange. He thought, trying to convince himself, but the mere idea of ​​opening a portal in your hotel room made his body react instantly and Stephen sighed, realizing that maybe there was only one way to get through that hellish night without you: to handle the issue himself... thinking of you.

He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head allowing himself to run his hand down his abdomen imagining it was your hands reaching for his growing bulge. Stephen moaned softly with the contact of his hand on his cock even through the fabric of his pants. He was without a lay for five days. It was absurd to him, he couldn't imagine lasting another day without you and yet there he was being forced to resort to masturbation because you weren't there. It was unfair and cruel and he wanted to scream to the world that he didn't deserve to go through that, but deep down he knew he was being melodramatic.

When his hand went under his pants and his trembling hand made contact with his hard, sensitive member he closed his eyes immediately and your face was what he saw. You smiling sweetly at him. Stephen had an extra factor that made masturbation always intense: his photographic memory.  He could basically remember in great detail every moment you ever spent together, every touch, every kiss, every moan that came out of your mouth. It was all there in his head ready to be used like a movie whenever he needed it. And that night he needed it.

His cock pulsed in his hands the moment he closed his fingers around it. The tremor in his hand, previously a problem, was now an even greater stimulation that made jerking off more pleasurable.  Stephen had been working on it for some time. Hours and hours of physiotherapy to try to regain a minimum of strength in his hands that would allow him to pleasure himself without having to resort to magic. Of course, he would never admit that was the real motivation behind his decision to seek help after so many years. It wasn't significant enough to solve the problem, but it strengthened his nerves enough for him to gain the necessary autonomy.

Obviously he still preferred your hands. Oh god, your hands were magical. Much more magical than his. They were small and delicated and way they were soft and yet had a firm and insistent grip was enough to make him see stars.

"Fuck sweetheart..." Stephen moaned softly, moving his hands slowly up and down inside his pants. He didn't want it to end quickly. He was just working himself up, just letting his mind wander as he felt the sensation building inside him. His balls were full and sensitive. So much cum contained there. So much to give you, but you weren't there.

But if you were, he knew exactly how you would treat him. How you would get down on your knees and prop your body to show up your tits for him, how you would look him right in the eyes with that naughty face biting your bottom lip and then pull the hem of his pants to free his cock and how you would smile pleased seeing how hard he was for you.

You were so dirty, you loved sex as much as he did and he never needed to ask for a handjob or blowjob because you loved to give. You were perfect for him and he was irrevocably yours.

He moaned again finally releasing his cock and then conjured a bottle of lube in his left hand and poured some of the sticky liquid onto his cock and began to stroke himself slowly, but putting a little more firmness into the touch. In response his cock pulsed in his hand and his hips jumped up.

Oh you would love to see him doing it. You would praise him for it and would say how much you loved him and how much you adored seeing him pleasuring himself. You would call him Steph. Such a silly way of calling him, yet so sweet coming from your lips in your sweet voice. Stephen knew very well he loved everything you did.

He lolled his head back onto the pillow and bit his lip to hold back a loud groan.

Following the memories that played in his mind, he thought about how you always moaned while jerking him. How having his dick in your hands made you horny and how it always made him feel.

He thought about the way your lips curled into a shy smile every time he started talking dirty to you. How the grip of your hand got tighter, how you loved it. You were a dirty little thing. His dirty little thing.

Stephen let a louder moan echo through the room. You loved that too. The sounds he made when you held him in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and stroked his cock harder and faster. The tip was leaking precum and he was so ready to be inside you, but all he could do at that moment was think about it. And that's what he did.

He thought about how wet you always were when he touched you after you give him a handjob. How his fingers easily slid in and out of you and how you always squirmed around his fingers, begging for more. He thought about how you always begged for him. How you couldn't bear to wait, how you shamelessly opened your legs to welcome him in.

"Always so good to me." He murmured "My sweet girl is always so good to me."

Stephen started using his other hand to massage his balls too. It was how he liked you to do it. He liked to be stimulated as much as possible, he liked when you licked and sucked on his balls. He liked it dirty and messy and you knew exactly how to do it.

He knew you like no one else and he liked to think that even the other Stephens didn't know how to satisfy you like he did, but at the same time he liked to see them trying.

"Oh shit." Stephen was startled by that train of intrusive thoughts and increased the strength of his strokes as the room was invaded by the wet sound of his hands working on himself.  He thought about how he loved watching you get fucked by the other Stephens. It was no surprise, but the images that invaded his mind were of really intense moments and they almost threw him over the edge immediately, such was the strength they had as stimulation.

Stephen let out a breathy laugh as he shook his head in disbelief, but he did not try to change the thoughts in his mind, instead, he dwelled in those memories. How you always looked beautiful bouncing on top of Defender while you kept Supreme's cock in your mouth, and that bastard always fucked your mouth roughly and you loved it and Stephen loved the sound it made, the tears that ran down your eyes as they abused you.

Stephen thought about how he loved watching you get creampied. How delicious it was to see them emptying themselves inside you, to see you being violated by their release knowing that you would have to take one more.

His hands now punished his cock with a touch of violence and his mouth was half open, eyes squeezed shut as the images played in his mind.  He thought about the delicious feeling of fucking your pussy full of cum, how the wet squelching noise turned him on even more and how you always seemed gloriously spent after rounds and rounds with the three Stephens. It was pornographic, it was filthy and beautiful.

"F-Fuck yes." He moaned spurting his release all over his stomach and making a mess on himself. Still, he didn't stop, he kept bringing himself dangerously close to overstimulation as his mind focused on the expressions you made as your entire body writhed in ecstasy with your orgasm. How your cheeks would turn red when they were done and how sweetly you would smile at them. Almost innocent.

"Such a dirty girl." He muttered to himself, slowing down his hand until it came to a complete stop, but he didn't have time to recover as he was surprised by the sound of his cell phone ringing.

"Shit." He grumbled, wiping his hands quickly on the sheet and making even more of a mess when he turned to pick up the device on the nightstand and felt his release running down the sides of his ribs.

It was your name on the display. In fact, the word Sweetheart.

"Hey, sweetheart." He answered, still trying to regulate his breathing, but of course you noticed.

"Hey. I was wondering if maybe you’d want to..." But you stopped for a moment and then asked, "Were you running?"

Stephen instinctively cleared his throat. "What? No. I was..." But he couldn't think of anything to say and there was a silence on the line and then a little giggle.

"What were you doing, Stephen?" You asked.

He sighed feeling his cheeks get hot from the fact that he had been caught. There was no point in lying.

"I... I missed you, Y/n."

There was an affectionate hum from your side of the line.

"Well, I called to ask if you'd like to come and meet me now. I'm missing you too, Steph."

He chuckled nervously. "I thought you would never ask. I thought you were enjoying having some time away from us."

You giggled, "Don't be silly. I was just really tired. But it's okay if you don't want to come now that you've solved your problem on your own. Maybe you would prefer to go to sleep…"

But he was already getting up.

"Now who's being silly?" He ran to the bathroom and quickly cleaned himself up and went back to the bedroom to get his sling ring. "Remind me again what hotel are you in?"

"At the Plaza." You responded promptly. "I told you yesterday and I thought..."

But you stopped talking when the portal opened in your room and he walked through it, heading towards you and taking you in his arms in an intense kiss.

"I missed you. So badly." He confessed on your lips, letting his forehead rest on yours. You smiled, looking surprised by his confession and cupped his cheek. "It's only been five days, Stephen. You've already spent three weeks on a mission."

He shook his head, "It's horrible. Staying at home. Without you.

He confessed to which you smirked.

"Now you know how I feel."

"I'm very sorry." He said pulling you back into his lips.

...

Stephen was staring up at the ornate ceiling of your hotel room with a smile plastered on his face. Making love to you had that effect on him. His arm was extended so you were cuddled close to him, your head resting on his chest, moving slowly as he breathed. The two of you were silent, still enjoying the afterglow of your release and his heart was finally at peace. Outside you could hear the sporadic sound of cars passing on the street and conversations in the hallway.

"The sound insulation in this place is horrible. How have you been able to sleep here?" He asked breaking the silence and you hummed, apparently still unable to form a sentence.

"Your boss could have paid for a better hotel." He continued and you shrugged.

"I liked it here. The room service is great and the food too."

Stephen smiled to himself. You were always so satisfied with everything. You never complained about anything. Totally the opposite of him.

"Besides, I'm always so tired when I get here that I fall asleep as soon as I put my head on the pillow."

He nodded, stroking your cheek and was silent for a moment, just a minute, but long enough for you to tilt your head to look at him.

"What is it?"

"I think I made a discovery this week and it was kind of scary." He said already knowing he would regret what he was about to say.

You smiled convinced as if you already knew what he was going to say. "Did you find out you can't live without me?"

He chuckled "I already knew that. I just realized the obvious and it wasn't pleasant."

You frowned trying to understand what else it could be then.

"I don't think I can live alone anymore. Before, when I worked at the hospital, I liked the silence of my apartment, but this week the empty Sanctum filled me with horror to the point that I missed Defender and Supreme."

You smiled glancing at him "That's something I never imagined you would say."

"I never imagined I would feel this way, sweetheart. The truth is, I like them. I can talk to them in a way that I don't talk to anyone else."

"It might have something to do with the fact that they are you” You reminded him.

"You are right."

You brought your hand up to his chin scratching his goatee. "How are things at home? No problem, I imagine. No demonic entity has tried to take over our washing machine?"

Stephen giggled "No. All boringly normal."

"What a shame!" You said, feigning disappointment.

Stephen smiled to himself and lifted your chin enough for him to kiss your lips.

"I love you, sweetheart. With each passing day I love you more. You changed my life for the better and changed me in the process. I'm definitely a better man because of you."

You sighed softly, your throat bobbing. "Oh I love when you say these things to me, Steph."

He smiled, pinching your cheek provocatively. "I may not be Defender, but I know how to be romantic sometimes."

“Of course you do.” You smile "And I love you too. With all my heart."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[omgstarks]

The Doctor Will See You Now (Stephen Strange x Reader)

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: Nervous for your first ob-gyn visit, you meet the handsome Doctor Stephen Strange. As he guides you through the examination, a mix of anxiety and attraction brews.

Warnings: SMUT over 18+ ONLY, semi-public sex, creampie, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving)

AN: Just had my first cervical exam so...

“Hi, I’ve got an appointment at 4:00.” You leaned against the counter while the receptionist behind it typed away at her computer.

“Your name?”

“Y/N, L/N”

“Great, I’ve checked you in. If you can have a seat, one of the doctors will come out and call you.” She gave you a reassuring smile. You took a seat in the waiting room. It was a cold, bright room that was illuminated with harsh LED white lights. In the background, played some local radio station. You were feeling anxious. It would be your first time seeing an ob-gyn, and the thought of being bare from the waist down to a complete stranger was intimidating, even more so if the doctor wasn’t a woman.

You looked around the room to see some other patients of all ages waiting. Mostly women, but a handful of men. It was nice to know some men actually cared about their sexual health.

You waited patiently as patients came and went, scrolling through Instagram to past the time or just sitting alone in your thoughts, periodically skipping through songs on Spotify. Suddenly, the big doors leading to the examination rooms swung open, and a man walked through, clipboard in hand. All eyes followed, hopeful to be the next one called.

The doctor, tall, with a slender figure and dark hair graced by white at his temples, wore navy blue scrubs beneath a white lab coat. He wore a face mask which he took off revealing a sharp jawline and high cheek bones.

“Y/N? Y/N L/N.” He spoke in a low baritone voice, scanning the room. You lifted your hand and quickly grabbed your things, standing up to meet him. His eyes met yours, and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, and I’ll be conducting the examination and tests with you.”

“Hi,” you replied, a touch more nervous at the realization that your doctor was a man- even worse, an attractive one at that. He looked slightly older than you, probably in his late 30’s early 40’s But his clean-shaven face and styled hair, made him look younger.

“You can follow me this way.” He held the door open for you to walk through and led you down a hallway. You followed him, watching the white coat billowing behind.

“The room is just down here.” He motioned to the examination room at the end of the hall.

“Just take a seat in the blue chair by the computer, please.” You nodded and took a seat, scanning the room you were in. The room was small and sterile, with white walls and tile floors. A single circular window offered a view of the city below. 

On the wall by the door were a couple of large posters. One with the different forms of contraception and the other an infographic of the female reproductive system. Your eyes scanned the poster, and you felt a slight shiver run down your spine. You knew that this doctor would be examining your reproductive system in just a few minutes, and you couldn't help but feel nervous. He was an attractive man- a part of you just hoped you wouldn't embarrass yourself by doing anything inappropriate during your examination.

Doctor Strange sat at the computer, reading up on your record on the clipboard, and he cleared his throat and met your eyes.

“So, how are you feeling today?"

"Good. Just a little nervous." You admitted.

"That's understandable." Doctor Strange said. "But I promise that I'll make this as comfortable as possible for you." You nodded.

“I just have to ask you some questions before we start. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” You replied. He looked back to his computer and pulled up a long form.

“Can you recall when your last menstrual period was?”

“Umm, about two weeks ago.”

“Normal bleeding?”

“It’s been pretty irregular since I had the implant inserted a couple of months ago. I’ve heard it might just be the hormones?” You fiddle with your thumbs.

“Most likely. The progesterone in Nexplanon often induces variations in the menstrual cycle. But we’ll assess and rule out any potential underlying concerns." A reassuring smile accompanied the explanation.

“Great.”

“Are you currently taking any medication or supplements?” 

“No medication, but I am taking some vitamin D supplements.” This earned a small chuckle from him as he typed. “That’s a good idea during this gloomy time.”

“Just trying anything to combat the seasonal depression.” you joked.

“Maybe I’ll give that a shot.” He smirked.

Doctor Strange continued asking you questions, delving into your medical history and current health. He diligently typed your answers into the computer.

Your eyes flickered down to his fingers with each keystroke. His hands were big and the pads of his fingertips were almost the size of the keys themselves. Your eyes roamed up to the prominent veins etched on his hands, and you wondered how they would might feel pressed against your skin-

“And, when was the last time you had sex?” This took you out of your trance. You choked on your breath, a bit startled by the question. You knew it was routine—a standard procedure at a sexual health clinic. Yet, discussing your sexual history with a stranger felt strangely awkward. It was the kind of conversation you'd normally have with your best friend, someone who knew every detail of your life.

“Oh, um, probably 4 months ago.” The thought of your ex boyfriend brought a bad taste to your mouth.

“Was it oral or vaginal?”

“Both.” You said shyly.

“Both.” He murmured under his breath.

“And was the oral sex female or male receiving?”

“Male.” Unfortunately for me.

“Was this with a partner or casual?” 

“A partner- well, a former partner.”

"I'm sorry to hear that," he expressed sympathy. You shrugged, shaking your head.

"No don’t be. It's actually a blessing, more time for other important things."

"Let me guess... Playing the piano and reading?" you quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes..? How did you—"

He pointed to your purse at your on the floor. "You've got a piano keychain on your purse, plus I’d recognize 1984 anywhere. Just putting two and two together."

"You're quite observant."

"It’s what makes me a good doctor," he responded, the trace of a smile lingering on his lips before he cleared his throat and shifted his attention back to the computer.

“So that’s all the questions. I’m just going to take your height, weight and blood pressure before we proceed with the exam. If you can stand on the scale for me.” He motioned over the scale in the corner of the room. After taking your weight, he showed you where to stand to take your height.

“If I can have you here..” He gently placed his hands on either side of your arms and subtly shifted you to the correct position. Standing close, he measured your height, his baritone voice murmuring softly as he read the numbers above your head. His demeanour, a blend of professionalism and subtle warmth, left an intriguing impression on you. Stepping back, he instructed you to take a seat for the blood pressure test.

You nodded and rolled your sleeve up, exposing one of your tattoos. He rolled his chair towards you, taking your arm and wrapping the blood pressure sleeve around your bicep, his eyes flickering down to your tattoo of a treble and bass clef in the shape of a heart.

"That's a lovely tattoo," he complimented with a smile. "Any special meaning?"

“I just love music.” you chuckled. “So much so I’m doing a masters in NYU in Music Theory.” 

“Impressive.” He commented. “I take it you’re quite skilled at playing instruments.”

“Piano mostly. I could probably make it with the violin and the French horn as I grew up playing those as well.” 

“Quite a range. I have a baby grand at home, though my duties as a doctor don't afford much playing time."

"You must play well. No one just has a baby grand in their home. Maybe you’re just as skilled as I am." you teased, earning a smirk.

"Observant, aren't you?"

"You’re rubbing off on me already," you quipped, realizing right after your unintended flirtation. Fortunately, the blood pressure machine's timely interruption spared you the potential embarrassment of Doctor Strange witnessing your flushed face.

"So- Before we proceed with the examination, let me outline the tests we'll be conducting today. We'll check for STIs like gonorrhoea or chlamydia, BV and thrush, HPV, and perform a pap smear and pelvic exam," he explained.

“Okay.” you replied.

Standing, he moved to the other side of the room, drawing back a yellow curtain to reveal an examination table. A crisp white paper sheet ran down its length, with stirrups at the end for leg support.

“So you’ll need to take everything off from the waist down, lie back on the table, and position yourself at the edge," he instructed, tearing off a piece of the sheet. "Here's a covering for you while you're on the table." You nodded, and as you approached the exam table, he closed the curtain to give you some privacy during the undressing process.

"I'll be back shortly with all the necessary supplies," he assured.

"Okay," You responded, and the door closed behind him as he exited the room.

You positioned yourself by the bed, swiftly removing your pants and underwear. Folding them neatly, you placed them on the chair next to the head of the exam table, subtly concealing your underwear beneath your pants.

As you lay back on the table, draping the paper sheet over the exposed lower half of your body, the realization hit you—this was really happening. Your gaze fixated on the light fixture above, and the door creaked open.

You could hear him on the other side of the curtain, likely organizing the tools needed for the examination.

"Just locking the door to ensure privacy during the exam," he informed.

"Okay." The prospect of being alone with him in a locked room, your lower half exposed, triggered a whirlwind of thoughts. It was probably all routine for him. You’re just another patient.

"All set up. Ready for me to pull back the curtain?" he asked.

“Yes, I’m ready.” He pulled back the curtain, looking down at you as you lay before him. Your eyes met his, and this made your thighs twitch a little. He sat down at the other end, between your legs and pulled the table holding all the supplies towards him. 

"Could you shift a bit more towards the edge?"

"Um, yeah, sure." You attempted to move, struggling a bit due to the stirrups.

“I know, I’m sorry, it can be quite difficult,” he reassured, aiding you by holding the stirrups in place, and his hand subtly grazed your inner calf. Eventually, you managed to shift forward enough for him to proceed.

“Now, I’m just going to lift the table up.” He informed you. The table started to move up until you were almost at eye level with him. You laid back, hearing him putting on latex gloves on his hands.

“Before we begin the exam. I’ll be examining the outside of your vagina to make sure that everything looks okay.” You nodded, and you started to feel your face heat up as he pulled back the paper covering you, exposing your vagina to him. You let out a soft exhale as you felt his warm, gloved fingers open and move your vulva to the side. Before you could think much of it, it was over.

“Everything looks good, now for the swab tests. Again, the first test will be the STI screening test, and I’ll be inserting a swab inside your vagina. Shouldn’t hurt, but please let me know if you feel any discomfort.” 

“Sure.” You nodded. You felt a thin object slide into your vagina with ease. He twisted the swab before removing it and placing it in a test tube.

“Next will be the internal exam, I’ll use the speculum to gently widen your vagina so then I can collect a small sample.” You nodded.

“Have you had an internal exam before?”

“No.”

“Would you like to see what it looks like before I start?” You nodded, and he held up the plastic instrument. It looked quite small initially before he started to open it, showing you how it works.

“This might cause some discomfort, so please don’t hesitate to tell me to stop.”

“Okay..” You breathed, laying back down on the table. Before you knew it, you felt the cold, lubed-up plastic tool sliding into your vagina. You took a sharp breath, and your thighs started to quiver. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. Just breathe.” he spoke in a in a soothing manner. You felt a hand on your inner thigh- like that was going to help you relax any more. Your thighs trembled under his touch, all a mix of nervousness, and discomfort and just a hint of arousal as you felt his thumb lightly caressing your inner thigh. You squeezed your eyes shut, lightly gripping the hem of your shirt, trying to focus on your breathing and not so much the discomfort the speculum was causing. 

“You’re doing well.” He spoke as he inserted the small brush to collect the sample from your cervix, then inserted cotton swabs for the other tests. 

“Just one more..”

The last swab test was done, and Doctor Strange closed the speculum and slid it out of you.

“How are you feeling?” You opened your eyes and nodded.

“I’m okay.”

“Would you like to take a break before I proceed with the pelvic exam?”

“I think I’m okay.”

“This shouldn’t cause much discomfort as the speculum, but I’ll be gentle.” He quickly changed out his gloves for a new pair and squirted some lube on his fingers. He placed a hand on your lower stomach before slowly inserting two fingers into you. Oh god- 

“Tell me if this is okay…”

It was more than fucking okay. Not having sex in 3 months was going to be the death of you.

“I-it’s okay.” you stuttered. His hand started to press into your stomach as his fingers moved in a circular motion, palpating the organs within. You felt a slight pressure, but it was not painful, more like a gentle exploration.

The examination continued, Doctor Strange’s movements were precise yet gentle. As if you were an instrument, he was expertly playing. His fingers were thick and felt amazing inside you. No one- not even your stupid past boyfriends had been able to make you feel like this during sex.

The feeling was getting almost overwhelming for you, and it caused you to roll your head back into the exam table and let out a soft moan. Oh fuck.

The silence was broken, with Doctor Strange clearing his throat and withdrawing his fingers from you.

“I-I am so sorry. I- I didn’t mean to do that. God-” You quickly covered yourself with the sheet in shame. You watch as Doctor Strange removed his gloves with a loud pop from the latex before tossing them into the trash. For a moment, he was silent, as if he was trying to assess the awkward situation you had put on him.

He stood up, quickly glancing over to the locked door, before turning his head back over to you, his eyes scanning your bare legs.

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow at him, confused about what he had meant.

“You said you didn’t mean to do that- but why do I get the feeling you were..enjoying it?”

Your face burned, unable to answer his sudden questioning. You tried to deny it, although deep inside, you know his words to be true.

“The way you looked at me this whole time. The way your body has responded to my every touch. Not to mention how soaking wet you were when I put my fingers inside you. Surely you could feel your arousal dripping onto my table?”

He was now towering over you; his cold blue eyes were darkened with lust. 

“I’m sorry about the table.” You gave him an innocent look, which caused him to smirk.

“No, you’re not.”

He shed his coat, tossing it casually beside your neatly folded pants and underwear. Your eyes couldn't help but trace the contours of his arms sculpted with toned muscles, veins subtly weaving along their sides. A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed, caught in a moment of silent admiration for this god-like man standing before you.

He walked back around to the edge of the table. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him from between your legs. He looked at you before pulling the curtain close and moving the exam table down a bit. 

“I just need a taste.” He groaned, then buried his head between your legs. 

“Oh fuck-” You breathed out, feeling his mouth envelop you. You let out a shaky breath as he found your clit a moved his tongue across it, softly playing with it with the tip of his tongue. He placed each hand on either side of your thigh to hold you open and keep your hips from moving while his mouth worked on you.

“Talk to me, sweetie.” He said before pushing his tongue inside you. 

“Oh my god..” You groaned, your eyes rolling back. You physically couldn’t speak, not properly, that is.

“Tell me how good this feels.”

“It-it feels so good, Doctor-” You managed to say. He pulled his face away from you for a moment, and you looked down at him, the bottom half of his face wet with your slick- which made him even more sexy.

With his fingers, he traced your slit slowly, watching you twitch every time his finger brushed against your clit. 

“Look at you.” He licked his lips as if he was a starved man. “Look how your body responds to me. No one has ever made you like this, have they? Not even your idiot ex-boyfriend who doesn’t know how to eat cunt.” You vigorously shook your head, wanting him to stop talking and continue where he had left off. You were close, and somehow you knew that he knew that.

“Please. I need more.” You moaned.

He carefully pushed his finger into you, his eyes never leaving yours. He added another finger, watching you carefully, and he curled his fingers up to caress your g-spot. He moved his fingers back and forth in this motion, finding arousal not only from your body but your reactions.

“I can see you’re close, sweetie. Don’t hesitate. Give me a taste of your sweet nectar.”

He leaned back in and found your clit easily- sucking hard then flicking his tongue against the small sensitive bud that immediately sent you over the edge. 

You let out a choked groan, hips buckling against his face as you came and flooded his mouth with your cum.

He removed his mouth from you, and you looked down at him, seeing your arousal drip from his chin. His mouth twitched up in a small smile as he stood. He grabbed the end of his shirt to remove it in one fell swoop. 

“No- wait.” you stopped him. His eyes quickly flicked with concern.

“Um...Can you leave it on..?” He gave you a look of confusion before understanding what you were asking of him.

“Are you saying you want me to fuck you with my scrubs on?”

You nodded shyly, wanting to fulfil the fantasy of fucking a Doctor.

He hid his wide smile and shook his head in disbelief. “Ohh, you dirty girl.” He pushed the waistband of his pants down to his mid-thigh, and you watched his cock, sprang up from out of his boxers. My God was he was thick. When you thought the speculum opened you up too wide, you wondered how his cock would feel stuffed inside you.

“Is this okay?” The lust from his eyes disappeared for a moment when he asked. You reassured him with a nod. 

“All I want is you right now, Doctor.” his eyes darkened once again, and he lined the thick head of his cock at your entrance, using some of your cum as lube. He put one hand on your knee and the other on the base of his cock to steady himself as he pushed inside you. You squeezed your breast as he moved slowly, inch by inch. 

“Shit-” He breathed once he was sheathed inside of you. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breathing shallowed.

“Are you okay?” He asked once again. 

“I-I’m fine. You’re just too big.” The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he was proud of his size. Who wouldn’t be?

He rubbed your lower stomach soothingly, saying, “Just breathe, relax your core for me.” You nodded, trying to relax until the pain started to transition into pleasure.

“Okay, you can start moving now.” He nodded. He pulled his hips back a little, watching his cock inch out of you before pushing himself back into your heat. He continued this slow, shallow pace until he could move in with ease.

“Fuck-” You allowed yourself a soft moan, letting your head roll back from his thrusts.

“God, you’re so tight I might actually cum.” He stilled, moving his hands across your legs and touching your skin. 

“I don’t mind.” You winked teasingly.

“And cut all of this short? I’ll fuck you all day if I could.” Your face warmed up at the idea. He rocked his hips back and forth, holding you by your legs to pull you into him. You gripped the sides of the examination table, letting out a guttural groan with his every thrust. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this much pleasure.

“I’m so close, Doctor.”

“Stephen. Call me Stephen.” 

“Cum with me, Stephen, please.” You begged, watching him fuck you in an animalistic nature.

“Oh, Y/N-” After a couple of thrusts, you felt his cock throb inside your walls at the same time, the pressure in your stomach began to roll over. Gripping your thighs tight, he thrust into you one more time as deep as he could, letting his cock pump his cum into you.

His head fell back as his orgasm coursed through him, wave after wave, until Stephen filled you up to the brim. You felt the slick of your combined arousal leak out of you, dripping down between your ass.

He ground his hips to keep his cum from spilling out completely. He looked up from where you two met, and you reciprocated his exhausted smile. Your eyes were glassy with tears from the intense orgasm that had left your body and thighs shaking. His chest heaved deeply with each intake of breath.

Whilst still inside you, Stephen carefully moved your legs from off the stirrups, placing them down on the tabletop carefully. He got on top of you carefully to hold you for just a moment.

He lifted his head to look at you, sweaty and dishevelled. He leaned down to give you a kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips, but it didn’t matter.

“We should do this again.” You broke the silence as he pulled his softening cock out of you. You groaned softly, suddenly feeling empty.

“Oh sweetie, give me at least 10 minutes before we start again.” He laid by your side with a deep groan.

“No, I mean in general, old man.” You teased. “I want to do this again sometime.” 

“Come over for dinner tonight, and I can show you more.” his lips curled into a teasing smile.

“Like your baby grand?” He let out a deep laugh. “Only if you promise to play something for me.”

“Fuck me good, and we’ll see.”

“Oh baby, there’s no doubt about that.” He smirked, pulling you into another deep kiss again. A thought popped into your head, and you pushed him back gently.

“By the way, was everything good..you know, down there?” He responded with a light-hearted chuckle to your unexpected inquiry and gave you a kiss on your temple. 

“Yes, you're perfectly healthy.”

[daydreamtofiction]

The Feature XXII // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) The aftermath of the gala brings a shift to Ben and Quinn's relationship.

Chapter Word Count: 5.4K

Chapter Warnings: Morally-grey reader, strong language, adult and sexual themes, play fighting, smut: oral sex (giving/receiving), penetrative sex, light dominance. Readers must be 18+

A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, I would really appreciate if you considered leaving a comment. It would really mean the world to me to hear your feedback and what you think of the story so far. Thank you so much for reading! 🤍

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It had been a while since you’d seen him smoke, and you assumed it was because he’d finally managed to quit. So when you saw him heading for the back door before you’d even taken off your heels, you felt guilty. Like the stress you’d put him through had driven him to take up the habit again. 

You stood in the kitchen, elbows resting on the island as you looked down at your notes from the evening. The faint smell of cigarette smoke drifted in through the crack in the sliding glass door, but you didn’t mind it; coming to take comfort in the aroma whenever it came from him. 

You rolled the balls of your bare feet over the tiles, rising onto your tiptoes and down again in a lazy rhythm, relieving the dull ache your shoes had left behind. The notes were messy, jumbled and incoherent at points. You stood there, armed with your pen, deciphering the pages like a secret code, writing annotations in the margins and circling anything remotely salvageable. 

The door slid open and Ben stepped into the kitchen, shaking off the late night cold as he locked it behind him. He was still in his suit, the heels of his shoes clicking across the floor as he made his way towards you. You watched as he shrugged off his blazer and lay it on the edge of the island before unbuttoning his collar and loosening his tie. 

“You write like a doctor,” he said as he glanced at your notebook over your shoulder. 

You laughed softly. “It was dark in there.” 

His hand cupped the back of your neck, fingers gently pressing into knots of tension you didn’t realise were there. You sighed, closing your eyes and letting your head roll from side to side. He sensed your relief, bringing his other hand up to massage your shoulders more firmly. 

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said quietly.

“Hm?” you replied, too preoccupied with the satisfying pressure of his hands. 

“You were right, I overreacted. I got jealous and I took it out on you.” 

“It was my fault for making you jealous in the first place though…” 

“Yeah but the way I responded… It was… I don’t like how I behaved.”

“I found it quite sexy.” 

He chuckled, letting go of you and moving to lean against the island beside you. “How did I know you were going to say something like that?” 

You looked up at him with a slight smirk. 

“But really,” he continued earnestly. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to get so… possessive of you.” 

Your smile remained. 

He shook his head with a breathy laugh. “Don’t say you liked it.”

“Okay,” you said simply, turning your attention back to your notes.

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at your book. “Do you want me to answer that question now?” 

You looked back up at him. “Really?” 

“Sure.” He walked around the island towards the sink. “Go for it.” 

You flicked to a blank page, pen poised between finger and thumb. “Okay… So, do you have any thoughts on how we as a society, and as individuals, can foster the arts in ways that don’t involve funding or monetary contributions?”

He hummed in thought as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, running the hot tap and beginning to wash the small pile of dishes he’d left in the sink. “It’s hard isn’t it; the arts are so reliant on investment. Even at school level, art, drama, music, they’re viewed as luxuries, superfluous even...” 

He continued to speak, his voice so engaging, his words so eloquent and insightful. But you found yourself more focused on what he was doing; the way he looked as he stood at the sink, so relaxed, domesticated, real. You never thought you could find a man washing dishes attractive, but there was something about the scene before you that made your stomach flutter. It was the intimacy of it, the undone collar and rolled up sleeves, the comfort he felt in your presence, the beautiful mundanity of it all. 

He turned around, shaking the water off his hands and reaching for a tea towel. You glanced up, meeting his gaze and watching as a smile crept across his face. 

“You weren’t listening to a word of that, were you,” he said.

“Sorry,” you replied with a shy laugh. “Got distracted.” 

He paused for a moment as he looked at you; watching you watch him, a curious glint in his eye. “What?” 

You shook your head, reaching for your bag. “Nothing. Tell me your answer again. I’ll just record it this time.” 

“What distracted you?” he laughed. 

“Just you,” you replied. “Doing… regular things.” 

He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s nice.” You shrugged. “Makes it feel like we’re…” 

He waited for you to finish. But you didn’t. So instead he spoke for you. “A couple…?” 

“Well I don’t know. Do couples interview each other for magazines while doing the dishes?” 

He chuckled, eyes crinkling, cheeks creasing with the smile lines you loved so much. 

You picked up your pen, twirling it between your fingers for a moment before beginning to write, aimlessly scrawling the date across the top of the page, going over it multiple times until the paper began to tear. 

“Quinn,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence. 

“Mhm?” you replied without looking up.

He made his way back over to you, stopping at your side and placing a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up to him. 

“We are sort of a couple,” he said, like he was breaking bad news to you. Yet there was a slight amusement in his tone, finding humour in your sudden unease.

You licked your lips, pressing them together firmly as you gazed up at him. “How do you figure?” 

He breathed out a laugh. “Because what’s the phrase? If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck.” 

“Are you saying I waddle when I walk?” 

He laughed again, more heartily this time, the sound rumbling in the base of his throat. “You know full well that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying this…” He gestured between you. “Coming home together at the end of a night out, fighting in the car, making up in the kitchen, knowing how you like your coffee, what days you have off work, what side of the bed you prefer to sleep on… There’s only one person I have that with, and I hate to break it to you, but it’s you.” 

You rolled your eyes at the hint of sarcasm in his tone, how he whispered the last few words. But you couldn’t help the slight smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. 

“And honestly,” he continued, tilting his head to catch your gaze again. “There’s no one else I want to have that with.” 

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for a moment before shaking your head, a rare fleck of vulnerability in your voice. “Why me?”

He shifted closer, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear with his fingers. You felt your heartbeat quicken in response; the softness of his touch and sudden sincerity in his expression flooding you with a sense of anticipation. 

He swallowed. “Because… I love-”

“Don’t you dare.”

He breathed out a laugh. “Wh-”

You held up your finger to silence him, taking a step back like an animal preparing to scarper.

“Quinn,” he chuckled.

“Ben.” 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”  

You made your way slowly around the kitchen, putting the island between you like a barrier. He raised his brow with a laugh, shaking his head at you. 

“Okay,” he finally said, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay fine. I won’t say it.” 

You glared at him, watching as he let out a quiet sigh of defeat, though his eyes sparkled with humour as you continued to shuffle around the island. He took a small step in your direction, arms still raised. But you knew better than to trust it; the smirk on his face giving him away. 

“Then why are you coming closer?” you replied.

“God, you really know how to make a man feel wanted,” he said sarcastically, continuing to move towards you with slow, fluid steps.

“I just don’t want you to say anything you’ll regret.” 

“Mm.” He stilled for a moment, pretending to ponder, before darting around the counter. 

You yelped in surprise and turned to run away, but he was too swift, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back against him.

“Fucking hell you’re fast,” you laughed breathlessly.

He leaned down, bringing his lips close to your ear. “I always get what I want.” 

You squirmed in his arms and he tightened his grip, just enough to still you. You let your head fall back against his chest in defeat, blowing out an exaggerated huff. His laugh was deep and warm beside your ear as he slid his hands down to rest on your hips, sending a sudden nervous thrill to your core. Then he turned you around, bringing his hands up to cup your face, thumbs tracing soft circles over your cheeks as he leaned down to kiss you.

You welcomed it eagerly, sliding your arms around his waist and gripping the material of his shirt in your fists to pull him flush against you. His mouth moved over yours slowly, deeply, the pressure of his kiss flooding you with a warmth that made every touch feel like fire, every breath like steam as it escaped between your parted lips. But you could feel him holding back, as though he was testing each movement, waiting for a sign to let go.

He pulled back, breathing heavily as his forehead rested against yours, the same look of admiration on his flushed face. 

“Don’t say it,” you whispered, emphasising each word.

He exhaled a long, slow huff through his nose, the slightest smirk at the corner of his mouth. His hands drifted down from your face, fingers tracing lightly over your neck, along your shoulders and down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

“Alright then, I won’t say it,” he murmured, his voice deep and hoarse. Then he paused, drawing out the silence between you until it was almost unbearable. “What I will say is that I think we should go upstairs…”

You felt a ripple of excitement in your stomach, his tone laced with a hunger that made it impossible to misinterpret. He stepped back and took your hand in his, watching you, waiting for you to respond, his thumb idly grazing over your knuckles. 

“Unless you’re too tired?” he added, tilting his head slightly. 

You swallowed, the tension between you so heavy that the only response you could muster was a shake of your head. 

He smiled, gently tugging you towards him, sending a sudden wave of nerves to the pit of your stomach. Your heartbeat quickened as he led you upstairs, as though you’d forgotten what this part felt like; how exciting yet terrifying it could be. Thrilling and intimidating, all at once. 

He kept his hands on you the entire time, refusing to break the connection, even as he opened and closed the bedroom door. You kissed him eagerly as he walked you backwards to the bed, his lips warm and firm against yours, fingers digging into your waist to keep you close. 

Your hands moved up his arms and over his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles under the fabric of his shirt. It made you hesitate for a moment, trying to speak against his lips.

“Are y- sure- about this?” The words came out broken and breathless, punctuated by his continuous, fervent kisses.

“Certain,” he whispered impatiently, falling with you onto the bed, the weight of his body sinking you into the mattress. 

He slid a hand to your neck, his thumb pressing against the base of your throat as he continued to kiss you. You moaned as the pressure stifled your breath, making you buck your hips in a desperate search for friction. 

A groan escaped him, but instead of holding back like you’d come to expect, he gave in to it; parting your legs with his thighs and settling between them, allowing you to grind against the erection straining beneath his trousers.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been to resist you,” he mumbled, traipsing kisses from your cheek to your jaw. 

“So what’s changed now?” you replied, voice barely audible over the sound of your heavy breaths. 

His lips moved from your jaw to your ear. “Now we’re a couple.” 

You let out a soft laugh. “I never actually agreed to that…” 

“I’m sure I’ll have you agreeing soon.”

He took his time, fingers gently caressing your body over the material of your dress. His movements were slow, lingering, deliberate and unhurried as he traced the outline of your curves, letting each touch build and settle before moving onto the next.

You reached up to unbutton his shirt as he unravelled his tie, whipping it from around his neck and throwing it to the ground. You pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, hands moving to roam his bare chest as he shrugged it off completely. 

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t seen him shirtless over the last four months; you were all too familiar with the feeling of his chest beneath your palms, how your fingers moved over the dips and rivets of his torso. But tonight it felt different, somehow, like your touch was charged. You could feel his heartbeat through his chest, the flex of his muscles with even the slightest movement. 

He was softer than when you’d first met, no strict movie routine keeping him lean and toned. But that softness made you want him even more; his body a testimony of the comfort and security he felt with you. There was still a firmness to him, his frame a perfect mixture of hard and yielding; thick arms and a broad chest that caged you beneath him, soft stomach that moulded to your body as he held you close. 

You both knew you liked it when he took control. And he liked it too; his generosity and commitment to your pleasure so allconsuming that he would gladly lose himself in it completely. You knew the moment he delved beneath your dress, it would be almost impossible to pull him back, to make him pause long enough for you to indulge in him. You wanted to show him what he’d missed, make him feel how much you’d yearned for this intimacy. 

And so you pushed gently on his chest, silently instructing him to sit up. His brows came together in a moment of confusion, but he didn’t resist, allowing you to direct him until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. You dropped to your knees in front of him, hands working to unbutton his trousers. He shifted, helping you slip them down, freeing him from his underwear and giving a quiet sigh of relief. 

You wrapped a hand around his cock, glancing up to see his face tense with anticipation. It didn’t seem to matter how light your touch was, how slow or vigorous you stroked, it all had the same effect; turning his breath shallow, the angles of his face sharp in the dim light. Licking your lips, you brushed the stray pieces of hair out of your face, before leaning forward and finally taking him in your mouth. 

His eyes rolled, head falling back in bliss as he let out a deep, gratified groan. You’d missed those sounds; always delighting in his willingness to make noise, and longing for it in your abstinence. You worked your mouth over him, lips and tongue drawing the most delicious sounds from the base of his chest, and whenever your hair fell back into your face, you would brush it away quickly, trying to keep a steady rhythm as your hand and mouth moved together along the length of his cock. 

The next time your hair fell, he noticed before you could fix it, gathering the loose strands in his fists and holding them back for you. His grip tightened as he began to guide your head, but he remained gentle, reserved, letting you stay in control. The feeling of his fingers tangled in your hair made you ache for the power you knew he was capable of, desire pooling between your legs as he silently directed you, swearing under his breath and gazing down at you in awe. 

His composure waned, just for a moment, hips thrusting his full length to the back of your throat. You choked slightly and he gave a low growl in response, his voice resonating deep in your core. And though you hadn’t planned to stop, you didn’t protest when he drew back, pulling you up into a deep, ravenous kiss.

Your body hummed with desire, skin tingling, stomach coiling as he guided you to straddle his lap. His hands slid up your thighs beneath your dress, fingers digging into the flesh of your backside with a firm, eager pressure. You shifted your weight, grinding against his bare erection, but the barrier of your underwear stifled the friction, leaving you hot and frustrated,forced to bear down harder in a desperate search for relief. 

He continued to kiss you as his fingers reached for the zip of your dress. You felt it coming undone slowly, the smooth journey from the back of your neck to the base of your spine making you shiver in anticipation. The material loosened and you slipped it off your shoulders, letting it fall down your arms and pool at your waist. He moved his lips to the newly exposed skin of your chest, planting hot kisses along your collarbones as he quickly unclasped your bra and tossed it to the ground. 

He took a moment to take in the sight of you, your soft, untouched breasts like a delicacy he’d been craving but never let himself indulge in. You let out a quiet hiss when he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking on it roughly as he massaged your other breast with a firm hand. You couldn’t help but arch into him, fingers digging into his shoulders as you surrendered to the delicious ache, the arousal pooling between your legs. 

You moaned as he moved between each breast; biting, licking, sucking, kissing, leaving no inch of you unmarred, no sensation unexplored. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pressing crescents into his skin, each sharp indentation drawing a growl from his throat, only spurring his fervour. 

He rose to his feet, lifting you with him and turning around to lay you on the bed. You dragged your dress down and kicked it away, your eyes never breaking contact with him as he shed the last of his clothes and returned to you quickly. His hands caressed your bare body as you lay beneath him, his lips chasing every light, gentle stroke with a kiss. 

He let out a slow, heavy breath as he ran his fingers over your underwear, the extent of your desire clear in the soaking wet cotton between your legs. You shivered when you felt him press his mouth to it, dragging his tongue along the outline of your pussy, like a hot, torturous promise of pleasure.

You whimpered softly, hips rocking, pushing yourself against his mouth with desperation.

“Please,” you whispered. 

He didn’t tease, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and peeling it from you quickly. You watched as he seemed to admire your body, hands gliding over the most intimate parts of you in unashamed worship. 

“Mine,” he muttered as he began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. 

There was no space in this moment for you to deny his claim; no quip or sarcastic remark worthy of disrupting the intimacy between you. So instead you stayed quiet, letting him speak the word into your skin as he made his way to your centre. Your back arched when you felt his thumb along the seam of your pussy, the wet slick making it easy for him to glide through, every brush over your clit sending a jolt to your core. 

His eyes were on you, watching your every reaction as he played with his speed, adjusting the pressure and rhythm of his touch until he found the spot that made you gasp. He pressed the pad of his thumb to your clit and began to massage it firmly, nipping his teeth at the inside of your thigh as you squirmed beneath him. 

“I want you to tell me when you’re close,” he said, his tone dark and commanding. 

You didn’t answer, too busy writhing against his touch to speak. 

His thumb stilled as he stared up at you, waiting for a response.

You gasped at the sudden loss of stimulation, forcing yourself to look down at him. “Yes,” you said breathlessly. “Yes, I’ll tell you.” 

He seemed satisfied, returning to circling your clit with his thumb as he began stroking himself with his other hand. You propped yourself up slightly on your elbows, watching him, taking pleasure in the way he looked as he touched himself, aroused by the mere sight of you spread beneath him. 

He leaned down, his tongue making contact with your pussy for the first time, dragging through your folds as he let a satisfied hum vibrate against you. He drew your clit into his mouth, sucking on it gently and sending a deep shudder up your spine. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, the word coming out broken and breathless.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his mouth with a heavy moan. He seemed to like it, burying his face deeper between your legs as he began to devour you, eating you out like he’d missed it, craved it. 

You let your head fall back, eyes closing as you lost yourself in the feeling of his sweeping tongue and puckered lips, the way he swirled and sucked, flicked and dragged with expert precision. Your hands searched for something to anchor you; his hair, his shoulders, the duvet, even your own chest, your body rolling and shivering under his tireless rhythm. 

You’d never forgotten the first time he did this; how mind blowing it had been, how he’d left you shaking, mewling, crying out as you came. And it never stopped surprising you, every time afterwards, the depths of pleasure his mouth was capable of. But even still, this time somehow surpassed it all. 

You felt the familiar heat beginning to build, the trembling in your legs, the tightening in your muscles. 

“I’m close,” you forced yourself to speak. “Fuck, I’m so close.” 

He didn’t relent, but you could feel him adjusting his pace, softening the pressure of his ministrations just enough to keep you hanging on the edge, but careful to not push you over. 

You whimpered, rolling your hips in a desperate search for release. But he was too controlled.

“Oh god, Ben please- Please don’t tease me, I can’t-”

 He pulled his head back, returning his thumb to rub lazy circles over your clit. “Ssh, I’m not teasing,” he said softly. “I’m going to let you come. I just want to be inside you when you do.” 

A wave of electricity coursed through you, his words alone almost unravelling you completely. He dipped his head down, granting himself a final taste of you before pulling back again. You watched as he let a string of saliva fall carefully from his pursed lips, dripping down over the entrance of your aching pussy. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, falling back against the mattress, unsure if you’d ever witnessed a more arousing sight.

He crawled up your body, positioning himself between your legs as he kissed your neck with an unexpected tenderness. You felt him reach down to line the head of his cock with your entrance, gliding it through the slick of saliva he’d left there before finally pushing into you. 

The feeling of the first slide was still as breathtaking as you remembered; the fullness, the stretch, the pressure deep in your pelvis. He felt bigger than you remembered, or maybe you’d just gotten used to the size of your vibrator. But still, he sank into you with ease, your wetness drawing him in like he belonged there, making you gasp and reach out to grip his arms.

He groaned as he buried his entire length inside you, the sound a warm blend of rapture and relief. His voice was orgasmic as it poured into your ear, so delicious you were sure you could climax from the sound of it alone. 

You bent your knees back, hooking your arms around the backs of his shoulders as he began to move. His thrusts were deep and steady, making you feel so full you thought he might break you. He turned his head to kiss you, adjusting his position slightly to reach your lips with more ease. 

The shift in angle grazed your g-spot, stealing the breath from your lungs, your mouth falling open against his in shock.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, hands reaching for his backside to keep him exactly where you needed. “Keep doing that.”

“Fuck,” he growled as you tightened around him. 

He dropped his forehead to the crook of your neck and you clung to him as he moved, hips drawing back and snapping forward repeatedly, staying right where you wanted him. 

Something came over you; a sudden, overwhelming urge to give yourself to him. All of you, every thought, every cell, every word. You cupped his face, guiding him to look at you. 

“I am yours,” you said between soft moans. “I am.” 

He let out a heavy sigh, his control faltering for a moment as he looked down at you. He pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you as his thrusts grew harder, more intense, staying at the angle that sent ripples of pleasure through your belly. Your eyelids fluttered as the sensation grew stronger, a climax rising from your core like a wave until it overflowed, crashing through you before you even realised it was coming. 

He continued to move, watching your face in awe as you came apart beneath him, drawing it out of you with long, firm strokes. Your legs shook, your bottom lip quivering as your walls tightened, your core throbbing with the echoes of your orgasm. 

His pace slowed, the atmosphere between you shifting into something softer, more intimate, as though your bodies had transcended sex, melting into one another in a symbiotic, otherworldly connection. He kissed you tenderly as he rocked his hips, moaning quietly into your mouth as your hands curled around the back of his neck. And when he looked into your eyes again, his gaze held a depth that you couldn’t ignore. 

You shook your head, gently pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t say it.” 

He breathed out a soft laugh, gripping your wrist and kissing the side of your hand.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, urging him to get up. He moved you both smoothly, sitting up and pulling you to straddle his lap. You reached down, guiding him back inside you and sinking down on it, luxuriating in the groan that escaped him. 

He felt different in this position - even bigger, somehow - the head of his cock kissing the very depths of you, almost taking your breath away. His hands found your hips, rocking you gently back and forth to control your speed. You held him close, arms draped over his shoulders as you kissed him passionately. 

“I missed this,” you whispered. 

He shivered slightly beneath you, and you could sense his composure slipping as he held you tighter, his forehead resting against yours.

“Don’t ever hold back from me again,” you added. 

“I’m not sure I could if I wanted to,” he replied, breathing heavily. 

You rocked forward, his cock sending a shockwave through your sensitive core. A moan fell from your open mouth, eyes closing tightly. He noticed your reaction, brushing your hair away from your face. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice quiet and breathless. “I can take it,” you added with a slight smirk, rolling your hips with an intentional roughness that elicited a deep growl in his chest. 

His eyes glimmered with something hungrier, more primal, his body moving to meet the rhythm of your hips. He trailed a hand up to your neck as he kissed you, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of your throat as he added more power to his thrusts, taking back the control. 

You tore your lips from him, head falling back in utter bliss as you placed your hands over his, holding onto him as he bracketed your throat, fucking you hard as he sat beneath you. You choked out a moan, your insides coiling, pelvis flooding with hot, tingling pressure. 

You felt yourself falling onto your back, and he moved with you, resting his elbows either side of your head as he continued the intense, forceful snap of his hips. He lay kisses along your neck, your jaw, before you felt his breath hot against your ear. 

“Tell me again that you’re mine,” he said, his voice almost a growl. 

You clutched at his back, nails dragging scratches down his soft, smooth skin. “I’m yours.” 

The words seemed to push him over the edge, his rhythm quickening until another orgasm tore through you. He groaned as you tensed around him, willing himself to hold on, to coax every last drop of pleasure from you before allowing himself to falter. It was only when your limbs turned heavy, your breaths coming in short, gasping whimpers, that he finally let himself go, sinking his full length into you with a moan and filling you with his own release. 

You clung to him. His back was hot, coated in a layer of sweat and veins of scratches from your nails. He lay panting in your arms, face buried in the crook of your neck as he let his full weight drape over your body. You liked the heaviness of him, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against yours, the span of his arms as they curved either side of your head.

The room settled into a comfortable silence, your breaths slowly returning to normal, the cloud of lust dissipating, making room for clarity. He shifted to pull out of you but you tightened your hold on him, keeping him in place between your legs. 

“No not yet,” you muttered. “Just stay here for a minute.” 

 He chuckled, yielding to you and relaxing back down. But after a moment, he moved again. 

“I’m getting cramp in my leg,” he grumbled.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and released your hold on him, letting him pull out of you carefully and sit at your feet. You sat up slightly, watching as he stretched his leg, wincing as he massaged his calf. 

He breathed out a sigh when the pain subsided, looking at you with an almost shy smile. His face was flushed, you could tell even in the dim light of the room, making it hard to connect this version of him to the one who’d left you feeling so sore and spent just minutes ago. 

He crawled over to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder before flopping down beside you. You giggled and lay down next to him, nestling against his side as he wrapped an arm around you. 

“So, that had nothing to do with seeing another guy try it on with me tonight?” you teased. 

“Nothing at all,” he replied with a smirk.

You laughed sleepily, letting your heavy lids settle closed, listening to the sound of his breaths as he played with a loose tendril of your hair. You felt so content, so deeply at ease that even your mind couldn’t bring itself to form a thought. 

Neither of you had spoken in a while. His body so still you assumed he’d dozed off. So when you heard him suck in a breath, preparing to speak, the sound almost startled you. 

“I am so in love with you,” he said.  

It cut through the silence like a blade, his voice so clear and certain that there was no mistaking what he’d said, or if he’d meant to say it. Your eyes sprung open, your head whipping up to look at him in disbelief.

*Tag List: @blondekel77 @evelynrosestuff @bakerstreethound @annesthaeticc @aephereal @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sherlux @veryladyqueen @graciebear47 @allurenia @jamerlynn @cottagecore-cat @aysamuka @thegardenerofeden @cumbercatchmebaby @inspirationalandrandom @turkisherlockian @swds @weepingdreamerpanda @elzabethann @childofgod215 @briecantopme @lovecleastrange @jaspearl31 @paola-carter @greatburger @azu21 @xourownsidee @hunterofshadows04 @asgardianprincess1050 @teddycrimson @sherlocksgirl91 @oliveoilthoughts @hai-kbai @shjl15 @bloodyxsaint @charleighsblog @stephenstrangeaddictions @omgstarks @sleutherclaw @bisciwri @theevilsupreme @druggedbyfiction @gwoods123 @classickook @coffee-d0t @strangeobsessed @januarycolor @strangeions @lonadane @downtownshabby @diabaroxa @stllbrln @thealleydog @cakesandtom @irisbutterfly @coffeebeing @lexlexigogh @mun7on @svntnpldis @belan-the-dilf-hunter @blxckdragonfly @detective-sherlocked @xdelulu @nicoletk @filmlock @bensherstrange @midnightramyeoncravings @coldnique @dearwatson @scailedandisolated @aphroditesdilemma @bergararyans @txylorrvelasco @classicrebound @hthrevr @happybunnyclumsyduck @c00letha @j3mj3rrica @ironstrange1991 @vi0letdaze @theothersideofthescreen @alessandra-cumberbatch @indiefilmfatale

[annesthaeticc]

lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

| 'because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing...' What Sherlock and Y/N had was beautiful, but it crashed and burned.

A/N okay bear with me it's short, but hey it's something, right? testing the waters asi hopefully hopefully come back into writing. let me know what you think!

————————————————————————————————

“Such a small world,” you quietly said and watched as the air escaped your lungs, echoing your words. The party inside was loud, but not loud enough for the silence outside was piercing yet calming. And so, he heard you. Slowly, he turned to see who spoke and found your silhouette, your shape outlined amongst the trees and the pillars.

Slowly, he walked towards you. Yet another mistake he was about to make. For all the choices he made that involved you, it led to one.

One. Big. Mistake.

Sherlock heard his heart thudding. Crashing and breaking in every step he made towards you. You sat there frozen, your eyes unblinking, or at least trying not to blink for you feared that if you do so, he might disappear.

Just like he did back then.

Sherlock sometimes wished he never pursued you, but here he was, about to do the very same thing. He never learned.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, his very perfect presence now crowding over you. His shadow embraced you and your eyes finally blinked only to find he was still there, standing in front of you.

He was taller. His face is more defined. His curls, curled to perfection. His perfume was the same, or is it? His lips fuller, more inviting than ever.

Sherlock noticed this, and cannot help himself but do the very same. You were perfect in every shape and form, as the day he met you. He committed crimes before, but his favorite might be the one he is about to make; to kiss you.

Silence passed by the small distance between you and him and it was almost deafening. You were waiting for him to say something. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I left you…” And he was doing just the same, waiting for the words like “I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you…”

“Best man leaving early?” you finally said, shyly asking. He nodded and looked away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cutting you off before you could even say anything.

“I was invited, well not just me really, Ian and I were…” your voice trailed off as your husband's name left your lips. Again, he nodded.

Ah yes, Ian. Sherlock knew more than you. He is decent enough, this Sherlock could guarantee. But not decent enough to leave you on your own for days, even weeks or months on end while he was traveling the world on some sort of opera tour. Sherlock didn't care enough to dig for more details.

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

And this resonated through the walls of the second floor of 221B Baker Street for months. Your wedding invitation sent for him lay hopeless on his desk, waiting to be written on to confirm his invitation. He was about to decline after finally making a decision that went on for weeks, only to find out it was pointless to respond because your wedding was already done.

And so, he threw the invitation in the fire. He watched as the intricate paper got swallowed by the flames, melting into ashes, into nothing. He was mesmerized by it. How something could be nothing because of the burning flames.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw your hand, holding a packet of cigarettes. You were offering him one and Sherlock accepted. You sat down again on the bench and he followed, allowing a few inches between you.

Quietly, the two of you smoked. Avoiding glancing or talking. You were caught up in a trance and were shaken out of it when you felt movement. Sherlock stood up and stepped on the cigarette. His shoe dug into the grass as the last of the embers glowed.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

“No thank you. I’ll catch a cab.” he replied, slowly walking away.

“Sherlock, wait, please—” you caught up with him and offered to drive him once more. He declined and you almost gave up.

His figure faded into the darkness when you cried out, “Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

Tears flooded your eyes and you couldn't help. It fell from your eyes, flowing down your face. Everything was blurry and you felt your hands shaking from the nicotine and from the adrenaline of your apology.

“It's been 12 years, Y/N,” he replied. “Why are you saying sorry now?”

“Because…”

“You will not tempt me to play one of your games, Y/N. Not this time. Not ever again.”

“Sherlock, please,”

“I'm sorry? Is that all you could think? You left me, Y/N,” he cried. And now you see his face. Anger, despair, and longing painted his face,

“You left me first!” you accused him. He really did.

“And yet you couldn't wait for me, couldn't you? All the promises I made—”

“Were gone as soon as you disappeared, Sherlock.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” he said, his voice booming.

“Sherlock,” you breathlessly begged. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock heard you, and saw your eyes. He hated you for marrying someone else, but what he hated most is seeing you cry. He pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed your face, wiping away the tears. He pulled you into his embrace, just like he did back then. When your cries died down, he pulled away then planted a kiss on your temple.

“We would never work out. You're happier with him.” Sherlock said.

“I realized that what he had, was all that it was. Nothing more, nothing less. We burned too fast until we became nothing, Y/N.” he continued.

“I loved you,” you whispered.

“And I did too. So much.” he said, his voice breaking.

————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ——

TAGLIST:

@migurin @damiensoda @inas-thing @peachywoong @ruevz @sammiisnthere @srapalestina @winchestersgirl222 @taramaria @alexag-barnes @sleutherclaw @will0wfairy @vexedvalerie @lovecleastrange @evelynrosestuff @azu21 @getlostsquidward @bubu890 @strangefilms @ice-ksk @my-beel @doctorswitch @tuitiononlivings @windchaser1990 @swds @andrewgarfieldsloml @spencerreidslittleslut @sherlockstrangewolf @littlebadariell @whosgwyneth @cumberbitch @lostfleurs @strangeobsessed @slvtforstr4nge @jyessaminereads @dancerpanda04 @stephenstrangeaddictions @starryeddie @cemak @valoa3s @paola-carter @runningnannie @siredlust @stupidthoughtsinwriting

[geeky-politics-46]

Am I getting the urge to write a last-minute Valentine's story for our OG Stephen? Yes. Yes I am.

Or should i do it for Sinister Strange?