#henry!sherlock x black!reader

[shotgunbunny]

═๑♡𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬♡๑═

WC:4.7k+ GIF by gay-bucky-barnes

dark!Sherlock X reader

{warnings: NONCON/DUBCON!! reader is sold!! mentions of prostitution in Victorian era!! misogyny!! age gap!! blood but not a lot at all!! dirty talk!! virginity loss!! breeding kink!! insane Sherlock!! murder!! like this is dark baby!! manipulation!! brainwashing?/Stockholm syndrome!! kind of a sugar daddy?!! dacryophillia!! spitting!! }

Sherlock was accustomed to lady company quite often but the problem was the fact he didn't get satisfaction from any of the the ladies. After every intimate moment he shared, a numbness settled over him faster than he expected and he would lay there miserable all while his company was perfectly satisfied.

Sherlock heaved a sigh over his problem. He didn't want to be detached from his emotions during sex anymore. He craved to be wrapped up in pure bliss with the overwhelming feelings of love too. And that was apparently too hard for the detective to find. So he had decided to take on this problem like a case.

He stood at his desk staring down at the chart of paper. He needed someone who would fit his type perfectly, and even he didn't know what it was. He grunted frustrated over this. That didn't help him get any closer. By the time he had decided to just look at a local whorehouse, convinced that there would be a lady there who would help him due to their experience, night had fallen over the London streets.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and left his cane behind, trying his hardest not to be noticed by any that would recognise him. He headed down to the pleasure house that is simply known as 'THE PINK STRAWBERRY.' Apparently there, all the women smelt and tasted of strawberries and Sherlock was positively excited to see if this was true. He entered the establishment, allowing his eyes to drag along the men that were sat in the velvet chairs.

He headed to the desk where a man dressed in a dark 3 piece sat. He looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "What can I get ya' sir?" He spoke nasily and it made Sherlock irritated yet he hid it, determined to solve his issue. "Do you have anything new? Any new deals? Anything intriguing?" The man looked around before looking Sherlock up and down. "You ain't a pig are ya'?" He whispered the question and Sherlock leaned forward, "I am not." Technically not a lie, he was a detective not a police officer after all.

"Good then. I got a new deal indeed. A new girl just came in. Innocent as can be. Naive and dumb, perfect for molding. You can have her for the night. Or you can have her forever at the right price." Sherlocks interest peaked as he thought about the offer. The molding part definitely appealed to him. Don't get Sherlock wrong he was glad that feminism was making a move into society, but he needed a submissive wife. He had worked hard and supported enough so he deserved a reward.

"I'd have to meet her." The man stared at Sherlock suspiciously before he heaved out a sigh and slid a key to him. "You get five minutes. And then it's decision time. Got it?" The man stated it all firmly all while staring Sherlock down. "Understood sir." With the agreement made the man directed Sherlock to the room where this new woman was.

He unlocked the door feeling his palms slightly sweaty from nerves and excitement over the prospect that there might be someone by his side soon. He kept his eyes on the floor as he entered the room and then turned to close the door, preparing himself to see you. He turned and his breath was instantly knocked out of his chest.

You sat in the messy silk sheets. Clad in a white nightgown that was short on you and only just hid your lady parts. The sexy lingerie pushed your breasts together perfectly and you looked like an angel. Your hair framed your face perfectly and your big doe eyes stared up at him questioningly. Scared even. He scanned the rest of you, your lips were big and plush, your skin looked soft and your legs looked positively sexy to him.

Sherlock moved to the bed and sat in front of you, cooing as you slowly moved away from him, cautious of the strange man. "Do not worry angel. I am not here to hurt you. I wish to get to know you. My name is Sherlock, what is yours my darling?" You continued to stare up at him with those big eyes, mesmerising him. You whispered your name to him, your voice a melody to his ears. He repeated your name, feeling his heart flutter over how he pronounced every syllable of your name and how it would perfectly match up with his last name.

You stared at the hulking form of the man that sat on the edge of your bed. He was handsome yet he intimidated you. His eyes were a beautiful cold stormy blue, yet the way they observed you made you uneasy. It was like he knew everything about you just from a glance. His dark brown locks looked so soft and you couldn't help be drawn into the contrast of how he looked both hard and soft at the safe time. His broad shoulders and muscular arms that were tight against his suit had you squirming over how he looked almost godly. He was a specimen of a man, but you knew he was here for something you had tried to save. Your virginity.

"Is it okay if I call you angel?" He asked gently soothing you to a degree and you nodded your head at him. Still keeping your eyes on him. "You know angel, I was given an offer to buy you. I can get you out of this place and keep you safe and warm. All you'd have to do is be my wife. I can assure you there are no bad intentions behind this. I simply wish for a pretty girls company." His voice was soft the whole time and he allowed himself to reach out and hold your small soft hand in his large one. Embracing the size difference between the two of you and how he would have to go easy on you.

"I-I wanna get out of here. But I don't even know you sir. How can I trust you?" Your curious gaze lingered on him and he smiled softly bringing your hand to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "You just have to trust me angel. You can ask me anything you want and I shall answer." You examined him and his soft demeanour trying to conclude if it was fake or real.

"O-okay. Why do you want a wife sir? You're already h-handsome enough. I am confused as to why you've come to a whorehouse to find a wife. It's almost ironic." Sherlock chuckled at your mumbles. "I need someone pliable to my needs. I've struggled with connecting my emotions to sexual activities so I'm seeking an emotional bond first. A whorehouse is where women are used to finding a man's pleasure, I believed they helped me. And indeed they have, they've brought me to you."

You blushed at his words, yet you remained confused over them. You had no idea what to expect from the hulking man and if you rushed into a relationship with him, you were scared of where you'd end up.

"Can I confess something Mr. Sherlock?" He resumed his soft smile allowed his gaze to soften too. "Ofcourse angel, anything to keep hearing your heavenly voice." You blushed at him before bringing your gaze to his, allowing your eye contact to hypnotise him. "How do I know you won't hurt me?" Sherlock got off the bed before he kneeled down with his hand on his heart staring up at you in the bed from his bowing position and spoke confidently. "I promise you, I would never raise my fist at a woman and I would most certainly never even dream of hurting you angel." You smiled finally and nodded at him.

He stood up and resumed his place on the bed, allowing his final few minutes of getting to know you be filled with you shy mumbles of what you liked and who you are. A knock on the door startled you and he placed a large hand on your leg comforting you. The door then opened revealing the man from the front of the house.

He started displeased of Sherlocks hand on you thigh and spoke loudly and confidently. "So, do we have a deal?" Sherlock turned his head to look at you and you stared at him. You saw his eyes scanning your reaction and you looked away with a blush, not wanting to give away the fact that you were hopeful to be leaving here and even excited to become a wife. Sherlock grinned at your shyness. "Yes we do have a deal." And with that Sherlock threw a bag stuffed with coins and notes at the man making him gasp at the amount inside.

Sherlock turned to you, and grinned making you smile too. "Come angel, let's go home."

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Adjusting to life with the detective was a hard one, a terrifying one. You never really agreed to be with Sherlock, you felt like a cattle being sold off to the next consumer where you would eventually be slaughtered and devoured. You were forever grateful to God above for saving you from marrying Sherlock as he had no time at the moment or the coming moments to take your hand.

He had often argued with himself over it and you stood looking at him. You remember when you came into his office and saw him staring at his chalk board filled with writing and conclusions and you heard his frustrated mumbles clearly. "Stupid fucking pricks. I will marry her, she will be mine and that'll show them. I'll make sure she's fucking filled with my kids, so that then you can't deny letting me marry her. And I'll ofcourse get kids. What a perfect scenario." You gulped and tiptoed away terrified.

You were often alone at Baker Street, staring longingly out of the window trying to figure a way out of this hell hole. Yes Sherlock never raise his hand at you but his insults were vile and left you heartbroken and self conscious. He often reprimanded you for ending up in the whorehouse rather than waiting for him, and when you went to respond about your father selling you he would cut you off with a glare filled with a darkness that filled your stomach with dread.

Because of the long periods of time being locked up in his house, you had become accustomed to the lay out and began to hatch out a plan of escape. You had to plan it carefully making sure that the detective didn't suspect and that you were 2 steps ahead of him. You mapped out the floorboards and the windows, even single structure of the place and began planning any route that would lead you to the streets where you would bolt and never look back.

After you had planned four pathways perfectly so that even the mighty Sherlock Holmes wouldn't even suspect, earth shattering news was given to you. You see while you thought you were cautious and cunning, you were actually sloppy. Sherlock noticed every move you made, he overlooked your plans while you slept and chuckled at how silly they were. From going under the floor boards to jumping out the window.

He knew he had to find a way to discourage this, afterall he had spent money on you and was promised a moldable doll that would fulfill his needs. And don't get him wrong, he was most definitely attached to you emotionally. Everything you did drove him crazier in love with you. From something as simple as you gentle morning breathing when you were at peace to your more fiery moods when you were planning an escape erratically. He loved your passion, your gentleness and your ever growing desires to escape.

See he also had a plan too which would boost his love for you and unite you both. Yet first he had to discourage you, crush you. And he did this by killing your parents, making sure it ended up in the newspaper where he then gave it to you. He watched with sadistic pleasure as your eyes filled with tears over their deaths. Yet he did not predict you throwing yourself into his arms and sobbing.

You longed for some form of comfort, even if it was with the man that held you prisoner. His arms were warm and for a small second that bled into a week, you felt safe. You felt comforted grieving in his arms, he promised to take care of you and he had. He was. "My Angel, you know that I adore you. I will keep you safe forever, you just have to stop fighting. Let yourself fall into being Mrs. Holmes and I'll promise you whole the world." He whispered gently into the crown of your hair, you hummed, your throat aching from crying so loudly.

And after hearing his words of adoration, you let yourself sink into him. Into his love and his comfy and soon he began surprising you. He brought you home beautiful dresses, jewelry. Anything you wished for he would bring to you. It was then that Sherlock realised the key to your heart was through money and beautiful things, so he decided to spoil you in hopes to catch you when you fell deeply in love with him.

He remembers the time he got you to wear your potential wedding dress. A long white dress covered in lace with long arms. You walked out shyly and coughed quietly. Sherlock turned and his mouth opened slightly, his eyes widened slightly and a blush coated his cheeks. With quick firm steps, he headed towards you and placed his large hands on your waist. You looked down meekly, mumbling, "What do you think?" Sherlock brought his hand up to your chin, tilting your head up to look into his eyes. He flashed you a charming smile before he gently spoke with passion and love swirling around his eyes. "You look perfect angel. Truly sent from heaven."

All too soon you found yourself surrounded by gold and rubies, and as beautiful as they shined, but it only helped prolonged the aching in your heart. The need to run free and choose your own fate began to rise up in your blood again and you began devising your escape again. And Sherlock caught on immediately feeling his heart ache that his gifts weren't enough to satisfy you. But it was no matter, you would be thankful soon, you would worship him for the gifts he bought you.

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Tonight was the night that you escaped. You were ready, Sherlock had told you he would be working late and you faked a pout and spoke gently, "I hope you hurry home soon, I get lonely with you honey." To which he placed a kiss on your forehead and then on your lips before rubbing your noses together and replied in his soft gruff voice, "Don't worry angel, I'll be with you sooner than you think." And then he headed out the door locking it.

You looked outside and saw the darkness spread down the streets and the with a sigh, you dragged yourself to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. You were prepared to fight for your freedom. You stared in the mirror, you were dressed in your comfiest dress and you were thankful you took your corset and other accessories off. You put on sensible shoes and then heaved a breath in and out and started to undo the window lock. You heard a click and smiled.

You got up and pushed yourself out of it so that you were sat on the ledge. A cool breeze swept past you and you breathed it in. You looked down your heart hammering at the giant drop that you faced. There was a large bin beneath you thankfully yet you were still terrified. You closed your eyes and pushed off the ledge suppressing your scream the best you could. When you peaked your eyes open you saw your in the large dumpster and saw that many pillows were stacked in here to cushion your landing.

Your blood turned cold at this and you quickly scrambled out. You fell out and as you pulled yourself up, you heard the familiar taps of a cane. Sherlock knew. You froze and turned to stare at him. His face was blank and he stared at you. He spoke clearly. "You may have thought you were 2 steps ahead of me angel. But I am always a leap ahead of you. So I give you the choice. Go back to our room and your punishment won't be that bad and I will forgive you for your temporary lapse in judgement."

A pause played between the two of you and you felt tears gather in your eyes. You had come so far, you were so close. You waited for him to speak feeling your heart hammer. With a heavy sigh from Sherlock, he spoke again, his voice deepening a warning evident in his tone. "And if not, then try running and see what will happen angel. Because I can promise you, I will tear your wings off and break your halo before you can even apologize."

Your heart raced and you slowly turned gulping. You had worked too hard and with that one thought playing through your mind you sprinted and a dark laughter soon followed you. And before you could even make it to the first lamp post you were tackled onto the ground by his hulking figure. He spoke hotly into your ear, "I warned you. Now you're gonna deal with the consequences." He pulled you up over his shoulder and stomped to your shared apartment. He kicked the door down and the kicked it closed.

He stormed to the bedroom and threw you onto the bed. You gasped trying to catch your breath from crying and the fear that was vibrating in your chest. You watched as he quickly stripped from his clothes in anger. His predatory gaze settling on you immediately after his cock sprang free. You couldn't bring yourself to look at it. Instead you continued begging with your eyes to stop this but you were only met with his cold, dominating gaze.

"Strip." He said, his voice a hiss. You shook your head crying more. "Do it or I'll do it for you." You let out a pitiful sob and within seconds he was upon you and tore your dress open. Buttons popped off and seams torn, your breasts spilled free and within a few moments of them being exposed, Sherlock brought his head down and took a nipple into his mouth. Licking and sucking it, you felt yourself grow wet for him yet you held back your moans. A squeal left your lips as he quickly bit your nub and smirked. All the hike his thumb was pinching and caressing the other.

He pulled away and stared down at your tits. "Just wait til these are full of milk for our children. Your breasts will get so heavy, and I'll happily hold them. Fuck this little body is so perfect. Pretty tits to match your pretty face. I can't wait to mark them up with my bites and my cum. And don't give me any crybaby shit, this was your choice whore."

He soon tore the rest of your dress off followed by the rest of your clothing. You quickly tried to shield yourself but he was too fast. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head and smiled wickedly at seeing your naked body on display to him. You slowly brought your gaze down his body, getting wet at the sight of his muscular arms and his chiseled body. And then staring in shock over his big cock. It was long and girthy. A prominent vein running from the bottom to just under the tip.

Sherlock settled between your legs, you were hip to hip and with a grunt, he grabbed his cock, and slid it up and down your folds before pushing into you ripping the air from your lungs and replacing it with a scream which was quickly muffled by Sherlock's massive hand. He stared down at where you both connected and groaned feeling your pussy tighten around him trying to lubricate itself around his massive cock.

"Fuck. You're tight little pussy is fucking perfect. So warm, so tight. It's fucking hugging my cock. Your pussy is a big a whore as you. You wanted this, you wanted me to fuck you. You wanted me to shove my big cock into your little pussy. Awwh look at your tears, you look like such a slut. Maybe that's why you were in the whitehouse, cause you're just a fucking slut."

He looked down at you and smirked and your closed eyes, he moved his hand from your mouth to your chin and then pried your lips open with his thumb and then spat into your mouth. He then held himself up with one hand, remaining perfectly still letting you adjust to his cock. He then spat on two fingers and brought them down to you clit and began rubbing viciously. He then stared down at you again and pressed his mouth to yours.

He swallowed your groans and moan and let his tongue swipe around you mouth letting him taste every part of you before pulling away while sucking on your tongue. When he pulled a way a wire of spit attached you both for a second before it broke and splattered on your face. He smirked and the felt how wet you were and licked from your cheek to your temple. You fluttered your eyes closed until his hand gripped your jaw, and took away the small bit of pleasure you were feeling. You stared up at him mortified.

"You will look at me. Understood, I'm warning you. You keep your pretty eyes on me. With your fucking pretty crocodile tears. You keep looking at me or else it will get worse. I'd hate to lay my hands on your pretty face an leave a nasty mark there."

He then began to rock his hips and let his thrusting start slow and steady. Letting your virgin cunt get used to his cock and his thrusting. He moved his gaze from your eyes to where he was in you. As he pulled out he saw bits of blood on his cock and he groaned feeling a sense of glory over taking your virginity. And after he felt that glory he let himself go and began thrusting with wild abandon.

"You were a fucking virgin. God that's so fucking perfect. My good girl. You saved this cunt for me didn't you. Ofcourse you did, you had no idea what to do with it until you met me. This is my cunt now. I'm gonna cum in it, so it's fucking mine!"

You began moaning and whining feeling bliss wrap around you everywhere. You brought you legs up to knot around his hips, needing more of him even though you didn't want more. Your small hands travelled to his broad back and began scratching it, needing to grasp something to hold onto reality from the pleasure you were feeling. You felt the knot in your stomach and unwinding and then you finally felt go and came all over his cock with moan that echoed in his head.

He placed his head in your neck and planted kissed and sucks everywhere. Covering you in his love bites and the pure fact that you were purely his in that moment nudged him closer to his climax. And then he felt your pretty pussy flutter around his cock and cum all over it. And soon he lost control and came in you. Making sure to fill you up and not let one bit go to waste.

"Fuck did so good. Did perfect. Gonna make me a father aren't you. Such a perfect little angel, such a good girl for carrying all my kids. Did so fucking good taking my cock, gonna get a ring on that finger tomorrow and then I'm gonna fuck you until you can't think of anything but me. My angel. Gonna make you love me as much as I love you."

He laid on top of you and peppered your face in kisses, whispering things into your ears that you didn't hear as you were too blissed out and were close to falling asleep while he still had his cock in you. You let your eyelids close and your breathing slow as you drifted to sleep with Sherlocks cum dribbling out of you.

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You and Sherlock had moved into a much more spacious home and it was truly wonderful. The garden was big and filled with flowers and he would pick one single flower a day and present it to you before explaining the meaning. You were positively drowning in his love. So much so that you had stopped fight against it and allowed yourself to sink into it. And in return you gave Sherlock all the love in your heart too, allowing for your mind to be vacant with everything except Sherlock and your family.

Enola adored staying over to play with her nieces and nephews. In total you and Sherlock had 5 children, not counting the one that was currently in your stomach. With 3 strong boys and 2 gorgeous girls it seemed like life was complete. Enola taught them key things even if they were little, but they understood. You blamed that on Sherlocks genes afterall he was the smart one.

Speaking of, you just heard the front door close and the sudden parade of small feet dash down the hall to see their father. You giggled and continued making dinner for everyone all while pregnant and a baby in your hip. Little James was quite the mother's boy and he was clingy. Yet they all were at his age. He babbled to you as you stirred the stew, he listed colours and insects trying his hardest to remember what insect came out of a cocoon.

You heard the childish laughter getting closer and the heavy footsteps of you husband. Sherlock watched you, absolutely mesmerized by how perfect of a mother and wife you were. Don't get him wrong he still supported the feminist notion slowly rising, but he could not bring himself to allow you to do any of it. Seeing you as a reward for all his hard work. He drew his attention to James sat on your hip listening to his confused babbles.

"A butterfly my dear James." Your son's eyes lit up and you gently placed him down for him to wobbly toddle towards his dad for his daily cuddles. You smiled content at the homely and domestic atmosphere. You zoned out looking at the blue sky, still stirring the stew, completely missing Sherlock dismissing your children to go and wait in the dining room.

With gentle steps, Sherlock curled himself around you, and you leaned back into him and turned your head up and slightly turned it, and he placed a soft gentle kiss on you lips and gazed into your eyes lovingly. "How were the children, Mrs.Holmes?" You smiled, "Enola came over and kept them busy drawing, yet James decided to cling to my side and question me as to why my stomach has gotten so big."

Sherlock chuckled and moved his large hand up to your stomach cradling your pregnant belly. He placed a soft kiss in the crook of your neck before gently whispering, "And how are you my love, is our little one treating you okay?" You sighed happily feeling peace radiate through your bones and into Sherlocks. "I'm fine, they were kicking up a storm this morning but I think that's because they weren't ready for daddy to leave for work."

He hummed, "I apologize my angel. Truly, this one is going to be a little devil and I think that's my fault entirely." He said smugly. You giggled at him, and allowed him to keep cuddling you as you made dinner and settled into your husbands embrace and his dark love.

[ladylaviniya]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 1 || Masterlist || Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: After your wedding night, you find Sherlock to be most unusual and confronting in nature.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Insults, Rough sex gone too far, internal bleeding, Menstration/Period, Arguing, Typical Victorian Era Sexism,

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: Hi all!! Here's the next chapter, sorry no smut but lots of tension. Love you all and appreciate those most that have been showing their support through comments or Reblogs or both ★

Inspiring Song: "Caprice N° 24" by Paganini

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12:49pm Monday 5th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

Sherlock, as he paced his own bedroom was frustrated...and furious to say the least...he touched the cut on his bottom lip and hissed.

He was not equipped for this arrangement. He was unprepared for the handling of a wife. He was not aware he would be so much for his new bride to take...no whore in Mayfair Row demonstrated such complaints...however he reminded himself they were experienced women...you were a new lamb.

He hit the side of his bed, hearing your crying through the walls. Guilt became his executioner.

You were so frigid, he just didn’t expect you to struggle so viciously. You were unexpectedly a savage bitch!

He decided to take a deep breath. The deed was done.

He palmed his soft red cock and wrinkles his nose at the blood. There was so much...his throat clenched, mayhaps he was too rough...normally blood excited him...normally tears and sobbing made his member thick and hard...

He eyed the trunk chest at the foot of his bed...you could not survive his flavours. There was no possibility...He was a wicked handler and he knew you couldn’t ever meet that side of him...

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12:55pm Monday 5th May 1890, 221A Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

The Housekeeper slapped her novel shut. She heard the many thumps and shouts, and now she could hear the horrid sobbing coming up from the floor above...your bedroom.

She sighed...it wasn’t the first time she had heard such things from the apartment 221B. There was single difference...you were his wife...not some perfumed pretender with a pimp expecting a percentage of commission.

Mrs Hudson felt for you. She didn’t leave her apartment until she heard the stomping of Sherlock’s heavy feet going down the stairs.

Her eyes widened, surely he wouldn’t leave you when you were in such a state?

Mrs Hudson was an old woman, she knew it was expected she would ignore it and carry on with her daily activities, Mrs Hudson though knew many married women who had died from that lack of acknowledgement in a violent husband.

She stuck her head out her door and saw him making his way to the front door of the building.

“What have you done?” she scolded him as his hand clenched hard on the door handle.

His face was red. The elder gasped at the line of red rolling down his chin from a cut on his lip...His teeth were pink and set in a vile snarl.

“Nothing that concerns you Mrs Hudson, return back into your hole!” he hissed back as he left with another door slam.

Mrs Hudson tutted greatly and ignored his words all together.

She gathered her skirts and climbed the stairs to Apartment B. She slid the key into the hole and entered the premises speedily.

She heard your weeping in your room and followed to the closed bedroom door.

She wrapped her knuckle on the wood three times, “My dear,” she called, “It’s Mrs Hudson, may I enter?”

When you sobbed harder incoherently, she took it as a sign she should enter. In truth you didn’t know or have enough time to process what she had asked.

The elderly woman pushed the wood open and gasped in horror at what she saw...a naked girl...your bottom half and blankets drenched in crimson red. Your skin was covered in the stench of sweat.

She covered her mouth and tutted, “oh you poor, poor deary.”

You sobbed harder at feeling her cold hands touch your hot shoulder.

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2:12pm Monday 5th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You hissed and sulked softly as your body sunk deeper in the warm bath water.

Your housekeeper had so kindly spent an hour filling the tub up with hot steamy water. During that time you cried and faded into light sleep before coming back to life with the painful memory of what your holy beloved had done to you

The elderly woman would come back every so often to check the packing of linen rags between your legs. For a honest moment she was afraid you might die. She called for the doctor...one she could trust...Doctor John Watson.

After the bleeding had lessened, she encouraged you to drink a cup of water and come out for the room to enjoy the afternoon bathwater...

You hadn’t said a word to Mrs Hudson this entire time. Too ashamed and shocked to form a word.

You couldn’t even form a ‘Thankyou Mrs Hudson.’ Only quiet tears would melt down your cheek.

The hot waves helped your muscles relax and sooth the anxiety under your skin.

Your head flopped on the lip of the bathtub.

With fluttering eyes... exhaustion took over and you fell asleep in the bath tub listening to the crackling of the wood and flames of the fireplace.

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6:30pm Monday 5th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

A hot hand touched your face and you gasped at the dramatic change in temperature. You were sitting in a freeze tub of water....it had gone cold hours ago...

Your eyes opened and focused on the deep smooth voice of a man. Not just any man however.

“Mrs Holmes...” he purred softly, “The bath is cold, it would be in best interest if you redress.”

Your body was incredibly weak and chilly while also impossibly hot. You were a slight dizzy and confused. Your lips parted and closed again repeatedly like a fish.

When his face met his voice and his nose and eyes came into true focus, you shivered and leant back and flinched away from his touch.

Your husband released a lengthy sigh and rolled his eyes, “Very well,” he murmured before forcing both his arms into the icy bath water and hooked them beneath your back and legs.

As he lifted you out, your stomach dropped and you squeaked, feeling that gravitational pull to which you might fall. Instinctively your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders. You clung to him savagely digging your nails into his coat.

You felt him walk, your wet body trailing and dripping all over the carpet.

He journeyed back to your bedroom.

As the cold air hit your skin you started to tremble and felt him lay you down on your mattress.

Your mind was a mess.

Another person was in the room you noticed in the corner of your eye. You cowered in your nude state and whimpered. You felt delirious and confused.

You blinked up at the other stranger. Another man.

You didn’t know if he was real at first until his burning hands pulled from his black gloves and gently touched your knees.

“Sherlock, she’s sick.”

“Yes, how eloquently obvious Watson, check her,” you heard your husband hiss.

You tried to move away, roll and crawl but you were flipped once more onto your back, your legs weakly spread.

You groaned and your eyes fluttered. You needed to vomit.

You felt a body climb onto the bed with you. Sherlock. His thumb dabbed and rubbed across your wrinkled forehead, he hushed you softly like you were some weeping babe or startled horse.

You felt the doctors hand touch your intimates and you panicked, your breath hitched and you moaned a soft, “N-no.” You tried pulling your thighs together but Sherlock reached down and spread your knees forcefully.

You didn’t understand what he was doing and the worst thoughts washed over you, was Sherlock sharing you with another man like a sick villain?

You wept tiredly.

A cold hard contraption pierced the hole of your body. A shudder ripped out of you as you felt your vaginal walls expand.

“Minor tearing...what caused the amount of blood is your wife starting her menses.”

Sherlock sighed, “Thank god, I thought I almost killed her.” The metal object pulled out from between your thighs.

The room was lit by candles and kerosene lamps. And so in the low light, Sherlock’s face was softened. The shadows kissed his cheeks and lips.

“Bed rest and warm towels, give her a few days to rest, heal. Usually women finish their blood within a week.”

The doctor pulled away and you heard the snapping of a bag lock. You managed to catch a medical case in his hands in your blurry line of sight.

The doctor fled to your door, before he left, his hand clenched the handle and he turned lightly. He hissed at the detective.

“Be gentle next time you participate in these activities Sherlock,” John snapped, “She is your bloody wife, not your whore.”

Your husband, ever so gently pressed his hot lips to your forehead. You had not predicted such soft kindness after his mistreatment earlier today. He hummed. He held and pissed your back up, he forced you to bend you knees and slipped your naked body beneath the coverings. Your wet body soaked the sheets, your cheek dug into the soft pillows.

“My dear Watson,” you heard him snicker, “I am nothing more than a mere gentleman.” You heard the doctor scoff and shut the door behind him.

Warm hands squeezed your shoulders and rubbed your jawline.

Peaking up at Sherlock, he wore an unreadable expression...he did not appear happy nor angry, rather he appeared tired. Bags beneath his eyes could tell you that much. His bottom lip was slightly swollen, a little red line cut through it, you softly huffed, it was where you’d bitten him hours ago to get him off you.

You couldn’t believe you were back in the same bed he had hurt you in. It made you feel cold and a desire to be distant again...but the warmth of his hand and the blankets had a power over you.

Your chest was sore and a light cough climbed out of your throat.

He did not speak and for that you were grateful. It would’ve been a near impossibility to continue a conversation with him with the state of your being.

The nauseas sickness sweeping of your belly subsided. All you wanted to feel was the warm covers, the goose feather pillows and his warm hand, softly patting your head...it took you back to a happier time...a time where your father and you shared a bed and he held you until you fell asleep...some days it felt like a dream...

You didn’t want to admit it but you dearly missed those times. Sherlock smoked the same tobacco, the scent soaked in his vest. It brought you the tiniest comfort...

You yawned and lazily blinked up at him.

“Try and get some rest wife...should you need anything, knock on my door.”

And with that he climbed off the mattress. Your body flipping lightly as it sprung up. Your nose sniffled softly.

Your heart deflated, ah there it was again. The coldness, the disdain, the reminder...he didn’t want to marry you.

After his foul entrance earlier, you wondered if such a feeling was unanimous at this point.

You shut your eyes and moaned. You tried to roll onto your side...you hissed lightly at the sore stabbing of your pelvis and the stinging stretch inside of you.

As sleep carried you out of reality, Sherlock made his slow departure, quietly sliding his way to your bedroom door.

He looked over the room and shook his head slowly...this once was his friends chambers, and before that a space where he kept his fun tools and artefacts.

Now he had a sick woman in the bed, his wife whom he hadn’t meant to brutalise earlier.

You were finally snoring when he managed to find the courage to leave the room, put out the living room fireplace and finally return to his bed.

As he removed his own clothing, he stared at the wall that separated your rooms. He wondered how badly your sickness might continue and if it was permitted to leave you alone while you bleed so profusely. 

He thought about how these few weeks were in fact meant to be a honeymoon, how he had most furiously refused the ship tickets to France where his brother Mycroft insisted you both go for your romance to blossom.

Sherlock had very little intention to be a romantic for a woman he didn’t desire.

He tore off his shirt and rolled his eyes at the memories that transpired over the last two weeks.

You were nothing but a baby carriage to Mycroft, the future mother to the future Holmes son. So of course Sherlock could not understand his brothers incessant pandering to be a match maker of lovers.

The detective was no small minded idiot either...he knew plenty about you just from today...he knew about you before meeting you... He knew exactly why this marriage occurred on your end.

A bastard daughter of sir Y/L/N, son of the Lord and Lady Y/L/N. This was merely a way to keep your social hierarchy to a suitable and respectable level.

He had heard and read the scandalous rumours.

You were half the soft rose and half a weed in regards to your breeding...which meant you were a weed in the end, an illegitimate, unrecognised bastard.

He sat on his bed and untied his shoes.

Sherlock was not one to participate and discriminate the classes. Many a time it was speculated by John that Sherlock might’ve been a socialist.

The detective might’ve not cared for your breeding, but he didn’t appreciate being used as a climbing ladder of society which he didn’t receive well either way.

He was using you so that Mycroft didn’t cut him off financially, you were using Sherlock so that the people of culture no longer shunned and ignored your existence.

Mycroft was a down right fool if he believed such a union could ever bring together a matrimony of love. So Sherlock accepted it quickly...this would be what it was...a contract...you now needed to complete you aide of the bargain.

You needed to let Sherlock impregnate you...

With your stunt in rebellious adversity, you acknowledged his size and struggled to accommodate him, ergo your fear, pain and bite.

Sherlock huffed, he would need to wait another seven days before he could perform his husbandry duties upon you and press his seed within.

He laid back into his covers still staring at the wall...

He bit his lip. Oh if only he could punish you for such misdirected behaviours...he wondered how willing you really were and what lengths you were prepared to take to remain his Mrs Holmes so that the meek people of the middle and upper class might continue their false smiles your way.

A wicked smirk spread along his lips...

Perhaps a innocent bride was a perfect ingredient for his most filthy pleasurable plans...

Mycroft never stated how quickly it was expected of you to conceive and carry...he just said

“Soon.” And “Before he met the grave.”

He rolled onto his side and imagined you there with him in his bed. He imagined how your body curled up into such a small figure.

He envisioned the likeness of your tear stained face and an exhausted smile...

For now he would let you rest.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

7:00am Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

The sound of a loud violin cord strong woke you up from your hours of needed sleep. You groaned as your head began to ache....

You drowsily tossed your head to the direction of your door way...your eyes narrowed. Someone was playing a violin very loudly just outside your bedroom.

You sniffled unladylike as your runny nose clogged your breath. You lifted your hands to cover your ears. Onto shaking legs you pulled out of your bed and used the canopy wood to steady yourself. You walked slowly to the wardrobe and plucked out a nightgown.

You hobbled to your bedroom door and as you opened the wooden barrier, the buzz of Paganini hit your ears. You wrinkled your nose as you watched your husband play the instrument, leaning over a table covered in papers, maps, receipts and a plate of toast.

As he saw you, his eyes widened slightly...you were not dressed appropriately for the hour of the morning. At any moment he might’ve had a client come inside if it were not for his honeymoon.

“Good morning, Mrs Holmes,” said Sherlock as he placed his instrument down on the table.

You sternly eyed him. Your hands trembled lightly. His face. His handsome evil features upset you. He offered a soft smile and kind eyes. You didn’t dare fall for his trickery. From the moment you had met him he had provided a twisted exchange of false care that twisted quickly to brutal cruelty.

You decided, you did not like your husband and it was not something you would hide from him.

“My grandmother insists that is the devil’s music,” You proclaimed, “It is most wretched to hear of a morning.”

He sucked in a deep breath of air and grounded, “I do not entertain superstitious conversation,

Paganini was gifted and because of this, other composers jealously invented rumours of a pact with Satan to dissuade the public from ever enjoying the expanses of musical differences.”

You glared at him. Of course he would say something so infuriating and liberal in the works. His tone tilted on belittlement and you felt there was absolutely no standing that could allow him to talk to you like this especially after yesterday’s events.

You lightly snorted, “As it may be so, I still urge the request you refrain from playing it so early and while in my presence. It woke me up most fiercely.”

In truth it isn’t what woke you up…You could still feel him there. The memory of his violent embrace haunted the muscles of your lower half. He was like a ghost remaining between your thighs. It made you feel ill to think about.

He looked down. A deep frown on his face. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. He pushed the plate with toast closer to you, “Mrs Hudson bid you a fair morning wife, you should be up earlier from now on to receive her.”

You looked to the softly ticking clock on the fireplace mantel and blinked, “Indeed, I shall need to apologise to her,” demurely you conceded, “I usually rise by six in the morning.”

“You are ill,” Sherlock said now holding the plate out to you for your weak hands to take, “I insist you sit and eat and return back to bed for further rest.”

You wanted to raise your voice at him. You wanted to scream and yell that you were not I’ll but rather hurt and in suffering after his careless mistreatment.

You couldn’t figure out if his gentleness last night was really a delusional dream. This world around you felt like some vicious game.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. You wanted to be a spitfire and tell him he needed to apologise for hurting you yesterday before you take anything from him...yet as your insides tightened at the smell of the warm butter soaking the hot cooked bread, you obeyed his demand.

You glided over to him and lightly pushed some of the papers on the table around. Sitting at the end, Sherlock mirrored your seating and went about picking up a newspaper.

On the front was a illustration of Lord Thaddeus Pennicott, a baron who from the title of the paper had gone missing.

You looked back to your breakfast and pondered on your husband’s work. How the articles written by John Watson had designed Sherlock to be a saviour to the public with a intelligence that might put most scholars to shame. The Sherlock you had come to meet was nothing like the gazette’s description, rather he was rude, ill tempered and coarse in handling any woman.

You chewed the soft delicious toast and swallowed gradually.

It was difficult to accept but not hard to see, you had married a brute.

You glanced at Sherlock again. His face was hidden behind the paper, his thick long fingers cradled and framed the edges of the news securely as he flicked through the gossips.

You nervously fidgeted in your seat as you ate breakfast. You did not see any tea and assumed you slept through any Mrs Hudson might’ve deliver.

It was so unusual waking up in a foreign home, having to accept this would be your place of residence for as long as your husband desired to live here.

You noted the oddities of your surroundings...objects you didn’t much think of as you moved in yesterday. There was a underwater helmet, a skeleton of some type of odd mammal, and even a telescope sitting on top of a piano.

You read over some of the framed newspaper headlines which were the retellings of your husband’s crime and mystery stories.

The will to speak to him again with level head and calm tones was as hard as walking through mud up to your ankles. You squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn’t ignore him nor refuse to speak to him for your entire marriage.

You licked your bottom lip and coughed into a napkin. Looking back to Sherlock’s newspaper you nodded and called across the table, “Are you helping with the Pennicott case, Mr Holmes?”

He flattened the paper on the table and stared at you as if you’d said something obvious.

“Of course not. Clearly he’s a man who ran out from his wife. It happens more often than you think,” he cleared his throat and picked up his cup to his lips, speaking into the cup “Perhaps you should sit pretty rather than voice your false interests in my work which you have no business in.”

You didn’t like the tone he used on you. Condescending. Icy. You wouldn’t allow it to continue. You remembered your grandfather telling you to put your foot down as a new wife or else you would be unattended to. It’s not that you desired the attending after yesterday, but you wouldn’t accept rudeness.

“Sherlock,” you hummed and crossed your arms over your lap as you tongued the inside of your cheek trying to not scream at him, “I am your wife,” you said it sternly, “Not a child, when I inquire on the better part of your interest, do not speak down to me like a dog.”

You jerked your chin dignified, holding your ground despite almost dropping the last crust of your breakfast.

He pursed his lips with narrowed eyes and thought before spoke. It was a chilling moment before announced, “You are my wife, that is true...and so I shall speak to you however you tempt me to, and this very morning you’ve put me in a disagreeable mood.”

Disagreeable mood?! You refrained from rolling your eyes at him.

You sat back and sighed, abandoning the last and tiny piece of bread. He was so foul to think of himself so justified. You expressed a disinterest to his music tastes and that indicated his deflating concern for you.

Not once had he asked in your wellbeing. Perhaps he was clouded with shame? ‘he should be shameful, he hurt an innocent woman.’

“Perhaps, you should practice on controlling and restraining your moods then Sherlock,” you griped, “I do not much care for your habitable outbursts.”

For the first time you caught his face expressing a new design...shock, flabbergasted. His face grew a small hue of pink.

You smirked a little at the small victory.

His chewed his bottom lip, “My habitable outbursts?” he pried, offence costing his words.

You swallowed and nodded curtly you leant back in your chair, “Now here at breakfast, the church flee yesterday, and the marriage bed rage also yesterday.”

An indignant chuckled crawled from his throat.

“You bit me like a wild cat,” he voiced rightfully, pointing hard at the small wound still in his mouth. The redden skin was a symbol of your defiance and escape. Instead of being embarrassed, you surged with pride that you punished him in such a manner.

You quipped back quickly, “and you stabbed me like an merciless villain.”

“A villain, you say?” his brows now raised and his eyes widened.

“Quite,” You glanced down at the plate and muttered, There’s no other term for what you did to me.”

Rape was not in the current vocab for this situation you believed. You were married and he was taking what was rightfully his as husband, he could have been gentler however. Your grandmother never shared that it could be so agonising, surely your grandfather had never inflicted such abuse into her?

Your husband slowly rose from the table and leant across it. You flinched and squeezed your eyes as you feared his sharp hand. Sherlock Holmes had every strength to hurt his weak wife, so why did you feel so mouthy in the sense of easily provoking him to rage or even potential violence?

The handsome detective with hot pale hands ran his knuckle down your cold cheek...it was wet. A tear had escaped. Dear god...you were trembling and clenching your skirts beneath the table.

“I can think of a plethora of words for what I did to you,” Sherlock muttered, he pulled his hand away and scoffed, “I did not think Mycroft to saddle me with such a stupid bride.”

A fresh flow of hot tears flooded your eyes.

A growl of outrage accidentally climbed from your chest, it came out like a needy whine, “I beg your pardon?”

“Granted my dear Mrs Holmes,” he smirked and clapped his hands gesturing to the room you left, “Now off to bed with you, I see your withering state worsen by the moment. Doctor Watson informed me you needed rest during your delicate...situation. Perhaps it has brought you to these hysterical theatrics.”

A light gasp of horror and a written expression of disgust painted your face, “I shall not, nay! I shall sit an disembowel your words,” you sniffled and tried not to fall into a pathetic sob, “D-did you just call me stupid?!”

As his smile widened and you angrily threw the last piece of bread at him, hitting his chest.

“You sir,” your bottom lip wobbled “Are out of place and feverishly I have discovered your lack of empathy most stunning, that or rather the amount of your selfish conceived motion that I am a docile woman who will put up with your conceited arrogance!!”

How dare he hurt you as terribly as he did in humiliation and physical behind that he should also find it acceptable to brandish you with further insults of your intelligence.

Before he could sit back down, you slapped your hands on the table, the china tinkled as you pushed yourself up to your feet. You hissed at him as you wobbled around the wooden furniture, “You may be London’s finest Detective, but I am your wife.”

You mapped your finger harshly into his chest and snarled with great venom dripping from your tongue, “By the lord of heaven, if I had only known the telling’s of our futures, I would announce full heartedly that you Sherlock Holmes would be the very last man I would prevail to marry.”

The room fell silent. His cold eyes burned I to your gullet. He licked his teeth, left slightly speechless and unsure if he should entertain the argument any longer than necessary.

Your belly felt tight. The toast was not sitting well. You were anxiously awaiting his roar, his bite or his strike. Your chest rose and fell with every desperate breath you took as to not fall into a heap of wailing. Breathe through the pain and the fear.

He stared at your lips and fluttered his eyes, shaking his head at you.

“...Good morning Mrs Holmes,” he bid gruffly and bowed his head before leaving the table to head over to the coat rack.

“And where is it you run off to this time?” You raised your voice shakily and waved your hands as if to conjure the words of his locations destination, “The same place you fled to yesterday and yesterday evening? To hide in a bottle?”

Mr Holmes snapped his head back at you, his eyes scowered your poorly glad form beneath the dressing gown. It took everything in him not to fuck your miserable mouth off.

“No...” he swallowed harshly, “I seek the companionship of bearable company.”

Your chest tightened and the whimper left, that could’ve been anyone or no one with how mysterious your husband had proven to be.

You rubbed your hot forehead and grunted softly to remind him, “It is our honeymoon.”  

During the week of a honeymoon it was deemed improper to seek or receive guests and the company of any other than your married partner.

Sherlock leant forward, right down to your cheek, his lips scarcely touching the skin of your love and jaw as he whispered hauntingly, “And your honey is blood. I shall not interrupt your peaceful rest....” he kissed your face gently, and said at a room tempt tone, “Good morning Mrs Holmes.”

Argument over it would seem.

He picked up a walking cane and a hat, leaving the flat to yourself.

You sighed frustratedly and stomped a foot like a feral child. You wouldn’t put up with this, for this is not what was promised by the outline of marriage by every book, paper and word of mouth. You crossed your arms and sniffled. You wiped your eyes again.

Sherlock made you feel more like a child than a wife with how he used his words and the looks he threw at you. It was unfair and cruel.

You were a very smart young lady and practiced the skills of refine ladyship over the years of your teenage hood. You were a paragon of brilliance and etiquette...only for some lout you called a husband to drive you to irritation so unbearable that you felt it necessary to toss your breakfast scraps at him.

You ground your teeth and returned to your rooms to pick out a modest covering wrap over the dressing gown you already wore. It would be most annoying to have to strip your body everytime you vomited or perhaps didn’t reach the bed pan in time.

You shuddered and went about washing your face and fiddling with your hair...

As you stared at your washed out features, you heard your landlady arrive...

You thought about your wifely duties beyond the bedroom. With Sherlock going off to god knows where, you were totally left to your own devices and for the very first time in years, you had freedom to decide your days habits.

You thought half heartedly about calling upon Sherlock’s brother or the Doctor Watson to grant a visit and answer some questions beginning to form in your head.

‘Why is Sherlock so different in person compared to the papers?’

‘What displeases Sherlock into his outbursts and what pleases him to calm those said outbursts to dust?’

You tried to wonder on your marriage contract. You were not entirely privy to it even though you felt you had every right. It was a deal conspired by Mycroft and your grandfather after all. You wondered if Sherlock even caught a glimpse of it.

Why did Sherlock even agree to marry you if it was only to lead to his foul manners and hands to you?

Tapped your lips and shook your head.

What does every contracted marriage consist of? Land? Babes? Livestock? Wealth? Status?

You looked around your room and out the open door to the sitting room.

Sherlock did not strike you as someone in need of money...and yet...many of these items, surely were not affordable on a wavering wage as his alone? His family wealth most likely was directed towards Mycroft as the eldest.

And then you recalled your darling sister in law, her shrieking at the wedding, the words echoed back like a tunnel, ‘I can help pay off your debts when I marry’ she had said.

So it was money...debts...and enough to cause strains that would force him to accept your hand in marriage. You tried not dwelling on being reminded how undesirable you were as a bastard woman. This newly accepted information could be used to your advantage.

A fabulous idea occurred to you. An idea that would prove to Sherlock that you were in fact not a stupid imbecile.

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[romanscoming]

“SUCCESFUL MISSION”

DAD!HENRY CAVILL x FAMOUS!PHOTOGRAPHER!BLACK!READER BASE OFF OF THE POLL I POSTED MOSTLY EVERYTHING IS ABOUT HALF OF 50% BUT DAD!HENRY HAS THE MOST, IDK FOR SURE BUT ILL TRY TO AT LEAST, STILL DO ALL OF THEM BUT LETS SEE HOW IT GOES :). (POLL DOESN'T END UNTIL FEBRUARY 12TH) FLUFF

4 OF HENRY AUTUMN AND CALLIE JUST REQUEST W/ A PLOT AND WITH "DAD!HENRY AND THE TWINS"

-----

JOIN TAGLIST TO BE TAGGED AND @'D IN THE FICS.

2023-TAGLIST | REQUEST | WATTPAD

SUMMARY;

picture you a busy working woman, who travels most of the time, you better famous, and popular but not as popular as the family you met on the airplane,, and not just that the pretty faces you get to speak to and numbers you've given to the little ones.

WARNING !

nothing I think, small talk, children (toddlers)?, airplane, mentions of being famous and stuff, hookup(not rlly) flirting, the little girls being adorable :) blonde haired baby = Callie and Brown haired baby = Autumn.

_________

YOUR BUSINESS HAS BEEN FLOWING HEAVENLY GOOD, you been traveling around a lot, keeping your fans updated on instagrams and twitter, going to meet and greets and other famous stuff the people go to.

You were in California right now, and in the airport to fly to New York to attend some business, but lucky enough you didn't even notice a curly headed male and two toddlers coming along on the same airplane as yourself.

It were so busy, and trying to take focus you didn't notice them at all, but hey work needed to get done.

You sat by the open walkway while you allowed the other person sat by the window.

You'd been on about five different phone calls, three different papers you had written on and about 7 different times you opening up your laptop and connecting your camera to it and viewing, sending and saving photos from the camera.

You were so focus, wanting and having to get this work done you didn't even notice the whispering right across from you and the looks you were given on the other side of the plane.

"That right there is a famous photographer named, Y/N Y/L/N.., isn't she pretty?" Henry whispered to the two little ones siting next to her.

The blonde headed one turned her head fast as hell to get a good look like the pretty lady her father was talking about.

The brown haired one laughed as she pointed at you and said "Th-tat won..? da-addy.. th..tat won!?"

Henry's face full of embarrassment as he choo'd at the young girl for her to stop being loud, "Oooo daddy got a b-big fawt cruwsh on a jiiirl"

Henry looked at the blonde pointing a finger at her to shush as they laughed a giggle even more which caught her attention.

You made eye contact with the brown haired girl as she smiled and giggle at you which exposed a big sweet looking smile from you towards her.

She motioned her hands to you, a heart and pointed at her father which made you pay more attention as her dad brushed her off, "Stop that Autumn.. you going to freak her out."

You just laughed at the girl not even noticing her father just as you turned you head away.

You finally finished more of your work as you were hearing the two little ones babbling around about something,

You figured out to ignore it and mind your business as you used the tv on the seat and picked out a movie, finding dory which was you new favorite Disney show.

Before you could press play, the blonde haired toddler was in the walkway right by your knee..

You smiled at her as you questioned and asked, "Hello there princess, can I help you..?"

She just started up at you for a while before looking back at her sister and then at you.

"Daddy's innn-the t-t-toilet and.. mwe and swissy can-wt!" she complained, dragging her works before stomping her feet as she was embarrassed but trying her best.

You figured she was only about 1or close to 3, still needing speak lessons but was trying her best, you just talked to her as she was a normal child oldest to speak proper, ignoring all the mispronounces and the stuttering.

"You can't what sweetheart?" you said in a smoothing voice wanting to calm her down a bit.

She looked down at you lap for a moment seeing the route for the tv seat, but didn't say a word just pointed at the screen and back at you.

You smiled at you and question, "You and your sissy can watch finding dory?"

She nodded with a adorable pouty lips as you hand out to see if she'll let you carry her, which she gladly accepted snuggling into your embrace and laying her head on your shoulder.

You got to their original seats as you were introduced to the brown haired baby who looked quiet familiar,

You ended brushing it off and greeting the child, "Hi there sweet pea.. your sitting over here all alone like angel, could me and princess.." you paused looking at the toddler in your arms

"Mmm-my nawe iws caw-collie" she says in small pauses, which makes you proud.

"Right, Ms. Y/L/N, and Princess Callie has request to sit with you, madam." you cheered to the chubby toddler,

As she clapped her hands and nodded, "C-callie.., Aw-Autummmn!" she slurred as she point at the toddler in your hands and then at herself.

You sat in their fathers sit with Callie between your legs with the brown headed girl, Autumn was in her own seat.

Not for long tho, you quickly got on Disney plus, searching for something to put on for the both of them just as you heard babbling and cries coming from them both.

"Stawp!.. no! Stawpppp ii..it!" one called out, "nooooo youuuu stAWP!" the other yelled out right after louder

You looked down at both seeing the blonde pushing her sister off of you, trying to keep you all for herself.

You chuckled which caught their attention as they pouted loudly.

The chubby toddler had wet tears coming from out her eyes, a silent sob coming him her as you watched her puffy cheeks turn a bright red,

You put your hands out for her to grab ahold of you as you choo'd at her to not cry, "Oh no.. no need to cry sweet girl,"

"They're enough of me to go around to both of you, okay?" They both just stared at you for a while before you smiled and tickled them both.

"That's the lesson for today, sharing is caring, okay we're on the same level right?" they finally got it with the small giggles that were still coming out of their mouth, they nodded their heads at your question,

You settled Callie back between your lap again, and Autumn on your thigh as she laid her head on your breast relaxing herself.

You were surprise on there attachment on you, which caused you to wonder did they a female figure or even a motherly figure in their life to provide them.

You got your answer quickly as you felt how clingy they were if you only moved a little inch, it was as if they thought you were going to be leaving them very soon,

They ended up calming down, stop whining, clinging on to you as if you were their own mother for them to keep, but you didn't mind.

You guys problem were watching the movie for about a half of 30 minutes when you figured that their father was maybe busy with a phone call.

That thought left you mind as you felt a device slap across your thigh and stopped the young girl from trying to do a password for a phone,

You laughed, "Can I see that Callie.. I'll give it back-I promise."

She gave you the phone just as you opened it you were presented to the lock screen which was a picture of a celebrity.. but not any celebrity the celebrity whose attention you've been wanting for a while, the CELEBRITY YOU WERE CRUSHING ON FOR A WHILE NOW.

You see the picture of Henry Cavill, with Callie clinging to his chess as he held her, and Autumn's legs hanging on his shoulders as she had her head laid on top of his,

They all looked identical by the face, Henry and Autumn looking alike the most by them both having that brown curly texture hair while Callie stood out a little with her dirty-blonde but curly hair.

You were particularly drooling over the picture.. he was such a dilf, like some kind of geek god.

before you knew it, and before you tried,,

You opened your mouth to ask the girls a question just as the brown haired twin called out, "Daddy! hewwooooo daddy!"

The shock-ness written all over you face as you quickly turned your head meeting Henry's eyes as he is staring at you.

"I foo-found cruwsh dada.. see!" You eyes were turning toward him and then the children in you lap, you were all shaken and nervous.

You were trying to from sentences but nothing was working at all, you were so embarrassed-"Sorry.. fuck- this is a mistake.. uhh., I didn't even know they were yours!" you bit your lip,

The girls in your lap were laughing and giggling with those adorable toddler voices and giggles, you could feel your heart racing and your brain melting in seconds.

"It's fine, Y/N.. we seen you when we first arrived on the plane you know, I told them about you." He said as he walked more towards the seat exposing what he had in his hand, "Snawk!!"

You looked down at his hand seeing a bag of Cheetos puffs and two of the baby food puffs.

Just as you felt something missing on you lap, Autumn was about to fall as she was sliding down you lap and pass he sister.

You quickly grabbed her cradling her in your arms as you started to feel a increase in your breath, "Jesus Christ, you almost scared me princess, you got to be careful."

Autumn nodded and apologized, "Sowwy,"

Just as you felt a body slide in next to yours it was Henry, he was so close to you, most likely could even hear his breathing.

"You really good with kids."

You smiled at his words and hummed as you turned the hand with his phone to him, "Callie was close to disabling it.. so I took it."

He claimed it was fine before he unlocked his phone and gave it to the young girl who smiled and mumbled a small "Thank you daddy!"

Which made you and him smile as Autumn pouted a little puffing out her cheeks as she looked back up at you guys.

"Hi Auttie, would you like to play on my phone?" you asked move her hair before her ear as Henry punch her cheek making her move a little as she looks back up at you and nods.

You smile at her before pulling you phone out and doing you password and giving her the phone on YouTube.

You intend to look around and the two kids in your lap, you adore them, just as a voice broke your thoughts, "So, how have you been?"

You looked up at Henry who was already staring at you, smiling as you looked back into his eyes with fiery cheeks.

"I've been okay you know, this whole famous stuff is new to me but I'm working my way though you know." you replied back removing you eyes from and looking out the window.

Henry cleared out his throat before mumbling, "You very pretty."

Which snapped you right out of your thoughts, "Huh,?"

You both turned, facing each other as he tried to avoid your eyes as they were staring down at him, "I said.., your very beautiful and pretty.."

You let out a small laugh and blinked at him before smiling even harder, "Im sorry, sorry-Your an attractive man as well.. all big and strong-which!, Which is a good thing of course!"

Before he could reply back, the babies on your lap were tapping your thigh and hip like crazy to get your attention.

"Y..Y/N, looka!" one started shoving the phone in your face so you can get a better look, "You-cawn have daddy's nwumber!" Autumn called out as she showed you,

your phone on the contacts app..

Callie giggled up a storm as she showed her daddies phone with a random contact and a picture that was really recently.

A picture of the 4 of you, Callie and Autumn in your lap and Henry looking at you loveably and you looking at the Children with a very kind heart.

"Oh Jesus!", you called out as you spotted the phone, "Cal, Auttie.. that isn't Y/N's number girls."

You called to them as Henry watched you, transform into a parental figure for his sweet girls.

"There that's my number okay, you guys are going to call me whenever you can right?" you smiled at the girls in your lap.

They quickly nodded and cheered, "suwccesful mi..mmisson!" they said in sync

"Sorry about that, you can delete my number later."

"No, no it's fine, I'll keep it for whenever they want to be near you, honey." Henry said quickly as you were in shock as he kissed your cheek and let you kiss his daughters forehead.

Before you knew it the plane was landing, you left from their seat shortly after the announcement, and grabbed your lounge which you were helped by Henry as he came in right behind you.

He even helped you find a cab, and place your bags in the trunk, him and his girls were all to sweet and kind to you,

you were most definitely going to miss it, and hoped they'd call you soon.

Once you got home and gotten settled in, you notifications went off on your phone, a message from 'Dada-Henry' you smiled at the contact name before opening the message,

^ ‘the girls said they miss you already, I miss you also.’

You smiled at the message before falling onto your bed and hitting the FaceTime button.

_________

ANY MISTAKES/MISSPELLS TELL ME.

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Nettles

Masterlist

Rebloging supports writers!

Written: Sept 26, 2020 Paring: Dark!Sherlock Holmes x Black Female Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: +18, spanking, intimidation, assault, breeding kink, non-consensual sex, dubious consent. Proceed with caution. 

A/N: Thank you to my beta @titty-teetee​ for reading through this. I love ya. And to @littlefreya​ for planting the seed lol >:D

1886 - Near Maidstone

He promised. 

If Mr. Holmes was anything in this world, he was a man of his word. His broad figure relaxed against the thick stone doorway, neither staring at you or seemingly aware that you had on nothing but a white silken nightgown. But you know he does, little lapsed the attention of the great Sherlock Holmes. 

Though you trusted his word that he would stay away and not the malice you watched spontaneously arise in his brow, or the tautness tightening his jaw. What ever brought it on, you chose to remedy his inclinations, or rather lessen them completely. Light, shaky footsteps patted in your wake toward the chair near the fireplace. At least there, the robe could save your pride and conceal the reaction of being watched. But as you moved, so did he, quite swiftly with the excitement you figured a predator might have with his prey. 

Nothing could control your breaths, the panicked beating of your heart when he continued to approach. 

“The last time you were here-”

“Did I ask you to speak?” Sherlock inquired, with a damning tilt of his curly head he began to unfasten his vest. 

“This is my home-”

He stopped before you, fingers working down the front and tossed it to the floor. “I’ll ask again,” he raised his voice for a moment before lowering his eyes to you. “Our agreement was completely reliant upon your word.”

He yanked at the white cotton shirt undaming it from his slacks. “You were never to step foot in London again.”

Bare chested, wide and unforgivingly muscular you watched him as he bent down and began to unlace his boot. “I told you as long as there was this guarantee I would support your endeavors here. 

He pulled off one and sat it near the bed, “I would offer sage advice,” he did so with the second and sat it near the other. He stood up, taller than you remembered before, “To give you free reign to do as you saw fit.”

“Was this a mistake?” The condemning pitch in his deep voice had your eyes diverting toward the fire. 

“Woman, speak up.” 

“I was needed there.” your voice was small, though you still did not meet his eyes. “It was important, I never thought I would see him there-”

He tsked shortly and you stared back at his ominous glare. “Thinking is what got you in such a state?”

“I have free will. You are the one mistaken to think you can impose your priorities, your salacious tastes-”

His hand to your face ended your words in a tattered jumble. You jerked back but he kept you there, standing before his mighty judgment with his fingers and thumb squeezing your jaw. 

“I see you are in great need for reeducation.”

It was the first smile you had seen appear on his features. Those speculative blue eyes, now made dark within your room barley lit by the fire, grew joyous in delight. 

“No.” you insisted. He squeezed harder, pulled you toward his face. “I know. You help me, Mr. Holmes. I assure you-- I understand completely.”

“Forgive me love,” he snatched you around like a rag doll against his chest.  “-but I will not take you on your word at this time.” 

His hands, large and roaming clambered over your breasts, gathered the thin fabric there and began to rip. “You think I am a fool?” agitation laced the words that followed. “That I haven’t thought about the very moment you would slip?”

His head leaned over your shoulder, soft curls brushed against your naked shoulder. “You are mine.” he whispered into your ear. Still closer, he placed a kiss, wet, succulent lips pressed on to your neck. 

“I dare think of the day I would not have you in my life.” he said, quietly. “It would extraordinarily destroy my days after.”

His words sparked an idea within your mind. “If there is love to be had between us, you have made it uneven, Mr. Holmes.”

At that he grabbed for your arms and began to walk you toward the bed. His body pressed against yours and he forced you to unjustly mimic the direction. 

“Love?” With a light roll in his voice deep in his throat he bent you over. A warm hand pushing between your shoulder blades your hands fell to the bed.

A pause in his motions became a ray of hope for a moment. Either to reconcile what he was about to do or to think of any emotion he had for it it was welcomed. Your heart pounded harder when his lower body brushed against your ass. His hands gripped your skin through the gown, twisting and clinging to it as he pressed your firmer against the growing mound under his slacks. 

“I do not know the word fully,” he said and kept you still. “But I do know that I told you to stay here and never to see that man again. My emotions are singular in this, do as I say and I will pepper you with affection. My protection is love, what I afford you is love.”

Your fingers tangled within the sheet underneath them. “Your legs quiver. Are you beginning to understand the other side of my love?”

You quickly nodded. 

“Good girl.”

He slid to the side dragging the lump against you. A steady hand held the back of your neck as the other raised the hem of your nightgown over your bare ass. 

“Still lovely I see.”

You opened your mouth to defend, to say something, anything to make him forego the action to follow but only a gasp left your lips. He struck you quick on the center of your cheeks so hard your heels rose from the floor. 

A satisfied grunt, he tightened the hold on your neck and hit you again. And then again, while deliberately swiping his groin back and forth on to the edge of your hip. And he hit you again.

Pausing, he podded at your entrance, though you leaned forward to get away as he pushed inside anyway. 

“Are we understanding each other yet, love?” 

Your breathy whine cascaded into a moan as his fingers began to be coated in your wetness. 

He pulled out quickly and struck your ass again. “Speak.” the world grinding between his teeth.

“Yes,” he struck you again, making you yelp to answer. “Mr. Holmes, I do! -- I understand!”

“See, I am not sure you do.” He released your neck and swiveled back behind you. The clinking of his belt hitting the floor alerted you at once. “I intend to tie you to me.”

“The rules are there for a reason. I suspect an available woman, like yourself, wouldn’t understand the delicacy of society contracts.” 

At your slippery entrance something hot, fleshy, and large nudged. 

“Wives…” he pressed into you. “On the other hand,” an aching hum fluttered over his lips as he sank in deeper. “--they have to obey.”

He scraped over your ass and grabbed for the fabric of your gown, he balled it up in his fists and tore the back away exposing your skin. Fingers then dug deep into your sides and held you fast. His hips pulled back and then snapped forward into you. The crippling stretch had you falling to your elbows. Delicious rapture, as only he could provide you, seemed but a few motions away as he began to steadily pump into you.

“I expect--” he said with a restrained rasp, “children…”

The notion hit you to the core. Suddenly you clawed at the bed in an attempt to scamper away, but the only thing that occurred was him pushing you fully to the bed. He flipped you over, hooked one of your legs over his arm, his knee pressed into your upper calf and he entered you roughly. Spreading you wide, covering you with his body completely he held your arms at your head. Swirly curls hung over his face, draped over your brow as he began to kiss you. With this tongue prodding like his cock, craving more than you wanted to give, he licked your bottom lip and then pressed his lips on top of yours anyway. 

And the burst coursed through you, up from your center your muscles pulsed with every joy until you shattered into a mewling whimper. There out, the moment collided with visions of his eyes, his teeth bared as he plummeted you into the bed. For how long? You were uncertain. He gave no care how deep he drove, how fiercely he invaded your body which ended with him straining above you. A vein beating out of his forehead, eyes squeezed tight, lips wet with yours and his, he finished with a groan. 

Sherlock slackened, releasing your wrists, his knee removing the crushing weight, your leg over his arm fell to the bed. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared down at you.

“You are mine,” the urgentency in his voice persuaded you to touch his face, and then into his curls.  Brushing them back as he leaned his lips closer to yours. “Do you not know..how very important you are to me?”

He kissed you lightly, “I crave you every day, in every way possible, love. I just want you for myself..”

He cradled your head, his thumbs kneading the points of your jaws. “You nettle me. In the back of my head I think of you daily, hourly. I have no choice but to make you my wife.” 

“You said this was uneven..” his voice was light as he placed another gentle kiss on your lips. 

“--don’t you see it is you that rules me.”

[cardierreh15]

When Love Finds a way

I do not give anyone permission to copy or repost my work.

Warnings 18+: Blood , Nudity (Yes, Naked Henry) , Death .

Pairings: Henry Cavill(Drake/Dracula) x Mia/Misty(Black!plus size female)

Description: Dracula & Misty run into one another at the local coffee shop. Could it be… destiny?

Song: No Sunshine by Bill Withers , lovely (instrumental) by Billie Eilish & Khalid .

Word count: 3.6K

(Anything in italics are lyrics. Anything Bold & italics are Dracula’s thoughts)

Two

Aint no sunshine when she's gone. It's not warm when she's away. Ain't no sunshine when she's gone; she's always gone too long, anytime, she goes away.

The thunder roared outside, rattling the skylights and window patio doors. The sound didn’t take him out of his trance though.

Drake had a wooden brush clenched between his teeth as his left hand fingered and teased the paint, and used his right hand to push strokes across the canvas with his brush.

He pulled the brush from between his teeth and dipped it in the white to emphasize the glare in the honey brown. He then stood up from the wooden stool, hovering over his work of art.

Drake was adorned with splattered and smeared paint. He had a chiseled, godly frame. Muscular back, broad shoulders, big arms, tight abdomen and chest that donned thick curly hairs. He himself looked like a masterpiece.

So detailed down to the tiny patterns in her beautiful hazel irises; were the eyes of his beloved, Mia.

The lightning from outside brightened up the room around them, revealing over more than a dozen portraits of Mia. Most of them consisted of her in the color yellow or pink.

Others were just her body parts. Her lips, her naked waist and hips, her naked back with her shoulders and untamed curls cascading down her back. His personal favorite, her fingers interlocking with his; differentiating the sizes of their palms.

‘My dear Mia. Oh you’d be disappointed with how I use my time.’ He chuckled aloud as he wiped his cheek with the back of his wrist, smearing paint against his cheekbone.

And then he found himself staring into the large lively eyes he’d created. Getting lost in them as if she were still physically here.

***

Only darkness everyday, ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone. This house just ain’t no home, anytime she goes away.

He walked as his nose flared; chin trembling as he held his deceased love in his arms tightly. Her blood stained his white blouse. What use to run and pump warmth and life into her, ran cold and endless. His hands, forearms and his cheeks were covered in it.

The scent of her used to bring him a joy like no other, and now, seeing her defiled like this. Knowing the reason why her precious soul was taken, it sickened him.

He walked until he stopped at the entrance of a village. Hesitantly, he looked down at her before looking back ahead of him. ‘Help! Someone help! Someone help please!’ He screamed, and begged. His eyes searched for anyone that could help; some folk came peeking out of their doors, but only a few had the guts to rush over towards the mysterious man. Drake dropped weakly to his knees, but he never let go of his love.

‘What’s happened?!’ One of the onlookers came running over, seemingly looking to help at first.

‘S-she’s been stabbed…’ Drake stuttered, still not able to make sense of what’s happening, he looked up at the stranger before him. He was a short, bald, heavy set older man; he had to be the leader around here.

He was startled by Drake’s bright red eyes and took a step back. “Devil!” The man cried frighteningly, his eyes wide as saucers, a sharp pain shot through the man's heart. He clutched his chest. Others started to murmur, the men in the town pushed their children and wives back into the house as they found pointed objects.

Drake sighed heavily, jaws clinched in agitation; he inhaled deeply trying his best to calm his rage. ‘Listen, I mean no harm, ok? My wife— they killed my wife. Burned down my home. Killed my stock and cattle. I just need… I need some help… just to clean my wife and get her buried…’

“Begawn demon!” One man shouted with a large pickaxe in his hands, another man stepped forward, a cold stare in his eyes.

“We’re good Christian you heathen, if that woman was with you, we’ll then she’s better off dead. Maybe God will forgive her.” The man shook his head, his fingers wrapped around his weapon tightly, these people were surely blinded by their belief in God to think they could take on someone of Drake’s nature. He couldn’t believe the words that just came from this imbecile’s crusty lips.

“Are you ‘too good Christian’ to help your own?! How dare you, hypocrites.” He hissed, bright crimson blood pooled at his eyes, and only a single tear fell down his pale skin. ‘She believed in your God!’ He exclaimed with so much venom behind the word, ‘The same God whose brought you nothing but pain, death, illness and sorrow! Yet, she still believed in him! Just like the rest of you! Was she not good?!’

The crowd grew quiet. Only the sounds of the night could be heard around he and the crowd that surrounded him defensively. Bullfrogs croaked, Crickets chirped and beetles flapped their heavy wings.

As soon as Drake felt he was about to lose hope and his cool, someone spoke up in the crowd, ‘And what do we get if we aid you?!’

He searched the crowd as a woman walked forward. She had black thick and curly hair, her skin was brown and rich like the Earth’s soil. She wore trousers and a slightly stretched out blouse. It appeared to be somewhat of an off duty knight. Her clothes weren’t as damaged and raggedy as everyone else’s.

‘I-‘ he pressed his lips together. ‘Whatever it is that you want. I have no use of any more of my riches… I don’t plan on living on without her.’ Drake looked down at Mia once more. He wasn’t sure how many more tears he could shed. But he wasn’t ready to stop either.

‘Hmph… you’d save me the time then… c’mon now then.’ The pretty woman turned on the toes of her boots and walked back through the crowd; shoving people out of the way. Get out my way! What you lookin’ at?!

Drake felt his slow beating heart stiffen almost in his chest. He was relieved that someone was willing to help. So he stood up to his feet, adjusting Mia in his arms.

***

Drake placed Mia’s lifeless body on the cot. He knew this was probably the last time he’d see her. So he stared at her for as long as he possibly could. He had to take in every feature, knowing that it would be his last

The woman folded her arms across her chest, her head falling to the side.

‘What happened?’

He sat there for a moment before blinking away and looking over at the woman behind him. He felt his chest twist, tears filled his eyes once again before he just let out a shuddered sigh. ‘The Church… found out my hide away. Th-they said she’d been followed. She’d come to see me in the morning. We’d spend the day together,’ he scoffed and swallowed his sticky saliva before continuing. ‘She was the only reason I ever became a morning person… I’d risk burning myself countless times just to be with her and th—‘ his voice was strained; drowned in own tears and despair.

And when Drake had enough strength to speak, darkness reflected in his words as if they looked into a mirror, ‘They took her. from. me!’

The woman watched in silence, studying the picture before her. ‘How long have you and her been—together?’ She asked.

‘A little over a year and a half… she was the reason why I never went back into hunting and killing,’ he looked back at her. His eyes were so sad and lifeless. It almost seem unreal, like sad painting. ‘Because of her, I cherished human life. I saw the potential in your lives. So I went without drinking human blood for that duration.’

Her eyebrows tugged into one, ‘If you weren’t drinking humans then what—‘

‘Animals… particularly moose. Boar. Sometimes bear— anything I could get my hands on really.’

‘M-my God…’ The woman was in disbelief! Could he have been that in love to completely risk his livelihood?

Everyone deserved to love, and perhaps if you are capable of loving, you’re capable of changing. She thought to herself.

‘And so they call…’ he scoffed, his head falling forward; shaking side to side.

‘I don’t think you’re the vampire they are after!’ Drake didn’t say anything, he didn’t much care. Instead, he just grabbed Mia’s hand and placed his cold lips against her cold flesh. He’d just hoped for a small sign of life from her. But he was disappointed once more when reality set in by the second.

The sound of her heeled boots quickly clicked across the wooden floor. ‘Look. I ain’t too keen with working with your kind,’ she said with a slight bitterness, ‘But if I were in your position… I’d do whatever it is that I needed to be done so that my partner gets the justice they deserve…’

Dracula looked up at her with wet eyes. He knew what her suggestion was.

‘That’s just me though…’ she threw up her hands In defense.

He stood to his feet slowly, his thick brows tugging into one,‘Are you suggesting—‘

‘THAT’S… just me now…’ she took a step closer to him, low enough for him to hear, ‘Do what you must. Besides, these folk could use some protectin’ roun’ here,’ She looked over at his wife for a second, ‘She shall be in tip top shape upon your return. And when you get back… we can perhaps discuss a partnership.’ She then stepped back and jerked her head towards the door. ‘Gone head nah. Before I change my mind!’

Dracula gave the woman a gentle nod before turning back to his love, ‘She’ll— she’ll take care of you— my love.’ He then placed his bloodied hand on top of hers.

His chin trembled as he stared at his wife’s corpse. Even in death, she was breathtaking.

‘I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Mia. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted.’ He sniffed, wiping his tears before letting out a shaky sigh, ‘I love you… And I’m gonna make this right.’

Dracula pushed her hair behind her ear. ‘Until we meet again my love…’

He looked back over at the woman, darkness clouding his eyes, ‘How far is the Church’s village?’

‘On horseback? About a day’s ride… the sun could be quite dangerous for someone like you.’

Drake pressed his lips together, knowing what he’d have to do to get there faster. ‘Indeed… I must leave,’ he walked towards the wooden door.

‘I never caught your name. I-I want to thank you.’

The woman placed her hands on her widened hips and a smirk curled on her lips, ‘No need to thank me,’ she said raising her hand in protest, ‘Make it back alive and I’ll tell you everything.’

***

A loud thunder clap shook him out of his own head. A smirk curled on his lips slowly, ‘I know… I’m goin’, I’m goin’… I just wanted to take the time to admire you for a bit longer…’

A soft low thunder rumbled, causing his apartment to shake a little.

‘I miss you too…’ he sighed softly.

Shortly after, he gathered his brushes and carried them to the sink and washed them carefully. Afterwards, he set them on a towel to dry.

Before leaving his “showcase” room, he took one more good look at her, ‘Good Night Mia. I love you.’ And he shut the door behind him.

***

Drake stood beneath the hot shower; allowing the water to beat down on his head and the rest of his messy body. He loved these kinds of nights. Since his body didn’t generate it’s own sweat or neither did he get funky, he’d somehow subconsciously yet— perhaps on purpose, smear himself up in paint so he could shower. It was the only thing that reminded him of her. The warmth of her pretty brown skin and how she’d hold him close.

Otherwise, he truly had no other excuse to be in the shower.

Lifting his head up, he ran his fingers through his hair; pushing it back out of his face. He then reached over for his washcloth, and liquid soap. Once he lathered it up, he rubbed those smooth suds into his skin and scrubbed off whatever paint that was left on his body.

Afterwards, he sat in the shower until the water ran cold. He got out and got dressed in something modest and simple. It was still raining outside, and he would’ve hated for his suits to have gotten wet.

He’d dressed in a cotton light gray long sleeved shirt. It had 3 buttons at the chest. He left only one open. Then, he pulled on some briefs and some dark denim jeans and some brown boots.

Drake dried his thick black hair with a towel and then blow dried it. His locks fell wavy and soft against his head.

Once he was done getting dressed, he grabbed his sketchbook, his wallet and keys. Then, he left.

This was the only time Dracula really enjoyed the outdoors in the daytime. The sky had to be dark with clouds and/or pouring down raining. He could smell and feel how refreshed Mother Earth felt when it did. As if the rain was cleansing everything around him.

He also found it funny when unprepared humans would just cover their heads with newspapers or their hands trying to get to cover. Such clumsy creatures.

Closing down his umbrella, he walked inside of a coffee shop. The smell of freshly brewed coffee made love to his senses and caused a slight drool to pool in his mouth.

Coffee was Dracula’s guilty pleasure. Human food was disgusting. Anything processed, would taste as if he were biting into the metal or plastic that kept them fresh. Or, he’d taste the hormones and the particles. If he had to eat human food just to blend in, he’d simply throw it up later. But coffee, he liked his Americano. No sugar. No cream. Just— beans and hot water.

The baristas shouted, desynchronized “Heeey!” “Drake!” “Yooo!”

They were all very happy to see him. After all, it had been quite some time since he’d been down here.

A toothy grin curled on his lips as he placed his wet umbrella up against his booth and placed his book down on the table. ‘Shannon, Luis, Jang. How are all of you?’ Then he walked up to the counter.

‘We’re holding up… we’ve missed ya down here. We were starting to think you moved away or sumn!’ Jang said with a slight smirk.

‘Yeah! Shannon was starting to get sad!’ Laughed Luis.

‘Hey!’ Shannon laughed and smacked Luis on the arm, ‘You’re gonna get enough of telling my business! How are you, D?’

Dracula had been coming to the local coffee shop for about 10 years now. Way before his friend’s arrival. The owners, Lee and Jennifer, had always been kind to him and welcoming. Introducing him to their own families and friends. Having him over for dinner some nights.

Until one night they’d suffered greatly when half of the shop burned down. Drake had heard about this terrible incident and had written them an anonymous check for $40K for repairs. Til this day, the couple hadn’t had a single clue who’d gifted them with something so life changing. And it were to stay that way.

‘I thought I asked you to call me Drake?’ He smirked, pulling out his wallet.

‘I know. But I think D fits you best,’ the woman giggled, ‘The Usual today?’

‘Mmhmm,’ he nodded before placing the $20 bill in her hand. ‘Could you bring it to my booth?’

‘Sure. Anything for my—‘ Shannon paused for a second, getting lost in those bright crimson eyes. Sure she had a crush before, but it had only gotten extreme. ‘Main. Man.’ And a slow smile curled on her lips.

Dracula returned the smile and nodded once, ‘Thank you, Shan.’ And he turned away to walk to his booth.

As soon as he sat down, he opened up his book full of sketches. Some pages were of flowers, mountains and rivers, oceans and the sky. But others were of people he’d come across in his life. But mostly, Mia.

Strangely enough though, he didn’t feel like drawing her today. Technically.

He’d quickly got started on a face. Allowing just his hand and mind to come together; not really thinking.

‘One Americano.’ Shannon said softly with a smile, placing the large mug down on the porcelain dessert plate. ‘Thank you, Shannon. It smells delightful.’ He smiled looking up at her.

‘Anytime.’ She sighed softly before pulling her eyes away to look at his sketch. ‘What ya workin’ on?’

Dracula looked back down at the large sheet of paper. In just a minute’s time he’d already drawn and detailed an eye and a nose. ‘Nothing special just— sketching.’

‘Nice! You’re really talented!’ Shannon jumped when the bell chimed over the door.

He instantly went stiff at her scent. ‘Misty! Hi, welcome back!’ Shannon greeted her with a smile, ‘I have to get back to work. Have fun.’ She said, placing her dainty hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Drake inhaled deeply, as her heart beat seem to thud louder and louder in his ears. The smell of flowers just kept tickling at his nose. It was intoxicating! He was drawing but he couldn’t focus! All that he could see embedded in his brain was her gorgeous smile, her big, thick curly hair, her hazel eyes.

This is probably the closest he’s ever been to drowning. All until,

‘Drake?’

‘Huh?’ He lifted his head quickly.

She was standing there with a sweet yet, puzzled look on her face. Oh she was to die for.

‘I didn’t know you came to this coffee shop!’

‘Misty! Hi! Oh, yeah—‘ he chuckled as his eyes roamed over her body once. The perfect frame. Voluptuous breasts, a tummy, wide hips and thick thighs. ‘I-I know the owners. Been coming here for a few years now.’

‘That’s cool! Hey, do you mind if I join you? I just have a few more minutes to kill before I have to head back to work.’

Of course I mind. You’re only the love of my life’s doppelgänger! I don’t even know what to say or do right now.

‘No, please!’ Lying bastard.

Misty sat down in front of him with a gentle smile on her lips. She watched him take a sip of his coffee first before he went back to sketching upon the white sheet. ‘You draw too? What are you working on?’ She asked before sipping out of her straw.

Drake swallowed his spit as he scribbled, ‘Just some random… portrait.’

‘Hmm! It’s pretty. You take commissions?’

‘Commissions?’ He asked a bit confused, ‘Like pay? No. I do this for fun.’

Misty smirked, adjusting herself in her seat before folding her arms on top of the wooden table, ‘So, if I asked you to do one for me… you’d do it?’

Dracula looked up at her, sizing her face before his eyes dropped to her neck, then her chest. Then, he looked back up into her eyes, ‘If you’d ask me…’

She just stared at him and he just stared at her. Misty finally looked away with a giggle, ‘I-I couldn’t ask that of you. Supplies are getting more and more expensive by the day and art takes time and patience. I couldn’t do that. I’d have to pay you—‘

‘I wouldn’t have it…’ he interrupted. ‘I have enough…’ he paused for a second, ‘I don’t mind.’

She raised a brow, sitting back into her seat. ‘You are stubborn… well at least let me take you out? What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?’ She asked with a smile.

He chuckled as he continued to sketch, ‘You’re asking a complete stranger out on a date? I could be a murderer.’

‘Yeah, you could be. But how would I know if I don’t try?’

You’re just like her… in so many ways.

Drake shook his head as his smirk remained on his face, ‘I work… I’m free after 7pm.’

‘Hmm.. alright. Well, do you have a phone? So I can plug my number in?’

A phone. Dracula was never the type to keep friends so he never thought getting a phone was a logical investment for him. ‘I don’t.’

‘No phone? In the 21st century? Well, I’d say you like to live your life on the edge! What if you were to ever be in danger?!’ She sounded concerned.

Danger? Ha, oh darling, I am the danger.

Drake chuckled and shrugged, ‘Then if it’s my time to go.. it’s my time to go. We didn’t—‘ he bit his tongue and stopped once again. He was getting way too comfortable. ‘I don’t need one.’

Misty took a sip of her ice coffee and shook her head, ‘Well, Mr. “I’m too righteous” for a phone. You should invest in one.’

‘Why?’

‘Cause how would I call you?’

Damn… she’s smooth.

Drake pressed his lips together. He swallowed his spit, feeling as if there was a UV light burning in the pit of his stomach. She had no idea of the chokehold she had on him at this moment. ‘I’ll think about it.’ He said before going back to his sketch.

‘Alright. Well, just,’ she stood up from her seat and picked up her drink, ‘Meet me back here tomorrow evening. 7:45pm.’

He looked up at her as a slow smile curled on his lips, ‘Sure.’

‘I gotta head back now. See you then.’ She said before walking towards the door.

‘Yeah,’ he said before she walked out of the door. ‘See ya.’

Turning back to his sketch before his, he hadn’t even realized he had already worked on her full lips.

‘Dammit.’ He’d cursed.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

I’ll always reblog this because people complain about inclusivity when I add x black!reader but then do this shit.

Like, honestly? Ima fuck your father for that rudeness. Don’t tempt me.

me: *begins reading fic*

the reader: *turns red*

me:

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

Henry Cavill Masterlist

Here you will find all of my Henry Cavill works, arranged by character and type of work.

One-Shots

Forever And A Day - Explicit - Geralt x Black!OFC - Geralt and Lavinia share a passionate reunion.

Events

You're Mine | Geralt of Rivia + Female Reader + Daddy Kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

Series

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing)

Touch and Go (possibly ongoing)

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Requests

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Reader - You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Challenges

Fifteen Minutes - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Unnamed Black!OFC - What Walter does with 15 minutes of his time.

Headcanons

Hobbies

Events

A Little Fresh Air | Walter Marshall + Female Reader + Public Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe - Explicit - Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader - Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

Some Things You Just Can’t Refuse - Explicit - Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader - A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Don’t Kill My Vibe - Explicit - Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader - You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Requests

Happy Birthday, Cupcake - General - Clark Kent x PlusSize!Reader - Clark surprises you for your birthday.

Praise You - General - Clark Kent x Insecure PlusSize!Reader - Clark Kent loves everything about you, especially what you think are your flaws.

One-Shots

What Are You Doing, StepBro? - Explicit - Humphrey x Stepsister!Reader - You and Humphrey don’t have the best start, but before long you will reach an arrangement.

Requests

Doing Something Unholy - Explicit - Charles Brandon x Reader - This is a prompt fill for some teasing of Charles Brandon and then him taking over.

Series

Scrapbook (finished) - Side characters include Walter Marshall, Evan Marshall, Syverson, and Gus March-Phillipps

One-Shots

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut] {DARKER FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Series

Love, Napoleon (ongoing)

One-Shots

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl - Explicit - Napoleon Solo x Reader - Napoleon wines and dines.

Series

Daddy Knows Best (possibly on hiatus)

One-Shots

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut] {DARKER FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Treat Me Like A Slut - Explicit - August Walker x Reader - August has had enough of your antics, and you’re going to pay for it.

Requests

Executive Temptation - Explicit - CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader - You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?

One-Shots

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind - Explicit - Sherlock Holmes x Reader - As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Requests

The Paganini Problem - Mature - Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader - Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him.

Series

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Challenges

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out - Mature - Syverson x Reader - When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU.

Requests

Shape-Up - Explicit - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Drabbles

My Little Strawberry - Mature - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - A follow-up to Shape Up. Sy has a conversation with his baby girl while she’s still in your stomach. 

Events

Say It Again | Captain Syverson + Female Reader + Phone Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Nothing More Than An Animal - Explicit - Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader - After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Clark Kent (Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League)

Humphrey (Stardust)

Charles Brandon (The Tudors)

Mike (Hellraiser: Hellworld)

Napoleon Solo (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.)

August Walker (Mission: Impossible - Fallout)

Gus March-Phillips (The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare)

Will Shaw (The Cold Light of Day)

Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes films)

Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)

Evan Marshall (Blood Creek)

Melot (Tristan and Isolde)

Thomas Apreas (Hotel Laguna)

Chas Quilter (The Inspector Lyndley Mysteries)

Stephen Colley (I Capture the Castle)

Henry!Wolvie AKA The Cavillrine (Deadpool & Wolverine)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR HENRY

FULL MASTERLIST IS HERE.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

*WIP THURSDAY*

I was tagged by the lovely @slippinninque and I'm happy to share some sneak peeks into my WIPs 📖

I have three recent WIPs (besides my series I am still working on), and I'm excited to list them here:

1. The Siren of Baker Street - Henry Cavill!Sherlock Holmes x Black!OFC (Explicit - smut) - Sherlock is enamored with a new client.

"Before she knew it, Pearl is kneeling next to Sherlock’s armchair. Her shivering hands reaching out to warm herself by the fire. Sherlock watches quietly as the fire illuminates her face in an ethereal glow. In contrast to the warmth of the fire, Sherlock is frozen in his spot as he contemplates his next move."

2. Untitled* - Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Chubby!Black!Fem!Reader (Explicit - smut/violence) - Lloyd deals with a toxic alpha male that is bothering you.

"He was always a fan of this outfit because it hugged all of your curves. The halter top accented your full breasts with a healthy amount of cleavage. The high-waisted fitted skirt showed off your wide hips and thick thighs and stopped just under your knee. A pair of stilettos, with a little buckle that Lloyd bends down to secure, completes the ensemble."

*This story is actually based on an ask i received (nonny, I love your ideas btw).

3. Don't Kill My Vibe - Henry Cavill!Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader (Explicit - smut/weed use) - You finally agree to help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

"You were already elevated, having taken a couple puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “oh wow” every so often. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick and Clark wasn’t stupid."

I'm switching back and forth between writing all of these at the same time. Yes, that's crazy, but so is writing for free and praying for the dopamine that creative feedback gives us.

I'm open to any questions about these sneak peeks as well, I welcome it, honestly.

no pressure tags: @raccoon-eyed-rebel @blackwood4stucky @ronearoundblindly @navybrat817 @targaryenvampireslayer

@winter2112rose @hansensgirl @vellicore

[jokeringcutio]

Story Commissions

I'm raising money for 2025 goals

Let's start the new year with opening up some commission slots. You can help me out and keep me writing by commissioning a story via my Ko-Fi [ Here ]

(No fixed prices & surprise donations without reuqests are also welcome)

for examples, browse my blog & masterlist. In this post: [1] Get Inspired (See what I have written for and what others enjoyed [2] How does it work (everything you might be wondering, including why I am holding this action to raise funds and why I have been less active lately)

I don't need a story but want to help out

You can donate via Ko-fi and have my eternal gratitude :)

Get inspired:

Most recent fills have been Arthur Harrow x ftm reader, among my more popular works are: Scream's Stu Macher (stepbrother), FNAF William Afton (also Stepdad series), Black Phone's Albert Shaw & Moon Knight's Arthur Harrow fics.

Among characters I have written for are: Stranger Things (Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Vecna/Henry Creel, Billy Hargrove), Dead Boy Detectives (Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland, Niko, Crystal, basically all), One Piece (Buggy), Crimson Peak (Thomas Sharpe, Dr. Alan McMichael), (Blue Eye Samurai) Abijah Fowler, Terrifier (Art the clown), Baldur's Gate 3 (Gale, Astarion), Joker (Arthur Fleck, Heath Ledger Joker), Scream (Stu Macher, Billy Loomis), Black Phone (Albert Shaw), Moon Knight (Arthur Harrow, Jake Lockley/Steven/Marc), House of a 1000 Corpses (Otis Driftwood, Baby), Halloween (Michael Myers), Rocky Horror Picture Show ( De. Frank-N-Further, Riff Raff, Magenta, Comubia), Tanz der Vampire/Fearless Vampire Killers (Alfred, Herbert rt von Krolock), Harry Potter (Professor Snape, Remus Lupin, Scabior Snatcher, Draco Malfoy), Enola Holmes (Enola Holmes, Sherlock Holmes (Also BBC version), Joost Klein (The music artist), Once Upon A Time (Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin), Peter Pan (Captain Hook), Game of Thrones (Arya, Jaqen H'ghar, Jon Snow), Doctor Who (Tenth Doctor, Twelfth Doctor), Blake's 7 (Roj Blake, Kerr Avon, Servalan, Soolin, Tarrant), Lord of the Rings (Aragorn, Legolas, Frodo) & The Hobbit (Fíli, Kíli, Thorin), Rings of Power (Adar), First Reformed (Ernst Toller), NCIS (Ziva David, Leroy Jethro Gibbs), Alice in Wonderland (Alice, Mad Hatter, Knave of Hearts (Ilosovic Stayne) 2010 movie version), Sweeney Todd, Romeo & Juliet (Also musical versions, mostly wirtten about Mercutio, Tybalt, Benvolio and Romeo), Star Wars (Kylo Ren, General A. Hux, Luke Skywalker), Mystic Knights of Tir Na Nog (Angus, Rowan), Xena Warrior Princess (Xena, Gabrielle), Wednesday & The Addams Family

See any series/characters not listed, just poke me first. Among my specialities are: Dark fics, VillainxReader, Pregnancy kink, Older man/younger woman, height difference, reader inserts (you pov, no names and abbreviations used).

How does it work?

You can donate via my Ko-fi and leave a prompt

I'm known to write around 3000 words, even when I say it will just be a 1000 word short thing (others know I might get carried away). I won't make promises, but if you donate more, you'll get more words. I have deliberately not set a fixed amount for the tales because I am happy with every little help I can get.

What will you write and what won't you?

I will write sfw, sweet tales, but also explicit content and most kinks. I love writing from a reader's perspective (2nd person) but can do 1st person or 3rd. I can write about you, your OC, or your favorite pairing. I'll write het, slash mxm/fxf, poly. I won't write underage or miscarriage-related content.

If you doubt, DM me

If you want to know if I'll write about your characters or have more details to share than fits inside the ko-fi box, sent me a message on here.

Why not work a proper job to get your money?

I can't work because of Long Covid.

What am I saving for?

A new laptop (299 euros) & A table/attendance to the Spice & Steamy Bookevent in Amsterdam in Octorber 2025 (apr. 100 euros)

Girl, we haven't seen you around for ages, why now?

True! As those who have followed me for years know, I fell ill in 2020 and have been very irregular with updating. Due to Long Covid, I barely have energy and time to write as I am asleep a lot. It also means I can't work a proper job any longer. Which sucks. I'm currently a stay-at-home mom. Still sleeping a lot.

I have had surgery last August, removing my womb etc, got rid of a tumor and have been feeling a lot better since. But like I said, still limited energy thanks to the long-term drag of covid and sleeping a lot.

Any plans?

Yes! You haven't really seen me around last year because I tried to focus my energy on writing original tales to publish in 2025, since I can't work a proper job. I'd saved up money to achieve that goal (buy cover, hire editor) but then my laptop broke down and I had to use up my savings to replace it). Any more questions? Just ask! :)

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Ahhhhhhh this was so good!!!!! Omg. Actually perfect. Fantastic work!

Fresh Air and Exercise

01/28/2023

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x wife!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 3,221

Warnings: gave the reader a specific maiden name for reasons and she has hair falling into her face (no other explicit descriptions though), domestic fluff, mild teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, more fluff

Summary: Sherlock may have refused to join his wife for an afternoon walk, but that doesn't mean he has to pass up on the much needed exercise altogether.

A/N: I started this some time ago and left it untouched for far too long, but you may have noticed that I am quite in the mood for finishing things up at the moment. Hope you like it.

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

The glow of the afternoon sun still fresh on her cheeks, she felt light as air as she danced down the hallway. Gentle fingers softly caressed a colourful bouquet of wild flowers she had picked on her stroll, secretly wishing it was her husband’s touch she could feel against her fingertips. Alas, he was busy with a case, as always, and his refusal to join her for her walk still stung a little. Not as much as it had the moment he had sent her off to explore the budding riches of spring on her own, but enough to remind her heart of the disappointment as she rounded the corner and her eyes found him in an instant.

It seemed he hadn’t moved one inch in her absence, his broad shoulders still filling the leather chair in front of the desk in his study. She hated seeing him so tense, although she probably should have gotten used to the sight by now, as it was always the same when things just didn’t seem to add up. He could bury himself in that study for days, shutting out the entire world to be alone with his thoughts.

Well, maybe not entirely alone. And although he had never formally invited her or told her that he enjoyed her company, he had also never objected to it, until one day she had found a beautiful wingback covered with the softest crimson velvet in the corner of the room, facing his desk, and that had been all the confirmation she needed. From that day on, she had made it her personal duty to ensure that he didn’t lose himself in his mind completely. After all, even if it was hard to believe sometimes, he was a human being and as such he needed nourishment, fresh air and exercise like ordinary people.

Usually, it didn’t take her too much effort to convince him of the benefits a short walk by her side would have, but today he had simply refused to acknowledge that the exercise would help him clear his mind. Stubborn git.

Without a sound, she slipped into his territory and drew closer, coming to a halt directly behind him, yet he didn’t even flinch when her hand entered his periphery to set the vase down next to a pile of papers. Maybe he had heard her despite his state of utter concentration, but even without seeing his face, she rather assumed that his dwindling reflexes were most likely the effect of his growing weariness.

“I’m back,” she whispered against his temple as her arms wrapped around his tightly wound shoulders before they drifted further down along his chest and her lips allowed themselves the silky touch of his warm skin.

“How was your afternoon stroll, my love?”

“Refreshing, as expected. Yet it was lacking a little…charm.”

An amused chuckle rose from the depth of his chest and she enjoyed the slight tremble underneath the palms of her hands. To her great relief, he finally seemed to desist from his task and allowed himself to sink against the back rest. And as if that hadn’t been enough to fill her heart with joy, tender fingers wrapped around her hand to bring it up against his lips for a gesture of unadulterated affection.

“Sherlock, you really shouldn’t hide yourself in this study all day. You too need fresh air and exercise.”

“So you keep telling me.” Another deep chuckle filled the room as to her surprise he stood and took the few steps to the window behind them. “But I think you are mistaken, my dear. I still can get plenty of fresh air without setting a single foot outside of this room.”

With a wry smile that was supposed to tell her he thought this topic of their conversation had been discussed at length, his fingers wrapped around the handle and yanked the window open. But the corners of his mouth soon fell, his forehead wrinkling in a frown as she decided to join him by the window. She simply knew him too well, and that had always been his greatest weakness. And she could see the realisation in his eyes the moment her body pressed into his and her hands snaked around his strong neck.

“But what about the exercise?”

He took his sweet time, seemingly pondering her question, but they both knew he had made up his mind long before his arms wrapped around her middle and his fingers squeezed her alluring backside.

“I’m sure we can think of something.”

It didn’t take much for him to hoist her up and walk them both back over to his desk where he gently sat her down. His chest firmly leaning against her own, he left her no choice but to yield and recline until she needed her elbows for support. All the while, a pair of gleaming eyes held her gaze, and it would have needed nothing more to keep her in place, his eyes and the promise of divine pleasure they silently made her.

His hand had already busied itself with her skirts, gliding along the bare skin of her calf in agonising hastelessness, when he suddenly halted and tore his eyes away from hers.

“Will you look at that.” There was nothing slow or gentle anymore about the way he pushed her skirts up the rest of the way. “Taking a stroll without a pair of knickers?” He tutted, his eyes a significant amount darker when they found her again. “How scandalous.”

“In my defence, I was hoping for your…stimulating company.”

“No need to defend yourself. It is rather convenient actually.”

Without a warning his fingers found her heat. Helpless upon the overwhelming sensation of his unexpected touch, all she could do was gasp. His mouth was so irritably close to hers, inhaling every sigh and every whimper that fell from her lips, and yet he denied her the kiss she so desperately longed for.

“Is this what you were hoping for when you asked me to join you on your stroll, my sweet? Being pressed up against a tree, my fingers buried inside you to the hilt? Or would you have preferred being laid down on a soft patch of clover to have me make tender love to you?”

Forming a verbal answer seemed impossible while he kept toying with her, his eyes looking all shiny blue, pupils blown wide with lust, but before she even had the chance to confirm either one of his suspicions, he stopped.

She was just about to protest when she realised he had good reason for this most unwelcome intermission. Both of his hands determined to free himself, they were tugging, yanking at his shirt and trousers and she was sure his impatience would come at the cost of a tear in the fine fabric when he finally succeeded.

Sherlock wouldn’t waste another second, he never did in the state he was in now. He wanted her, and he was more than ready as he lined himself up. She couldn’t wait to feel him, feel the delicious rush of the first stretch, of becoming one with her beloved. But Sherlock was always full of surprises, and she could hardly suppress a groan of protest as he chose to halt once again.

Yet his lips appeased her immediately, pressing to hers in the tenderest of kisses. He hummed in appreciation when her mouth fell open, welcoming him in. The faint taste of Black Shag tobacco still lingered on his tongue, a plain and simple flavour, the very opposite of the man who loved smoking it, but intoxicating her just as much.

She loathed breaking away from him, but the languid roll of his hips left her no choice. With a heady moan her fingers found his back, fisting his shirt as she pulled herself up against him. He wrapped his arms around her likewise, whether this was supposed to be a gesture of affection or a mere means to secure her in place while he had his way with her she couldn’t tell, and she didn’t care. His angle was immaculate, the tip of his manhood brushing past the very spot that made her see stars with every stroke. And yet, his pace was just a tad too slow to take her there.

“Sherlock, please,” she whimpered against his ear, but as soon as she could hear the smug smile resonate in his reply, she regretted having opened her mouth in the first place.

“I thought you wanted me to do some exercise. Where’s the point in this being over so soon then?”

A pointed thrust, slow but reaching deep. And then another. Solely designed to make it almost impossible for her to retort. And yet she did.

“Nobody said that it is you who has to finish yet,” she pressed out through gritted teeth.

“I fear it’s quite impossible to find a flaw in that line of argument.”

His grin held an almost irritable amount of pride despite his obvious defeat. And before she had even fathomed his words, he budged. Hips speeding up, he clutched her even tighter against his chest. He must have sensed it seconds before the tension took hold of her body, before her breaths became shallow, more rapid with every inhale, before she clung to his wide shoulders as if her life depended on it, before the quivering started and turned into violent clenches around him. Violent but oh so sweet, luring him closer to his own release.

Not yet, not yet, he thought, as his gaze fell upon the armchair right behind her. The very armchair she usually sat in and watched him work. He had been the one to put it there since, strangely enough, her presence seemed to help him think. Although sometimes it did a little more than that and he found his thoughts wandering, his mind drifting off to the image of her naked form, straddling him, moving on top of him in that exact chair.

Her mind was still clouded in a blissful haze when he picked her up, still buried deep inside of her as he made his way around the desk and carefully took a seat in the space that was on any other day strictly reserved for her. A deep sigh escaped her lips, burning the skin of his shoulder even through the light fabric of his shirt, as his length was neatly settled inside of her again.

Slowly the weight of her head lifted off his shoulder and he seized his chance to cup her face and pull it towards his. She tasted so sweet, fruity with a touch of vanilla, a flavour he had been addicted to since their very first kiss.

“My darling,” he whispered into her mouth, his lips refusing to part from hers, “do you think you can move for me?”

Oh, she would. And how she would, he realised as her lips curled against his. She never passed a chance to seek revenge for his darned teasing. And right now, he counted on that.

A deep, drawn out sound rose from his chest, a contented hum to praise the rhythmic rolls of her hips, rocking back and forth, taking him in and releasing him almost entirely, a delicious torture, repeated over and over again. He was glad she had once again refused to wear a corset today which in turn provided him with the privilege to feel the unparalleled softness of her bosom through the light fabric of her dress.

It seemed his eagerness to feel her was even exceeded by her own desire to touch his skin, judging from the way her fingers had begun to work on his clothes, clawing and ripping at his waistcoat, his tie, his shirt, not relenting for the world until they had succeeded and were free to dive into the fluffy hair that covered his chest.

“My turn,” he growled, his impatience taking hold of him more and more with every caress of her fingers, until it washed away the last bit of his restraint and made him pull the dress from her shoulders in one harsh movement. The power her bare breasts had over him was ridiculous, still he didn’t fight the state of hypnosis they held him in. They were magnificent, bouncing in tune with her rolling hips, begging him to cup them, knead them, wrap his lips around those pebbled buds and make her sing. But as soon as his hands finally made contact with their heavenly softness, he changed his mind.

“Didn’t you get enough exercise on your walk already?” She halted, looking down on him in confusion. “You know, I thought this was supposed to be my exercise. Or am I mistaken?”

Despite the wolfish grin on his lips, she still didn’t understand.

“But didn’t you just ask me to—”

“Forget what I said.”

And before she could protest once more, he lifted her hips, allowing himself enough space to drive into her from underneath at his leisure.

“Oh god,” she keened, desperate hands clutching the rim of the backrest tightly. It didn’t need a detective like Sherlock Holmes to tell that she was close again. As was he, teetering on the edge with every thrust, grunting and groaning in the fight against himself. Her grip on him grew tighter and tighter, making it almost impossible not to yield. Sweat was beading on his skin, his jaw clenching so hard he feared for the soundness of his teeth.

He wasn’t going to last, impossible, everything about her called to him, begged him to let go, making him certain he was only one more second away from either madness or salvation, when at last his name echoed through the study in a shameless moan, finally freeing him from his agony.

He pulled her close, resting his head amidst the two supple globes that had hypnotised him, celebrating every last moment of their shared delight. Hearts racing and then slowing in tune, he pressed his lips into the valley of her breasts to feel the strong pulsing as close to the source as he could get.

“Enough exercise for one day,” he mumbled against her skin.

“Well actually, dear husband, as you pointed out yourself, you really only did half of the work.”

The suggestive notion of her comment made him chuckle and he would have loved to satisfy her insatiable appetite for more, alas…

“You are right once again, dear wife, and I would genuinely like to go forth with the second half of the exercise right now, but I’m afraid my attention is needed elsewhere.”

Although he hadn’t meant to, his words had hurt her. Her pride forbade her from voicing the displeasure his rejection had caused, but there was no need to say it out loud. It was all there in her eyes.

“Oh, I know that face.”

“Sherlock…”

She had no idea how much it cost him to resist that honeyed plea, but he still had a case to solve.

“I’m sorry, my darling, I wish I could.”

He wanted to look away, escape the mixture of wound and concern in her eyes, but she didn’t let him, soft palms cupping his cheeks to ensure his gaze. Her voice was just as tender as her touch.

“But you can. It’s just that you don’t want to. If you chose to observe yourself with the same precision you reserve for your cases for once, you would clearly see that what you really need is rest.”

Sherlock stayed silent. What was he supposed to say to that? She was right, of course. So instead he just took her in, his fingers speaking of his affection as they gently brushed a couple of stray strands of hair from her face, loosened by their passionate lovemaking.

How could he even once think about his case or himself when he was blessed with this view? She looked breathtaking, the soft light of the late afternoon sun glowing around her form. If he had believed in the supernatural, he would have thought she was an angel and in some way, she probably was. His angel.

Mycroft had only met her a few times, calling her “a pretty little thing”. He had never been more wrong. She was neither little nor a thing and describing her as pretty was such an understatement that it bordered on an insult. Then again, his brother had always judged women solely based on their appearance, their manners and education.

She had all that, being a perfectly decent lady if need be, but there was something else to her, something wild and untamed, like a force of nature. It had irritated him at first, infuriated even. It still did sometimes. But while he loved the many facets of her personality so very dearly, he knew that they would terrify and most likely disgust his brother alike, a fact that satisfied him more than it probably should.

“What are you smiling about, my love?”

He hadn’t even noticed the placid curl of his lips.

“Nothing.”

It had always fascinated him how a person could seem like one thing to a man and yet like a completely different one to another. It was almost as if she were a coin with two faces, or had a twin sister, swapping places with her from time to time.

“Of course!” The epiphany shot through his body like lightning, making her gasp as he suddenly sat up straight. “That’s it.” His hands reached out for her face and pulled her down for a passionate kiss. “You’re a genius.”

“Me? Whatever did I do?”

Wasn’t that obvious? “You solved the case.”

“By doing what?”

With a wicked grin he reached for her lovely bottom, his fingers squeezing her cheeks while his eyebrow shot up suggestively.

“Oh.” The grin on her lips began to match his own when she finally realised. “I told you some exercise would do you good.”

Slowly his hands glided up the length of her back, weaving into her hair and bringing her closer once more. “You did, didn’t you?” His lips were still lingering on hers from the softest of kisses when he went on, his voice not louder than a whisper, “Whatever would I do without you, my dear Watson?”

He hadn’t called her by her maiden name in quite a while. But every now and then, on special occasions, he loved to remind himself of the time they had first met, and the pure elation of the moment she had agreed to exchange that name for his.

“You’d be practically lost, Mr Holmes.”

“No doubt about it.”

Her lips found his again, soft at first, but he could feel the hunger for more, taste it on her tongue the second it met his. And he was more than willing to sate it, give her everything she desired and then some. Like she deserved, his one and only love.

His mind was already beginning to shut down and allow him the rest he so utterly needed when one final thought broke through the haze of rekindling desire. He had no idea why she had chosen him back then. And that was probably the only mystery he would never be able to solve.

***

Tag List: If your name is crossed out, I wasn't able to tag you. If you don't specify which fic you want to be tagged in, you will be added to my general taglist.

@summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @dorothea-hwldr @omgkatinka @ashesofblackroses @amberangel112 @icarusblinders @zealoushound @asuni921 @endofalldays01 @nerra75 @indigosaurus @nowyouseeme098 @cap-just-said-language @miss-rebel-without-applause @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maan24 @mochionly @introvertedmouse @sofiebstar @kebabgirl67 @elizabetharegina @littleone65 @thoughtfullyfurryangel @mimi-just-living @themanfromu @liecastillo @capncassas @evansabove1981 @luclittlepond @geralts-yenn @agniavateira @enchantedbytomandhenry @lumiousmoon @tumblnewby @crazybutconfidentaf @viking-raider @thorins-queen-of-erebor @aletheladyinred @fvckinghenrycavill

[greenandsorrow]

Not a request, but can you make a list of the fandoms and characters you write for? Not to be rude! <333

Disclaimer -> There are fandoms I've already written stuff for, or I will in the future, but they're not in the following list because I don't take requests for them (the Matrix, Prometheus, DC, Marvel, etc.) There's no particular reason, I just don't feel like it.

character x reader only, unless I say otherwise (Be as creative or as specific as you wish with the reader. Your request = your personal treat!)

FANDOMS & CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR -alphabetical order

DEAD POETS SOCIETY:

Neil Perry

Todd Anderson

Charlie Dalton

The poets x reader

Mr. Keating (platonic!)

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S:

William Afton (either from the game or the book trilogy, not movie Willy -still love him tho)

Springtrap

The Puppet

Comfortingly scary stuff with the animatronics of the first six games.

GAME OF THRONES:

Petyr Baelish

Varys (don't ask me why, probs platonic?)

Jorah Mormont

Sandor Clegane

Brienne of Tarth

maybe Arya Stark (for smut only S8)

maybe Eddard Stark

maybe Tormund Giantsbane

GILMORE GIRLS:

Luke Danes

Michel Gerard

The reader being a citizen of Stars Hollow/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

GRAVITY FALLS:

Stanley and Stanford are the only two characters that smut is permitted (even threesomes)

The reader being part of the town/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

HAZBIN HOTEL:

Alastor (human, giant demon, cursed cat, something from your imagination)

Lucifer Morningstar

Angel Dust

Vox

Sir Pentious (can be shipped with Cherri)

The Hazbins x reader

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON:

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Aegon Targaryen

Scenarios that include multiple characters

?Dragon bonding¿

HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE:

Anything that you desire

IT:

Pennywise

Not sure about any other ships but shoot your shot ig

The reader being a citizen of Derry/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

LEE JINUK:

Pyeon Sang-Wook (and I'm open to writing for Sweet Home in general)

Player 246

LOTR/ THE HOBBIT:

Bilbo Baggins

Thorin Oakenshield

Fili Durin

Kili Durin

Thranduil

Gandalf x reader (platonic!!)

Thorin & company x reader

The fellowship x reader

Sauron in any form

The Witch King of Angmar (🤭)

OMORI:

I'M NOT AGING ANYONE UP FOR SMUT/ I WON'T PUT ANYONE IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS (aging up for character development is acceptable ig).

Omori (can be shipped with Aubrey)

Sunny (can be shipped with Aubrey/Basil)

Stranger

Basil

The group x reader

The reader just experiencing or being part of Headspace, Black Space, White Space and the characters there.

PEDRO PASCAL:

Joel Miller

Din Djarin

RYAN GOSLING:

Ken

Officer K

Sierra Six/ Court Gentry

Colt Seavers

SHERLOCK BBC:

Sherlock Holmes (platonic mostly)

John Watson

maybe James Moriarty

maybe Molly Hooper

SQUID GAME 2:

The Front Man/ Player 001

Player 246

Thanos

The Salesman

Hit me up with anyone from S2 actually. Men and women.

Scenarios that include multiple characters.

STAR WARS:

the whole Skywalker bloodline

Han Solo

Ahsoka Tano

Captain Rex

Obi wan Kenobi

General Grievous

Darth Maul

Darth Malgus

Din Djarin

Captain Phasma

Some droid fluff

Don't limit yourself since there's a good chance I forgot someone

STRANGER THINGS:

Billy Hargrove

Eddie Munson

Jim Hopper (don't ask why)

Vecna/ Henry Creel

The reader being a citizen of Hawkins/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

THE DA VINCI CODE:

Silas

THE SECRET HISTORY:

Anything

Absolutely anyone

I mean it

(no incest, no orgies/ threesomes)

WIZARDING WORLD:

While I don't deny my love for HP since I grew up with it, I want you to know this is a safe place.

Any Harry Potter or Fantastic Beasts character

Scenarios that include multiple characters

masterlist of all work

requesting rules/ info

*my paypal link can be found on my masterlist & fics

[shotgunbunny]

Hello! how about Sherlock getting jealous of the man the reader is spending time with and his deduction skills go out the window so he doesn't realize they aren't romantically involved 👀

═๑♡𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧♡๑═

WC:1.3k+ GIF by strdstpixie

{srry I got way too carried away in this little plot and I hope you like it anon even though I got side tracked}

{Warnings!! The most fluff!! The love language of flowers!! Literally just heartwarming!!}

♡being engaged to Sherlock could be hard sometimes. He was the most sought after bachelor before he met you when suddenly, he was ready to give his life to you.

♡Sherlock fans would often send you rude mail and menacing glares. Yet Sherlock would always tell you to ignore them.

♡Yet how could you ignore them when you got them everywhere. With Sherlock always at work, you decided to confide in your closest friend: Max.

♡You had grown up with Max and he was your dearest friend. He never upset you and often supported your ideas, he was truly lovely. Yet you both never saw each other in a romantic light.

♡One morning, after you had woken up alone due to Sherlock going to work. You decided to go and visit Max and see how he was doing as he was currently trying to woo a woman.

♡When you got there you were immediately encased in a hug and Max dragging you down the streets of London to go shopping while he spoke about how he was going to find the perfect bouquet of flowers to woo his lady.

♡As you were both strolling down the market with your arms linked, you felt eyes watching you. No doubt the folks that detested you for stealing Sherlock from his work.

♡When you turned to look you were shocked to see, Sherlock and Ebola stood there. Enola was talking to him yet he had his eyes dead set on you. You could see his jaw tighten and his hands crumple into fists.

♡You felt your heart race, Sherlock had never been angry, let alone angry at you which is why you were so nervous to see him angry now.

♡Max pulled your arm and dragged your attention away from your fiance babbling excitedly about seeing the perfect bouquet.

♡As you stood next to Max as he was looking at the variety of flowers, you heard the familiar voice of Enola grow closer.

♡Before you could even turn to see the girl, a hard chest was pressed against your back and an arm wrapped around your waist making you gasp. You turned and there was Sherlock.

♡He wasn't glaring at you, rather at Max. He jaw still clenched. You squeezed his bicep and he focused his attention on you. You raised an eyebrow at him.

♡Max turned his attention to you both and Sherlock spoke, "Dove, come on we must return home. We must continue planning our wedding. Enola had a few ideas."

♡You looked at him shocked, "My darling, can it not wait? I am busy here trying to help my friend."

♡"My dear, I do not care if he is your friend, I am your fiance and I require your attention more than him."

♡You glared at him, "Sherlock how hypocritical of you. You never pay me any attention so why should I give you any? If you are going to let your foolish jealousy talk for you then I suggest you stay away from me."

♡Max stared and looped his arm through yours and you continued strolling down the street, all the while Sherlock felt his heart crack.

♡He turned to Enola, "Have I really not shown her how much I adore her? Does she feel that deprived of my presence?"

♡Enola stared at him, placing a hand on her hip before glaring at him, "You are silly dear brother. You often go to work rather than talk to your dear future wife. You haven't even professed your love for her you stupid man."

♡Sherlocks eyes widened, "Help me Enola, help me fix my wrong."

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡It had been a day since you had seen Sherlock and you felt your heart ache a fraction over not seeing him.

♡Max had been wonderful and allowed you to stay at his house for the night where finally revealed he was trying to woo Lady Ristunberg.

♡You were awoken by a knock at the door. You grabbed a night coat and sorted yourself out so you looked mildly decent and opened the door.

♡Your heart hammered at seeing Sherlock stood there with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

♡"Sherlock? What are you going here? It's so early." You stared at his beautiful puppy dog eyes and how he was starting to get eye bags. "Have you slept?"

♡He stared at you, "I have not my lady. You see I require you to be happy with me so that then I can sleep peacefully. And due to the fact you are not, I have not slept and have dedicated the night to searching for ways to prove my love for you."

♡You stared at him and then at the flowers in his hand. "Will you give me a minute to change so that then we may return home?"

♡A sigh left his lips, and he nodded relieved.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡When you arrived back with Sherlock hiding in your shadow, you were surprised to find the flat organised.

♡You watched as Sherlock walked past you and handed you 5 books. All the books that you had given him to read while he was trying to court you.

♡"What is this Sherlock?" He walked over to you and took the first book you ever gave him from your hands.

♡He opened the book and flicked to a page where a flower rested. A pink camellia. You looked at him, "A pink camellia. It symbolises longing. The first book you ever gave me when I was courting you. I marked the pages with how I longed for your love."

♡He took the second book, and there rested a blue salvia. "The second book, where you started to slowly give in to my advances. And then the first time I heard your laugh, your cute little giggle. I marked it that day with a blue salvia, it means thinking of you. I thought about the beauty of your voice for days on end."

♡The next book was taken and the next flower shown, a pink rose. "Happiness. A pink rose is happiness because everything you did, you do, makes me happy."

♡You felt tears gather in your eyes, as the fourth book opened and there was a red rose. He smiled shakily, "The day you agreed to court me I marked it with a red rose. It means I love you. Truly my heart belong only to you."

♡You felt a few tears slip at finally hearing those words. Sherlock leaned forward and wiped your tears before he took the last book from your hands and opened it.

♡Held between his fingers was a red flower, he handed it to you and you took it before staring at him. "A red salvia."

♡"What does it mean?" Your voice was so soft.

♡He chuckled, "It means forever mine. The day you agreed to marry me, you were forever mine. But the day you first spoke to me, I was forever yours. You held my heart before you even knew it. I know I am a hard man but my love,"

♡You watched as he got on he knees infront of you and stared up. You placed the flower on the side close to you, and put your hands on his face.

♡"I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I am thankful to be near you. I adore you, and though I am terrible at showing it, I hope you know that I truly mean it."

♡You got on your knees and kisses Sherlock embracing the overwhelming amount of love that was in the room.

♡When you both pulled away, you placed your forehead against his and closed your eyes. You felt him take your small hand in his and you smiled.

♡"I love you too Sherlock Holmes so very much, all I ask is that you come home and spend time with me more."

♡"My dearest dove, I promise you I will. I will make sure you wake up drowning in my love. And then when your Mrs. Holmes you will carry our love." He chuckled and you blushed.

♡"You were quite attractive jealous though I must admit."

♡A laugh echoed around the room and he pulled you up against him and he dragged you to the bedroom. "Well then I must admit you're quite attractive covered in my marks."

[ladylaviniya]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 2 || Masterlist || Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: After finding his debts you decide to take matters into your own hands...what a terrible decision...

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Historical Typical Sexism, Debts, Domestic Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Blackmail.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes:

★For those of you possibly turning around and saying “£290 is nothing for all of what Sherlock has bought”

...I’ll remind you this is set in 1890 and so since then inflation has risen greatly...

★So for the modern reader I must insist to explain that £290 in England is now worth £30,671...

★And for my American readers that would be $38,948

★And for my Australian readers that would be $58,490

★Basically...Sherlock Holmes is a material gorl 💅

Inspiring Song: "Ghiribizzi" by Paganini

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

7:35am Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You wobbled onto your feet as Mrs Hudson entered the apartment with a scowl... probably because of something Sherlock said to her in passing the stairs.

The old crow’s frown spirited away when she noticed you were awake and outside of your bedroom.

She smiled warmly in fact and bid you a good morning. You returned the expression as she came and collected the breakfast plates.

Your fingers trailed over the countless of papers on the table and the sleek wood of his violin.

Shuffling through each parchment and a sigh drawled from your lips.

“Mrs Hudson,” you hummed as she passed you, “I request you show me the expenses of the household purse.”

It was a common duty of a wife nowadays to keep track of all home expenses.

She paused and her eyes widened, her mouth flapped open and closed quickly again. Her teeth grimaced and her bony finger wagged, “I am afraid my dear, they are in Mr Holmes bedroom, and as I said yesterday, he can be an incredibly private person.”

His bedroom? Oh yes...he kept it locked. But by god you needed to get to the bottom of this theory you were building in your mind. You were married and a married couple shouldn’t withhold secrets.

“I am his wife, I am the second close thing to the holy trinity in his life now,” you snorted softly as you collected all the papers on the table and made a neat single pile, “I will see the documents and understand his predicament.”

“And which predicament may that be?” the housekeeper inquired as she laid down a fresh virgin cup to pour scolding tea from the hot teapot.

“Enola mentioned something about debts,” You clutched the front of your dressing gown to contain some decorum while you sat back down and gestured to the chair beside you for her to sit in as well, “his foul dismissal of my presence suggests not only disdain of our union but in addition a set of a secrecy and disfavour I will not permit in my marriage.”

You needed to know exactly how much debt he was in. You were willing to part some of your dowry to pay for it if you could. His aggression was surely caused by the stress of these debt...if you could lift them off his shoulders, mayhaps he would be kinder, gentle and respectful.

She passed you the cup and saucer while she took to pouring herself a cup. The elder woman smiled giddily.

You were pleased that there was no judgement of your modesty before her. It was a fine change compared to your strictly grandmother who would berate you if you dared leave your bedroom under dressed.

The elder cradled her cup and lowered it carefully, clearing her throat, “Mrs Holmes...”

You blinked...you believed you had asked her to not call you by your new name, out of friendliness.

“Mrs Hudson?” you queerly answered.

“Before your marriage,” her lip curled inward and her fingers lightly tapped her cup, she looked to the tea and quickly glanced up at you, “The detective entertained himself in some...appalling activities. I think it best not to open those locked pasts for your own sake.”

Appalling activities...in a world of proprietary that could mean anything...you did have your thoughts...you were only surprised that the notorious detective would risk tainting his reputation with some illicit practice.

You swallowed dryly before sipping lightly at the tea. You licked your lips and sighed shaking your head, “Speak plainly Mrs Hudson.”

“Oh please,” She prayed mortifyingly, “I daren’t repeat it.”

It wasn’t difficult to see the pink rising in the pale wrinkled face of Mrs Hudson.

You leant over the table and used small tongs to pick up a sugar cube and clenched your jaw. You wouldn’t play in another game of riddles, especially not with a elder woman with a privacy for embarrassing details. The sugar fell into the cup with a soft plop in the awkward silence, a ticking of the clock caught in your ear.

“Tell me or leave Mrs Hudson,” you pinched the papers on the desk , “I have documents to find and unless your words hold any meaning, do not bore me with unheard gossip.”

Her beady blue eyes under her spectacles fluttered, her lips parted at your stern tone. She inhaled deeply and looked around the room before leaning in closer to you.

She said in a hushed whisper, “My dear girl, your husband is a whore mongering, drug addicted gambler.”

Now that was a surprise to hear fall from her wrinkled lips. You pinched your forehead and rubbed thoughtfully. How would you handle this type of man?

You glanced at her with a small grin.

“Was- Mrs Hudson,” You corrected, tapping the table with your knuckle, “I will not allow such boyish whims into my marriage,” you wagged your finger at her and flashed her a devious smile, “He shall need to divorce me if he wishes to continue such behaviours, it might be harder for me to remarry but I trust not a single woman would last longer than me as his wife.”

A small laugh came out of the woman who gave you a dramatic military salute, she grinned and chortled, “Well, I admire your determination, but however will you enter his chambers? He has the only key.”

Your chest deflated, she was right. How would you? You chewed the inside of your cheek and looked over your shoulder to look at the closed bedroom door on the far side of the wall beside your own.

You slowly pushed up to your feet again and trapesed back to your bedroom, “Mrs Hudson, wherever did you put my hat box?”

The elderly woman put down her cup and swayed inside to follow you, she pointed to above the wardrobe. Standing on your toes you palmed the box down and laid it on your unmade bed.

Mrs Hudson was opening up your wardrobe and peeling through your hanging hooks of dresses and coats.

“My dear, surely you’re not intending to go outside in your frail condition?” she muttered as she trailed a fresh chemise over her arm.

Shaking your head you jerked you chin, “No Mrs Hudson, indoors I will remain.” Your hand clenched your lower belly with a hiss as a nasty cramp prevailed, “I don’t recall entirely but I believe a doctor was here last night, said I have begun my menses for this month.”

“I can see dearest,” Mrs Hudson hummed, pinching at your dressing gown...you had bled through it. A wet crimson patch stained the white cotton. You balked and flushed.

“Best get it off now,” Mrs Hudson winked, pulling it back and off your naked shoulders, “I’ll make you some packing.”

You shuddered and gasped at how forward your housekeeper was presenting. Respectfully speaking, you wondered if Mrs Hudson had been a ladies maid in her earlier years before her own marriage.

You tiptoed to the water basin on the vanity and squeezed the clean cloth inside of it. You cleaned the red and burgundy chunks and stream between your thighs. Your washed your hands back in the water and faced Mrs Hudson sheepishly. She smiled and pulled the chemise over your head.

“Let me roll some packing,” she said, pulling a bandage from the top drawer of the vanity and folded it into a flat palm of thickened fabric.

You shoved it up against your intimate flesh and squeezed your thighs together tightly.

Mrs Hudson then found a sanitary apron in the same drawer and helped tie it behind your back.

“Mrs Hudson you are a fine woman of elegance and saintly kindness,” you exhaled, “Thank you.”

“I remember when I was a freshly married girl,” She clucked happily, “My dear friend was a constant visitor and helped me with these things. Mr Hudson grew very jealous of our time together,” she sighed, “Now, do you require a corset my dear?”

You shook your head and plucked your fingers, “I shan’t accept any visitors, and in my sickly state it would be kinder to leave it be if I should make a mess of my inconvenience.”

If your stomach threw up from the stress of your internal curse, you didn’t want to wash through the delicate fabrics of your whale bone undergarments.

You found a loose blouse and black skirt to pull and button onto your body. You pulled up a pair of stockings.

You sat on the bed as Mrs Hudson buttoned your shoes up with a hook. As the kind older woman did this gradually with her small fingers and greying eyes, you pulled the lid of your hat box away.

You pulled out a long metal stick...

A sharp hat pin.

“There we are, all done and ready for the day!” the housekeeper announced, rising to her feet.

You rose up with her and smiled, “Please Mrs Hudson, might I burden you with making another pot of tea?”

She beamed and nodded.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

08:45am Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You were grunting on your knees before Sherlock’s locked door. Your hat pin jammed into the key hole. The tip of your tongue stuck out the corner of your lips as you shuffled the metal and tried to carefully listen to the locking of the inner gears.

Little did anyone know...this little talent you learnt on your own... Breaking into your grandfathers wine cellar was not a overexerting task when you were fifteen. It wasn’t a desire to rebel, rather a desire to educate yourself...you wanted to be seen as intelligent and knew your wines.

It wasn’t too long before you came to hate the bitter taste...and then found your grandfather’s rum drum.

When he found you, he didn’t not strike you and decided the headache you received in the morning was punishment enough for your sinful deed. And for a whole week he made you drink a cup of the stuff every night, to teach you why alcoholism was not befitting for a lady...

You smirked at the memory. Perhaps it was unorthodox. But it was kinder than a lashing or earful from your grandmother.

It was just one of many secrets between the both of you.

The loud click and sliding of the last inner lock made your eyes sparkle. As you twisted the handle the door peeled open with a awful squeak.

“My lord, what a mess!” you gasped.

The room was in a disarray. A smell of mould and death hit your nose. You gagged and felt your belly churn.

There was cigar burns in the rug, papers, news papers and books thrown about. There were plates that were piled up in the corner on a desk and there was a dirt dried mud trails...

The curtains were stained and the dust was unbelievable. When your finger ran along a small stand beside the door your finger came back looking pitch black with the soot.

You sat back and stood up. Piece by piece you picked up all the papers and went to his filing cabinet drawer, it was empty! Of course it was empty, all the contents had been tossed about, decorating the room messily.

You fingered the massive haul of papers and sighed, you would need to organise them all...

Taking them back out to the dining table you started to arrange piles of parchment stacks. Receipts, paid and unpaid, by date and purchases. Your eyes catered to the numbers, you fetched a notebook to tally the expenses and sighed, cupping your mouth every so often at his choices of spending.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts and game of pounds, shillings and pence, you hadn’t heard the return of Mrs Hudson with a fresh pot and tea set.

“Dear me,” she said clicking her tongue and shaking her head, “It looks like you’ve got your work cut out! Now what’s all this?” She asked picking up a receipt off a pile.

Rolling your shoulders back she smiled proudly at the organisation of affairs. You gestured to the individual sheet stacks.

“Ah sings Den, Cocaine Tooth Drops, Black Shag Tobacco, gambling...prostitutes,” you chewed your lip worriedly as you glance back at the small note book you write on with a blunt pencil, “He has wracked up a wicked sum...”

The housekeeper put the receipt back and sat beside you after pouring you another warm tea, this time she added the sugar cube for you and stirred.

“How much?” She whispered looking over the thick almost book like mountains of papers.

Since the new year began...Sherlock had designed quite the irresponsible money expenses and debts...

£5.65 for the Opium Den experience.

£3.25 for the Cocaine drops

£10.41 for the tobacco.

£120.78 for the overall gambling.

£150.33 for his Mayfair Row whores to Madam Adler.

Total: £290.42....

You felt your lips tighten, your belly squeezed. You paled and frailly held the cup to your lips, softly blowing and softly stating, “Perhaps that number I will keep to myself Mrs Hudson,” you pushed a pile close to her and tapped at the top, “Be not alarmed however, he seems to dedicate his rent responsibly to you.”

She chortled and shook her head, “Oh I don’t mind that, I trust him to,” her eyes narrowed at the

Mayfair receipts, “I just never liked the company he brought home.”

Your eyes widened and it was like air had been stolen and kicked from your lungs, “He brought...” you choked, shutting your eyes, “Those...those women back here?”

She grit her teeth and finished her tea, “Yes, they leave like newborn foals with wobbly legs.”

When Mrs Hudson caught your worrisome eyes she gasped and tapped your hand softly, “Forgive me, I needn’t provide details.”

You pursed your lips disapprovingly before conceiting, “As much as it is wounding to hear, it is unavoidable,” you sighed and poured yourself another tea, “As his wife it is best I know everything about my husband and if he is to keep secrets from me,” you shrugged, “However shall I be a decent partner?”

Mrs Hudson put her cup aside demurely and leant closer to you. Still in her hushed tones, ashamed of the secrets she was sharing...but her eyes were full of excitement, perhaps this gossip was something she needed off her conscious.

“I would hear them in the night, screaming...I thought he was killing them,” more colour was flushing back into her face. A rosy hue dusted her nose and cheeks, “I am thankful every time when I would see them leave with smiles on their faces.”

You sat back in your chair abruptly and looked at her curiously, “Screaming and smiles?” You whispered under your breath, “How peculiar.”

It wasn’t possible. Did he hurt those prostitutes like how he had done to you? How did they walk away with smiles? Was it because he paid them? Not even you could think how to muster a smile after experiencing such awful tortures.

“I thought perhaps, he did what he had done onto you my dear...but when I saw the blood and your lack of pleasantry, well, I can confidently say-”

You slapped your cup on the saucers hard enough for a loud clatter, you said tightly, “Mrs Hudson I’d very much prefer to forget yesterdays events, if you don’t mind...please do not refer back to them.”

The mention caused a spike of pain inside you, reminding you where he stuck his hot selfish poker.

The elder woman grew quiet for a moment. She looked off at the window in the distance and then down at her cup.

She nodded and tried to share a soft smile, “Apologies for any offence.”

A stab of guilt panged in your chest, you hadn’t mean to be so rude to her. Your nerves were in a terrible mood. In a moment you would be happy and then the next you would feel worrisome and hungry. Perhaps you might’ve grown to be afflicted by the disease of Hysteria?

Oh Hysteria, what a terrible condition...you dreaded the thought of need to go for a medical massage. One of your female cousins had been to one and her description made it sound both enlightening and frightful. In fact she said it felt like she had died and gone to heaven and returned.

All of which made you scared beyond belief.

“None received,” you pat her hand and brought her palm to your lips, “You are a kind Christian and for that I say god bless you Mrs Hudson.”

She smiled warmly and stole a soft kiss to your cheek, all was forgiven between your temper.

“Oh my dear, I must additionally confess,” she stunningly proclaimed, “Sherlock doesn’t attend church.”

Your brows rose, “What?” You snorted through a laugh, unable to comprehend her truth, “Don’t be ridiculous, what upstanding gentleman doesn’t attend church?”

You giggled and cheerfully wiped a tear away, your sanity returned when her face had remained stone solid. She did not find it funny and you realised finally it was because in fact not a joke...

You glanced over the papers...back to the number on your notebook...ah of course...no god fearing man could sin so easily...waste away fortune so carelessly and spend it on unnecessary frivolous activities.

“I think that might be the answer to your own question. The Doctor Watson wrote his newspaper articles and depicted him London’s hero. He can be truly a godless man. Frankly I believe he’s a sadist.”

You tilted your head at her and drank some of your tea.

You hummed and held a finger to your lip in thought, “Yet you said those women had smiles on their faces when they left?”

Mrs Hudson shook her head curtly and smirked, “Well I think I’d smile too with the amount he probably pays them.”

Laying your elbow on the table with your chin on your head you looked at the brothel papers, “You are right...they are over priced...Mayfair Row...they’re quality...but nonetheless still he pays them far too much.”

Your husband was an exuberant tipper when it wasn’t his money. Mayfair Row...you hadn’t been inside the Dove club where Sherlock spent most the wealth...but you knew the average price of a whore...it took you back to a time...many, many years ago...back when you believed you had a mother that loved you...back when seeing a naked man behave like an animal writhing on-top of her was your normal life. Where you mimicked the actions with your cloth doll that you carried everywhere. You tried to remember the name of that doll....Susie? Harriet? God only remembers now.

They weren’t pleasant memories...the stench of mud, the screaming of women, the yelling if men, the bite of hunger and the itch of lice in your hair and fleas covering your clothes.

You shuddered. Thank god you still did not live with her anymore. It was the only life you knew in those days but suffering is suffering and you amazed you how long you survived in such conditions.

The elderly woman looked into the pot and sighed at the low level of tea.

“I am surprised you know so much about them,” she casually noted, glancing back at you.

You realised how strange you must’ve sounded...you heart began to race. You grimaced, annoyed at yourself for being so relaxed you lost thought of your own words.

“Call it a terrible interest Mrs Hudson,” you licked your bottom lip and lied, “I was a reader of Josephine Butler’s work on her dismantlement of child sex work.”

She nodded slowly, clearly Mrs Hudson had no idea who Mrs Butler was...you felt a twinge of agitation for the uneducated.

You tapped your fingers nervously on your cup again and off handedly asked “Do you know if there are anymore receipts I might find Mrs Hudson?”

“No idea I’m afraid,” Mrs Hudson said as she noticed your cup was finally empty. She collected the tea set items and placed them on the tray. You turned in your seat and looked back at Sherlocks open door, there was still so much mess. You shook your head.

Before the housekeeper left you touched her arm.

“Please fetch me a broom and cloth and clean water.”

She followed your gaze at his room and warmly cupped your face, “Dear, perhaps you should lay in bed for a while, you shouldn’t be working so perilously in this physical state.”

You smiled and held her hand, rising out of the chair. You walked back to his room and called over your shoulder, “I would rather clean my husband’s hovel. No wonder he’s a beast considering he lives like one.”

You could hear Mrs Hudson cackling behind you as she went back down stairs only to return with your requested items after a while.

A clean room might clear his head, calm his woes.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

12:23pm Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

After hours of sweeping, dusting, mopping, washing and organising Sherlock’s room you tiredly flopped back on his mattress and yawn.

At this rate you considered a small nap was required. Except you knew yourself, you knew if you stopped your progress you’d be discouraged to finish.

There was one last thing to organise after folding and hanging all his clothes. At the foot of Sherlock’s bed was a large chest. It could be easily mistaken for an ottoman. Maybe they’re would be more debt documents or clothing in there.

You crawled down and climbed off his bed to crouch beside the chest. You clicked the latches open and lifted the lid slowly.

Inside were sinister objects...you gasped...too shocked to even close the chest. Rope, shackles, knives, long thin sticks, a riding crop, a whip, a bridle you knew deep down was too small for a horse and meant for a human...smaller boxes with printed words....rectal dilators and hysterical paroxysm vibrating aid. And the illustrations...

There was a book you were reading...you weren’t really thinking, you were just curious of the horrid that might follow within...

Men and women, all nude, illustrations and photos of them performing elaborate sexual deviancy. Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat. Between your legs the buzz of arousal enlightened to your belly.

There was a woman who was tied up in ropes in star like patterns being mounted by a man who held a riding crop in his hand. You paled thinking he was beating this poor woman...and as you read the words, it was discovered she enjoyed this...took pleasure in the agony??

It was very confusing for you to read such hypocrisy.

Who would enjoy being hurt like this?

And as you read more and more, the deeper into this strange arousal you sunk into.

There was a illustration on a woman holding her lover’s intimate member in her mouth. And another where the same lover was licking with a long snake like tongue at her clitoris.

Your thighs squeezed tight and you groaned as a cramp rippled through your body down to your knees.

Hearing your name on your housekeepers lips tore you away from the novel. You threw the book back inside the chest and shut it hard. You felt short of breath and grasped the wood of his canopy to stay stable before leaving his chambers.

You told yourself that it was wrong to be looking at such art and imagery of lust. A part of you however desired to peak back inside...curiosity was your master and chastity your mistress. So who would you listen to first?

Your eyes fluttered shut.

You met the elderly woman out in the sitting room where she was dusting at the unlit fireplace mantle... She was moving little trinkets and photos.

Within the centre of the mantle stand was a frame containing your own portrait. You had the image taken at a tintype shop over a year ago. You stood beside Mrs Hudson as you took in the reflection of yourself. You smiled at how brilliant it captured your likeness. You were still confused how it worked, something about sand and light...your grandfather stood aside that day and said he would be sending the image to his son to remind him of you, his daughter...you were embarrassed to say the least but dared not argue with his wisdom.

Well it seems your father didn’t get the photo...or perhaps he send it back. Now Sherlock had it in his ownership.

She smiled at you and ran a hand softly down your back and said, “I just wanted to ask if you liked mutton dear, I hope to cook some this evening for dinner.”

You smiled with relief, you told her, “I am ever grateful for any food you provide my husband and I, thankyou Mrs Holmes.”

The elderly woman eyes widened with joy. She turned on her heel, taking the bucket and cloth with her.

You looked over at the table covered in receipts she had kindly left untouched.

“Mrs Hudson,” You called after her as you stepped hastily over to a side board bureau and began to write up a cheque, “is there any chance you will be attending the bank today?”

Facing you she pat the door handle and exclaimed, “No, however I can stop by if you need me to, I am officially in need to buy some fresh mutton from the butcher.”

You smiled at her cheery attitude. You filled out the numbers and printed the expenses. You tore it away from the book and held it out to her.

“Fantastic...here. Take this.”

The housekeeper stepped closer and raced her eyes over the cheque. Her eyes blew up wide at the price you had written out.

“I don’t quite understand...” she shakily stated.

You sighed and clapped your hands as you went to finally sit down on the lounging chaise. It wasn’t hard to admit you needed the rest with how your head spun. You were dizzy and it was possibly from all the cleaning you had conducted and dust you had inhaled.

“Sherlock needs to be rid of these debts and I need to rid of his temper...my dowry Mrs Hudson I pray brings me peace.”

Yes, you were sure of it. Your very expensive dowry...you were going to pay the debt off and help your husband become less of an animal. Perhaps you might convince him to attend church.

“Mrs Holmes,” your housekeeper stammered, “I would advise you hold onto this...please...you cannot just-”

You cut her off dignifiedly, “Mrs Hudson, this cheque card will enter the bank whether by your hand or mine. And before you have insisted I rest. So please if you care enough for me, you shall hand it in on my behalf.”

Her face was flushed and her eyes shut tight. She shook her head disapprovingly while muttering

“Very well dear girl, I hope you know what you are doing.”

Out Mrs Hudson went, and down you went. Your face pressed into a cushion. With your eyes fluttering shut, you feel back into the darkness and peacefully slept, listening to the wafting sounds of Baker Street flow from Sherlock’s bedroom window.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:00pm Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

Sherlock still had not returned home from his morning flee. As Mrs Hudson laid out a plate of roast and potatoes with gravy she assured you that Sherlock had a habit of staying out for hours. Whether for a case or his own pleasures and addiction.

On the table in front of you was the paper bank statement, it accounted that the cheque had been entered and applied to the debts.

Now the Sherlock Holmes was a debt free man...

After you finished your dinner, Mrs Hudson kindly helped remove your shoes and change your bedding. You were redressed in a night gown and over your shoulders a warm dressing gown.

You now only wore a sanitary apron to protect yourself from your blood.

All his paid debt receipts were in a folder, you stared at that manilla folder smugly. Your left it on the table as you went to inspect the book shelves on the far wall near the entrance of the home.

You looked at the many novels on the shelves, now some of them being the ones brought over from your grandparents estate. On quick flicking through pages you found most of them being related to science, language and anatomy. Glancing back at Sherlocks open door, you thought about the book in the chest. That was more than just an anatomy book...

You squeezed your side, you were feeling a spike in temperature and a shortness in breath reimagining those images...those words.

It wasn’t the smut novella Fanny Hill, but it stoked fires inside you much like it. You knew it was something you probably shouldn’t have come across, because you shouldn’t have been inside his room, touching his belongings.

You had to. It smelt like something had died.

You prayed this would sort him out. You could only hope that the years ahead would not be so testing.

You had a list of mental rules. You may be his wife and beneath his status, however you would not just stand back and watch him act a fool and fall victim to further ridicule in society. You would not sink in the same boat again. You were excluded from many balls as a teen when some wicked foul mouth girl had revealed the secrecy of your parentage.

Your step mother was only eleven years older than you, so really...there was no possibility of pretending to be her child. Everyone in high society of they knew you, knew what you were. And because they knew you were treated like a unspeakable burden and unwanted pet at parties.

It wasn’t a mystery to you why you started playing the role of a wallflower at only fifteen.

You refused to allow Sherlock to bring you to such shame in society.

The heavy foot steps outside the close door alerted you to an approach made by someone other than Mrs Hudson.

With the loud snap of the handle and click of the lock, in entered a breathless giant. Sherlock.

He tore off his hat and coat and only after hanging the items on the rack by the door did he acknowledge you with a small nod, “Mrs Holmes,” he bid. Under his arm you noticed was a paper wrapped package.

You heard him march through the house towards the middle room and heard him swear under his breath, follows by a repetitive “no no no.”

You heard him frantically skid around the carpets and floor boards of his own room. He was tearing open and slamming drawers and wardrobe doors.

“What the hell have you done! What have you-?”

Storming out of his room, you gasped at how his face reddened and he continued shouting, but thankfully not at you. He raced to the front door and tore it open screaming down the stairwell,

“Where are you woman!? Mrs Hudson! You shrivelled cow!”

You slapped the book in your hands shut, regarding him disdainfully, “Our housekeeper is not to be rewarded by your insults.”

The turn around he made was slow as realisation came to his heated face. The snarl was replaced by a begrudged sneer as he scoffed, pointing his finger sharply back in the direction of the bedrooms, “...You did this destruction?”

“Destruction?” You whispered. What destruction had you done?

As he approached, you unconsciously took a step back and nervously licked your bottom lip. You felt air being pulled from you as he towered above and stabbed you beneath a invasive gaze.

His darkened eyes looked across the light material of your nightwear. His fingers tugged the book out of hands and pushed it back into the shelving where it belonged.

You decided you needed to stand firmer against him, You craned your head back and stared up at him.

“H-hardly...I have organised. Cleaned.” You took another step back and felt the wood of the display cabinet behind you dig into your waist.

“By subject,” you felt his body press up against you, what the hell was he doing? Trying to intimidate you? You were hardly dressed compared to his full clad attire. It scared you. He looked formidable, like he was going to tear you limb from limb, his nostrils flared. Your insides jumped and that buzzing feeling ran through your lower half. God...why did this of all things arouse you?

Your throat felt shaky, “then- then ah numerical dated followed by alphabetically.”

You glance him over and blinked at the red spot on his chest, was it ink? No, ink isn’t so dark....under Sherlock’s jaw was a scratch, a slight discolouration to his skin and under his hair curl on his forehead as another mark.

He leant down and pressed his mouth to your ear, “Do not ever enter my chambers or touch my belongings without my permission again.” It was a mix between a whisper, an disciplining snarl, and a lusty moan.

It left your knees feeling bloodless. Your own eyes shut closed at the hot breath that breathed into your lobe and hair.

As he pulled back, he stood away and for the first few moments you needed to remember how to control your breathing.

He looked over the dining room table and slid the thick folder closer to himself.

“And what is this?” he asked you.

“Your debts,” You swallowed and wiped your palm across your forehead, a trail of sweat drenched your hand, “Paid for.”

He smirked and shook his head, “Mycroft.”

“No,” you bluntly said, smoothing your hands down your dress to rid of the wrinkles that rose up. Seeing how your nipples had hardened beneath your nightgown you pulled the dressing gown tighter around you and crossed your arms protectively over your chest.

You looked at his body hunched over the table and blinked at the white marks over the edges of his dark navy suit jacket. It looked like flour...except flour had a tendency to clump. His nails were also clean of any baking incredibly. But his finger pads on the wooden table left little faint prints...

“You?” he chuckled condescendingly.

You nodded, “Yes.”

His laughter quickly fell away, his head snapped up fully to look at you, his brows knitted together,

“Why?”

His lips settled into a frown.

He put his hands on his hips, a power play...he was trying to show confidence, dominance...perhaps in response to your arms folded over your chest.

It would’ve been good to just tell him the truth, but to explain it to him would be impossible. You chose to simplify the answer...

“Easement on your consciousness?” You offered dryly. It wasn’t a total like, the less stress, the more relaxing and kindness....right?

His mouth twisted into a snarl, “Why you insufferable little-”

“Where did you go today?,” you pondered, cutting him off from finishing his insult, “A school?”

He jerked back slightly, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, he took a deep breath and cupped his hands behind his back, “Excuse me?”

Good, he was calmer now.

This time you took to action...you stepped forward and sighed solemnly pinching one of his vest buttons.

“Chalk, on your cuffs. You smell like sweat in a teenage boy rather than a man. You’ve also had a scuffle with someone much shorter than you from the marks on your neck. Your shirt has a speck of what I believe is blood and the button is loosen,” you pinched and ripped it from the shirt and it’s faint loose thread.

“Fret not...” you smirked and pat his chest, “I will mend it should you ask.”

His hands came around and squeezed your forearms, his head moved back a little. He was perplexed...a light upturn in his lips revealed his sudden amusement.

He lifted a hand up and gently touched your face. He was breathing in a controlled state. You felt the intimacy of his closeness without fear of his wrath.

“No...” he drawled, “I was at Scotland yard. A poor deduction...” his thumb ran across your chin, “dear wife.”

You felt your heart pick up as his soft hand touched your face, you tried looking away from his staring eyes. Sherlock’s edged closer to your lips.

“Poor deduction but I am not stupid,” you consoled.

His lips broke into a wider smile revealing his teeth, he chuckled, “...I beg to differ.”

He moved abruptly back and fled to escape to his rooms. You knew his intention perfectly and chased after him, emphasising, “You had almost three hundred pounds in debt Sherlock. I at least know how to wisely spend my money.”

He spun on his heel and snapped at you, pointing harshly at your chest, “oh ho! Playing this game then are we? With your dowry gone, you have nothing left. I’d hardly call paying off my debts which were none of your concern, wise spending.”

You grabbed his finger and announced softer, serious and less aggressive, “Indeed, which is why I implore you to cease all further transactions in regards to your addictions.”

“Do not patronise me wife,” He scoffed and rolled his eyes tried tearing his hand away but your grip on his index finger tightened and the both of your grunted.

You grit your teeth at him, “Do not patronise me husband.”

He sighed and wiggled his finger from out of your hand.

He dusted his hands on his waist coat and huffed. He peered at you with a mischievous gaze.

“My debts...they included my friends...yes? From Mayfair?”

Oh that was cruel indeed. Mentioning those women when you were married to him. You wouldn’t dare let him threaten you over them.

You fought the urge to hit him and stomp your foot. You turned away from him and quickly composed yourself. Hastily you plucked some matches from the small box ontop of the fireplace mantel. You struck a small flame and tossed it into the fire place where you discarded some old newspapers as kindling.

“Yes,” you admitted tightly, “I know about your scandalous behaviours and forbid you from consorting in that demonstration again.”

He pushed passed you and unbuttoned his jacket and vest fully. He draped them over the back of one of the lounges, he pulled up his trousers slightly as he sat down.

He chuckled, “You forbid me?”

You glared at him and shot back up off the floor. You squeezed your eyes tightly as you firmly dictated, “I am the only woman to ever receive you carnally from now on.”

He smirked and spread his legs wide, folding his arms on his chest. He jerked his chin up at you and clicked his tongue, “I don’t believe you know what that means. Believe me little lamb, my fidelity is that last thing you’ll desire...or did you not learn from yesterday?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“I stand by what I mean Sherlock. You will not commit adultery while married to me,” you snapped. You wanted control, this would not be taken from you if you could help it.

“Or what?” He laughed, he then condescendingly moaned, “You’ll tell my big brother?”

As he went back to his smug chuckling you clenched your fists and stood over him. You weren’t thinking straight. Only a red shade cast in your eyes. You grabbed his collar and tugged him hard, spitting down at him with full anger as you threatened, “...Or I will kill you.”

He stopped laughing but didn’t stop his smug smiling. His hands came up and grabbed yours, prying them from his shirt.

“Barely been forty eight hours of wedded bliss and you desire to murder me. Ha! I now owe John five pounds,” he looked down at your chest which you realised was hanging in a uncompromising position. He could see right down your chest practically to your third rib with your lack of supporting chemise. Sherlock tongued the inside of his cheek and hummed, “My word.”

You gasped with horror and attempted to rip away from his hold, you grunted gruffly, “You are a pig Sherlock Holmes!”

He pulled you forcefully downwards and made your knees buckle. Your chest fell into his and you both hissed at the impact of crushing into each other.

Lewdly his hot wet tongue licked its way from your neck up to your earlobe while his hands pushed your thighs up to straddle over him, his fingers sharply stabbed into your backside under the night gown.

“You have absolutely no clue to what I am little Lamb.”

You tried pushing off him immediately, and felt his arm wrap around your waist and trap you against him.

Your legs so wildly spread and pressed against his trousers made you feel like you were riding on a horse.

Despite the plethora of farm animals you could compare in his and your name, you had both your wrists this caught in his one hand.

“Go on,” he chuckled as you struggled against him, “Tell me how you would do it...,” he taunted,

“How would you kill the great Sherlock Holmes, London’s finest Detective?”

You shrieked as you felt crushed under his baring arm, “I can think of many ways!”

“Well go on,” he smugly waited with raised brows, “Tell me.”

Your eyes rolled and you whined when he dug his nails into your wrists.

“I’ll push you down the stairs!”

He barked with laughter and shook his head, “You cannot be sure the fall would kill me, perhaps I might be paralysed, with many broken bones, but no no, I also don’t think you have the strength to push me around anywhere, look at you right now.”

“Fine!” you yelled, “Ill stab you with a knife!”

“Ah a violent approach, but what of the blood?” He grabbed your hip and moved you to grind your centre down on a lump in his trousers, “Why, even those idiots in Scotland Yard would figure out it was you; blood staining the clothes, carpet and blood beneath your nails, and where would you ever be able to hide the weapon?”

“Sherlock! Let me go or I’ll poison your tea!” you whined terribly.

He bit his lip and shook his head at you, “Oh dear Mrs Holmes, it’s possibly the most common death among an unhappy married couple. Wives are known to favour poison greatly.”

You heaved as you tried to catch your breath. You fell forward a little. Your sweaty forehead touched his.

“Please,” you whined, “let me go. All I want is you to be a civilised man and honour our marriage bed.”

He looked down at your parted lips. He looked back at your chest and shut his eyes.

“You want me to give up my whores Mrs Holmes?”

You gulped and nodded, “Of course.”

When he opened those blue orbs with the brown flecks, he whispered, “I promise to forsake them...if...”

“If?” you stammered and narrowed your eyes.

“Hush!” He reprimanded, “I promise to forsake my whores on Mayfair Row...If I can have my whore of Baker Street.”

Before you and time to reply and question what he even meant, he stood up and tossed you onto the floor. Sherlock crawled over you and pinned your flailing hands above your hand.

“You want to please me, please your husband, Mrs Holmes?” he gasped as his other hand went groping and squeezing around your soft body.

You weakly nodded, your head rested on the floor trying to get back the breath he knocked from you when he pushed you down.

You hissed softly, “Please, you’re hurting me.”

His hands loosened but held you trapped to the floor.

His lips danced over your cheek, “Then you will need to perform like a whore for me.”

A sobbing cry ripped front our chest, unsure of his real intention you quickly jumped to the conclusion of his implications.

You choked and shook your head, “No! I am not going to become a prostitute!”

He cackled at your fearful cry.

“No, this body belongs to me,” he said as he pinched the strings of your night gown and pushed the material away to show off your bare breasts.

His lips wrapped around your right nipples and sucked hard, tickling you with his tongue tip. Tears started to well in your face. You didn’t understand what he was implying to do to you. It tickled and felt so warm.

You were scared. You knew some men of the world were evil. Evil husband’s that pimped out the women they married. You couldn’t imagine being so intimate with another person. You couldn’t imagine succumbing to the agony you received the night before by Sherlock’s hand.

Kicking your feet across the rug and tried pushing your body from under him. He grunted as your nipple left his lips. He pressed the hand hard on your hip and affirmed, “Keep still, little lamb.”

“Sherlock,” you started to beg on a whimper, “Please, stop! You are frightening me, you’re h-hurting me!”

He looked down at you, his hair falling slightly on your head. His smile wavered as he took note of your tears and wobbling lips.

His gaze softened along with his voice, “...be completely honest with me.”

You nodded desperately, “I will, I will!”

“Did you look in the trunk at the foot of my bed?”

The chest full of explicit items and torture devices.

Your eyes squeezed tight and you exhaled, “I did.”

He smirked and let you go completely, standing up and held his hand to assist you too. When you were finally upright, he pinched your exposed nipple. You shrieked.

“I am a man Y/N, I have needs. I expect you to fulfil them earnestly if you desire I abandon my charity to Mayfair.”

You tried pushing his hand back and covering your breasts with the dressing gown. He smirked and shook his head at you, “No, no, let me see them.”

The silence was vile. The crackling of the fire place was the only ambience that showed attendance.

You couldn’t do it. It was wrong to be so exposed beyond the bedroom.

He waited and when you showed no sign of showing him, he sighed and nodded, “Very well, good night Mrs Holmes, I will call upon my friend Irene.”

He walked around you and journeyed to his open bedroom door.

As if all colour drained from your face you feverishly held out a hand and quickly called, “Wait, please! Look!”

You all but chased him into his own bedroom. He snapped his head in your direction. You stood in the centre space between his bed and the door.

He raised a brow and watched almost unimpressed as your trembling fingers shed your dressing gown and pulled the neckline of your night gown open...there he could finally observe your luscious breasts.

“Why Mrs Holmes,” he mused, sitting on his bed and peeling his cravat off his neck, “Your teats are exposed, careful,” he sarcastically warned, “One might mistake you for a slut.” You felt breathless and curled your lips inside.

You couldn’t believe it, you were letting him hurt you in a new way. You were letting him bully you. It wasn’t right and you desperately hated it, but what else was there except to let him defile and destroy your holy vows?

“Is that a sanitary apron on your waist?” he question, pointing at the lump under your gown.

You nodded, “I am still bleeding husband...”

“Do you know what that means?” Sherlock said unbuttoning his shirt.

Your licked your lips, folding your arms behind your back you tried hard to not cover yourself,

“My body is extinguishing my mental illnesses.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes, “Your medical knowledge is dated, but that is not what I implied...I meant that you should come to your knees and perform fellatio.”

Your eyes widened...fellatio was such a naughty word to hear let alone say. It was the type of practise in the book in his chest. Oral sex. Seeing the woman hold her male companions member appeared lewd and distasteful.

You hadn’t thought of ever doing it yourself, it served no purpose in procreation with god.

Flustered and shy, you cupped your hands over your face to think.

Sherlock’s voice was softer this time. He wasn’t mocking you as he explained, “I will not force you to do this Y/N, you do not have to if you do not want to.”

You shook your head and scowled at him from your hands, “But I do! I don’t want you to ever lay with a woman other than me! I am-“ you choked on some on coming tears, “I am your wife Sherlock, please...promise me if I do this you won’t lay with another woman.”

He unbuckled his trousers and sighed, “Then get on your knees,” he pulled out his semi hard rod, “and kiss your husbands cock.”

You looked over your shoulder at his door and then back at him.

Would you do this? Humiliate yourself in promise of keeping his vows loyally to you?

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

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[cardierreh15]

When love finds a way

I do not give any permission to copy or repost my work!

Warnings 18+: Death , Blood .

Pairings: Henry Cavill (Drake/Dracula) x Misty/Mia (Black!plus size female)

Description: The past comes back to haunt Drake in the most strangest way.

Song(s): Time Of The Season by The Zombies

Word Count: 2.9K

One

Shadows casted and danced as one with the candlelight upon the walls. Sweet angelic laughter had filled the air as he nuzzled his pointy nose into her soft warm skin; pampering sweet kisses on her flesh.

A toothy grin had curled on his lips, with a glint of sparkle in his blood pigmented eyes. ‘I really must go now. I told you I’d stay for a glass of wine and one had turned into 4.’

‘Ah,’ He smacked at his teeth and leaned over to grab the neck of the wine bottle, ‘Just one more my love.’ Then he’d reached over and poured a few more ounces into her once again empty glass. ‘I’d wished you just move in with me already.’

The woman wanted to object, but instead she just laughed and looked over at him, ‘If I didn’t know better, Id be thinking you’re trying to get me drunk! And, if we moved in together, I don’t think I’d be able to keep my promise to myself.’

‘And what promise was that my love?’

‘To at least wait a month into our marriage before you put me to bed.’

‘Hmph. You do make it hard to wait.’

The couple chuckled before he looked up at her, ‘And Perhaps I am… or maybe I just enjoy your company that much.’ He placed the bottle back down on the glass table and sat back, ‘We are to spend the rest of eternity together after all.’ He smiled softly.

The woman scooped up her wine glass by the neck and look at the beautiful wedding ring that donned her hand. A hesitant smile curled on her lips before she took a sip of her wine once more.

Drake’s eyebrows pulled into one as he noticed her happy demeanor had faltered some. He sat up and scoot closer to her, ‘Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts my love?’ He took her hand carefully and placed a gentle kiss upon her diamond.

‘N-no. It’s just that … eternity is a long time. I want to experience life first before … immortality. I want to birth a son, or a daughter—‘

He sighed softly, closing his eyes before, ‘Mia—‘

‘Dracula…’ she said as she snapped her head towards him. ‘You are my husband… is it not your job to give me what my heart truly desires?’

‘Yes but—‘

‘But?’ Her sweet honey brown eyes stared into his.

He broke the eye contact before looking down at her mahogany hands. ‘What if—‘ he swallowed his spit and looked back up at her, ‘What if I can’t? What if all these years have finally caught up with me and I can’t provide you with what you want? What then, Mia?’

Mia placed her small warm palms on his cheeks and pulled him into a sweet kiss. She could taste small remnants of blood upon his lips but it didn’t bother her much. She’d gotten use to the taste in the past year and a half.

When she’d broken the kiss, she whispered against his lips, ‘I know we can. Plus, It is always fun… practicing.’ She giggled.

Drake chuckled as well, pressing his forehead against hers, ‘It is. Maybe we can start practicing tonight?’ He then rushed in another kiss, before pampering her face and neck with sweet pecks.

A tickled laugh bounced off the walls before they were smothered with his own mouth once again.

The two were barely out of their clothes when they heard someone call his name, “DRACULA! SURRENDER YOURSELF VILE CREATURE OF HELL!”

He looked over his shoulder as he hovered over his lover.

‘Who is that?!’ Mia said in worry.

Drake quickly and carefully pulled himself off of her and walked over to the window. Once he’d pulled the winter curtain to the side, there stood the whole nearby village with pitchforks and lit up torches in their hands.

‘Mia, stay here.’

‘What?! No, Drake— they’ll kill you!’

‘Mia!’ With his immortal speed, he grabbed her face, ‘Please… stay… here. They mustn’t know you’re here—‘

‘DRACULAAA! COME OUT, THE CHURCH ONLY WISHES TO SPEAK WITH YOU!’

‘Hide. Do not come out until I come to you myself do you understand?!’

Mia nodded quickly before she hurried off and searched for hiding places.

He walked towards the large door of his home, unlocked it and pulled it open. He was instantly greeted with the scent of burning oil. He could hear the racing of everyone’s heart. They feared him. All of them except the priest, who held that cursed book in his arm.

Shutting the door softly behind him, he then walked forward, ‘My I help you… priest?’

‘Hmm… indeed you can.’

Drake narrowed his eyes as he took in the individual. He donned dirty blonde hair, green eyes and had a lean, tall frame. He wore a black cloak with red trimmings around the wrists and around his neck he work a silver necklace with a large cross pendant.

‘I Am Priest Darius Obadiah. I preach at the local town’s church. And I specifically specialize in exorcisms and vampire hunting. Basically, I am a servant of God, here to rid the world of evil. Such as yourself. ‘

‘I do not know what you mean Priest. Perhaps you’ve stumbled across the wrong man.’

Priest Darius narrowed his eyes for a second and sighed before continuing, ‘I have received word on your whereabouts from the people of the church. These…’ the priest reached his arm out, gesturing towards the folk behind him, ‘People. But that isn’t the most interesting part…’

Drake’s brows pulled into one, his red eyes searching the crowd for anyone that he would have recognized. He paid no mind to the priest until he mentioned, ‘The townsfolk say you have a woman. I hear she’s the most beautiful thing this world has ever seen. Skin chocolatey and silky. Something you’d kill to dig your fangs into?’

His eyes darted back towards the priest and he clenched his jaw together, ‘I haven’t heard of such a woman… I am a mere farmer… I am alone.’

The Priest raised a brow before continuing, ‘I want to believe you son… but the darkness I feel exuding off of you is unmatched. Joseph, Phillip! Bring her to me please!’

Drake snapped his head over his shoulder as two large men carried her out by her arms. ‘DRAKE! Get off! Get off of me!’ And they tossed her to the ground before the priest.

‘MIA! DON’T YOU DARE HARM HER!’ His crimson eyes glowed brighter than the moon. His large fangs protruded from his gums.

‘Ah! There she is! Just as they have described to be too! And all we needed from you— was a little motivation.’ The Priest chuckled as he walked over to the young beautiful woman and grabbed her by her thick curls. ‘Up, up, up— there you go sweet heart.’

‘AUGH!’ Mia whimpered out.

‘Mia! I won’t let them hurt you my love!’

The priest gave some of the villagers a nod for them to start burning down his stock, and his home.

Drake was aware of what was occurring behind him but he kept his eyes fixated on the priest.

‘Look… I know you planned on living a quiet life. Settling down but you are an abomination. A demon sent from hell to plague this world your vileness. You have and only will put everyone you know in danger… so you can give yourself up now or I will simply break you.’

‘DRAKE! DON’T DO IT!’

Drake kept his eyes on the priest before he looked at his distressed wife. ‘Mia…’

The priest smacked his teeth, rolling his eyes, ‘Fine. Let’s see how you bend under pressure.’ And in record time, the priest pulled out a dagger and stabbed it through her back.

A gasp came from Mia’s lips as he snatched the blade right out of her.

‘MIAAAA!’ He rushed over to his dying lover, falling to his knees and pulled her up into his lap. ‘Mia! Baby, baby— it’s ok! It’s not that bad—It’s.‘ his breathing was shaky. He pulled her up so he could see the wound in her back and placed one hand there, and the other rested on her exit wound in her abdomen. ‘Come on baby! Stay with me!’

‘Such a shame… she was beautiful. What a waste.’ And the priest turned around and walked through the villagers.

‘Dr—… it’s-it’s okay.’ She muttered out, her eyes wet with her own tears. Mia placed her bloodied hands on his face, ‘it’s OK… let it… g-go.’

‘It’s OK baby. I’ve got you. Just… stay with me OK. Look at me!’

Mia gave him a pained smile as a thick tear fell down the side of her face. Her face finally relaxed. And her rhythmic heart had came to a stop.

‘No, no, no. Mia— Mia please! Stay with me please. MIA!’

He sobbed as he held her. A pain he’d never experienced before ripped through him and he just let out a painful wail. He pulled her up into his arms and just held her corpse close. Rocking as if he were putting a baby to sleep.

‘What about him, father?’ One of the villagers asked.

‘He is broken. Death is what he wants. His punishment for his presence shall to live without the one he loves for the rest of his days.’

‘And what if he comes for us?!’ Another villager asked in worry.

‘He will… and we shall be ready.’

In the back, his home was already engulfed in flames. His stock ran around rampant, burning and dying. But cared nothing about it. They’d taken away the one thing he loved in this world.

He sought revenge. And God and his disciples were to feel his everlasting wrath. For those who steered in his way— would meet their dreadful and untimely demise too.

***

Modern Day

The weather was treacherous today. It was almost enough to make Drake stay indoors. But he needed to finished his painting. He was almost done with it, so he bit the silver bullet and got himself together.

He wore a simple black slacks and a button down with a black wife beater beneath it. He then threw on a black blazer to complete the look. And on his way out the door, he grabbed his black umbrella and his sunglasses.

Drake inhaled deeply; taking in all of the scents around him. He could smell the moisture in the air. It was to rain soon, so he had to hurry back. The man was like a cat thrown in a tub! He hated getting wet against his will.

He then carefully pulled his AirPods out of his pocket and plugged them into his ears. Pulling out his iPod, he restarted his playlist and began on his journey.

Drake lived in the city. This way he never felt the need to invest in a car. As far as he knew, he wasn’t being hunted thus, so walking about was a bit more relieving. Plus, everything was nearby! Supermarket, Drugstore, Restaurants, Hospital (where he would stock up his special packets at). A perfect place go blend in.

‘Hi, Mister Drake!’ A little boy with bright ginger hair on a bike chirped out, stopping right in front of him.

He pressed his lips and stopped in his tracks, ‘Oliver, careful with that thing… you can hurt someone… or worse!’

‘What? This little ole thing? You are too big to be hurt by the likes of me.’ The young man said proudly.

‘That’s kind of you young man. Now if you’d excuse—‘

‘My mom keeps asking about you Mister Drake! When you gone call her?’

Drake raised a brow, his neck stiffening at the thought of his mother. She was a beautiful woman, pretty blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, coke bottle shape. But he would only use her for one thing if not, the other. So he looked behind him and ahead of him before leveling down to Oliver’s height.

‘Look,’ he pulled his shades down to the top of his nose, revealing his bright crimson eyes. ‘Tell your mother to stop sending her son to speak regarding her. It’s inappropriate and unladylike. And if she’d like, I’m available everyday around 7:30. K?’

The young man’s lips were parted open, stuck in a trance almost until he nodded.

‘Good lad,’ he pushed his shades back over his orbs and stood up straight, ‘Now, run along now. Behave now, young Oliver. I will be watching you!’

***

As soon as he walked into the safety of the arts and crafts store, he brought down his umbrella and pushed his shades back over his head. Then, he picked up a hand basket.

Blinking a few times he allowed his sensitive orbs to take absorb the artificial light. He then inhaled deeply, this way he was able to find out everything about every person in the establishment. Most of the pheromones were the same usual scents, and some were different but not special enough for him to be pulled in. All except one.

‘Hmmm.’ He hummed softly before his attention was grasp by one of the workers.

‘Mr. Drake! How’s it going?’

He snapped his head towards the older woman before giving her a gentle smile, ‘Mrs. King. Hi, how are you? How was your holiday?’

‘It was delightful! Kids had a blast up there in the snow! But I didn’t get to see you before I left. No lie, I was a bit concerned. Are you doing alright?’

November 29th was the day that Mia had passed. And every year since her death he would prepare a memorial in her honor. That was also the last day Mrs. King worked before her vacation.

He nodded, pressing his lips together, ‘Just— had business to take care of. I’m fine, truly.’

‘Well, you know I am a phone call away. Oh! We restocked in your favorite Oil & Acrylics yesterday! Gone head have a blast!’ She grinned happily.

‘Oh goodie! I best be on my way!’ He grinned as he began to make his way towards the back of the store where there were all kinds of varieties of canvases, paints, and brushes. This was his safe haven. His personal Heaven.

Suddenly, that unusual yet, familiar scent danced around his nose once again. But it was a delightful scent. It made love to his senses and made whatever soul he had left in him, feel right at home.

So he just followed it, gaining closer and closer to the smell. To his surprise was a curly haired, cinnamon skinned woman admiring a large squeeze bottle of paint. She was curvaceous, and small in height. She had the same silhouette as his long lost love.

Or perhaps he was seeing things.

Drake quietly walked over and just stood there eyeing the different kinds of paint. A smooth, seductive song began to play in his ears. Causing his eyes to close slightly as he savored the sound.

Until he found himself singing out softly.

‘What’s your name, whose your daddy—‘

‘Whose your daddy,’ the girl adlibed, ‘He rich? Is he rich like mee?’

Drake blinked once and looked over at the woman who was still studying the paint and now humming the rest of the song.

‘You like The Zombies?’ He said with a smirk, his eyebrow raised and curiosity.

‘Not really,’ she said before dropping the blue paint in her hand basket and looked up at him. Her hair bounced and moved effortlessly. So lively and full! ‘Just that song in particularly.’ She giggled.

When their eyes met, Drake felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by a mule. She had her same beautiful, charming smile. Those same honeycomb eyes, and those lips… those full lips he use to just indulge on for no particular reason at all. Just because that’s the closest he got to tasting her. Hell, even her heart beat sounded the same.

He was still as if he was caught in Medusa’s glare.

‘Uh..’

Drake blinked out of his own head, ‘I’m… sorry. You just reminded me of someone.’ He turned his gaze away and started packing the colors he needed.

The girl smiled softly, her small dimples deepening in her cheeks, ‘I hope they were good memories.’ She gave him a gentle giggle.

He bit into his bottom lip and pressed his lips together. He was afraid to say anything else.

‘I’m… Misty… by the way.’

Drake looked down at his basket before looking back over at her with a gentle smile, ‘Drake.’

‘Drake?’

‘Mmmm.’ He hummed in agreement.

‘Like the rapper?’

‘Who?’ He raised a brow before looking over at the gorgeous woman.

‘You know? “You use to call me on your cell phone— late night when you neeed myyy love.” You know that guy?’ She said elbowing him gently.

Drake stared at her, confusion written on his face.

‘Oh dear… that was a very popular song.’ Misty giggled as she picked up another color.

‘Not popular enough, I suppose.’

The girl laughed and shook her head, ‘I guess not. So why do they call you Drake?’

‘It’s short for something…’ he paused, feeling like he was opening way too many doors.

‘OK… what is it then?’

‘I’d rather not tell. I don’t like my name.’

‘Alright, well— it’s been a pleasure “Call me on my cellphone,” man.’ she began to back up and wave her dainty fingers towards him. ‘I must get going. See ya around.’

‘See ya.’ He murmured as she disappeared around the corner. If it were possible for a vampire to throw up, he probably would’ve done that already.

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Smutty Smutty One-Shots (Marvel | The Avengers | X-men | Stranger Things | Sherlock | Harry Potter | Walking Dead | Originals | Vampire Diaries | Hunger Games | James Bond | Lord of the Rings | The Punisher | Doctor Who

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/4uYVmla

by Lululapino

Just a collection of completely self-indulgent, obscenely filthy smut-shots featuring a bunch of really hot guys we'd all like to fuck

Words: 2048, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Sherlock (TV), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men (Movieverse), Stranger Things (TV 2016), The Vampire Diaries (TV), The Originals (TV), Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who, James Bond (Craig Movies), The Hunger Games (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Punisher (TV 2017)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Eddie Munson/Reader, Henry Creel | One | Vecna/Reader, Billy Hargrove/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Tony Stark/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Loki/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Loki/Reader, Vision/Reader, Negan Smith/Reader, Negan/reader, Tenth Doctor/Reader, Jack Harkness/Reader, Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness/Reader, Klaus Mikaelson/Reader, Elijah Mikaelson/Reader, Erik Lehnsherr/Reader, Charles Xavier/Reader, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier/Reader, Logan/Reader, Peeta Mellark/Reader, Jim Moriarty/Reader, James Bond/Reader, Damon Salvatore/Reader, Jack Sparrow/Reader, Éomer Éadig/Reader, Will Turner/Reader, Finnick Odair/Reader, Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader, Draco Malfoy/Reader, Rick Grimes/Reader, Billy Russo/Reader

Additional Tags: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Body Worship, Rough Body Play, Light BDSM, Knifeplay, Gentle Sex, Dom/sub Play, Threesome - F/M/M, Consensual Non-Consent, Praise Kink, Military Kink, Voice Kink, Breathplay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Nipple Play, Loss of Virginity

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/4uYVmla

[itstheimpossibledream]

Only A Play -Part 4

Word Count:1509

Pairing: AU Henry x FemBlack!Reader

Warning: Smut, Angst, Some fluff

Summary: Waking up the morning after sleeping with Henry for the first time.-Series be sure to check out Parts 1,2&3 in my masterlist!Also thanks a ton for your patience. Last chapter coming soon! Happy Reading !

You awoke to the smell of coffee and breakfast, as much as you hated to admit it the bed was the most luxurious thing you had ever slept on and to say you had gotten a goodnight's sleep was an understatement. You stretched out and then it hit you. The memory of last night, Flashes of him moaning on top of you, opening your legs wide,telling you when you could cum.It dawned on you that you had the whole bed to yourself, and you didn't know if he had come back to bed last night or not. You noticed a robe on the back of the door,and rubbed your eyes as you made your way to put it on. Turning to look at yourself in the mirror, you could see his name was embroidered on it and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the ridiculous movie-starness of it all. You make your way to the bathroom, noticing the toothbrush that had been laid out for you. Quickly, you brush your teeth and on your way out of the bathroom you almost trip over Kal. You scratch him on the head as a wordless apology, which he seems to accept because he follows you down the hall towards the kitchen. The scent of fresh bacon is really what drew you to the kitchen but as you walk you hear music,and once you turn the corner you decide to stay for the view. He is standing over the stove shirtless, singing along,bopping his head as the bacon grease pops in the pan. You pull out a chair and sit down admiring the muscles in his back, the small tufts of curly hair that peeked out from under his hat. He must have come back in from a run or something, and you found yourself overwhelmed with both lust and envy.

"Hey buddy!" he says to Kal at his feet before turning to see you.

"O." his eyes seem wider than they should be, maybe you should have showered first.

"Goodmorning." you say, taking your seat at the counter, deciding to not make it awkward.

"Do you want breakfast?" he asks,a big smile breaking onto his face, of course you wanted breakfast, it smelled amazing but,you resigned yourself to making sure he couldn’t tell that.

"Sure, I'll try it but, I thought movie stars didn't have to cook their own food." you joked

"We usually don't " he chuckled, I told my chef not to come in last night because I wanted to cook for you. It'd be a lie to pretend your heart didn't skip a huge beat but,at the same time you hadn't resolved your frustrations with him just because you let him inside you.

"O so you think you can cook?" you joked

"O I know I can cook" he said, plating up the bacon and turning towards you.His plate was a mile high , but you had to admit it looked good. You got a forkful into your mouth and while you resisted the truth, it was perfect.

"He really likes you." he said patting the top of Kal's head with one hand as he forked another bite into his mouth.

"How can you tell?" you asked, narrowing your eyes jokingly at the fluffy akita.

"He slept in the room with you while I was cooking, he usually loves to help me cook because he knows he gets snacks." he shrugged.

"O! I'm more interesting than snacks, every girl's dream!" You joked , Henry let out a small chuckle in response and the rest of the meal seemed to go by painlessly.

He stood from the high- top counter as you finished your last bite, his body was a challenge. It dared you to look away, dared you not to give attention to the deep, muscular v his hips made, dipping into his sweatpants. Begged you to look away from his perfectly sculpted chest and the scratch marks that covered his shoulders from the night before, carving paths of exploration over the expanse of muscled skin. You avert your eyes as quickly as possible but, you know he saw and in a way you're glad he was in tune to you enough to notice.

"So guess we should shower to be ready for this interview."he says placing your plates into the sink, honestly it had slipped your mind that you were here because of work. He brushed past you as you pushed yourself back from the elaborate granite countertop, and you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Why didn't you sleep with me after we....." You trailed off but, you knew that your intent was clear enough for him to understand. You saw the muscles in his back tensing up, he was facing away from you but, he had heard you and it felt as though he was buying time to find the right answer,eventually he turned to face you.

"I just- I didn't want to make this any more complicated than it is." he sighed "I thought it was what you'd prefer." he finishes moving down the hall, into his bathroom and turning on the shower. You follow him in a mix of both angst and vigor, obviously you had not intended for him to think you didn't like him but, at the same time, you would lose all professional integrity what so ever if anyone ever found out you were having a showmance like a highschool student.

"Why?" you blurted out "Why would you think that? Why would I want someone to fuck me and then leave the room?" His face scrunched at your use of the word fuck and it almost borke your resolve.His voice was even when he spoke.

"I know you don't like me okay? I know you think I'm this terrible misogynist who has no talent but, I like you. And Kal really likes you so, for what it's worth I just- I wanted to do what you felt comfortable with but, as it seems I can't do anything right, that was a bad decision too. Excuse me." He pushed past you again to grab a towel as you tried to make sense of his words.

"I'm going to wash up now." he said pulling off his sweatpants and discarding them outside of the room.

"Okay." you said not breaking eye contact with him.

“Well your showers in this place are complicated. I can’t figure out how to tuen them on.” He accepted your joke, chucking lightly and shaking his head, but you can tell he sees your gaze for the challenge that it is as he peels off his underwear, standing before you bare and beautiful. His eyes do not break from yours and before you've entirely thought it through you are tugging at the belt of his robe, allowing it to fall to the floor to fully reveal yourself to him. To fuck your coworker twice in less than 24 hours was a gamble but, clearly it was one you were willing to take. He turned and got into the water before you could make a move on him. Turning over his shoulder and smirking down at you, you accept this invitation without hesitation. He pulls you towards his warm and wet body,as you reason with yourself that it's part of your character study.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck We’re going to be late!” You holler from the back of the uber.

“No we’re not. It’s right here.” He jumps out of the car but, you open your door before he gets the chance to.

“Chivalry really has died in America.” he mumbles under his breath, and you smirk to yourself. It wasn’t that it was a game with him per se, but it sure was fun to make him feel unsteady. After a flurry of hair and makeup artists you were finally ready for the publicity shot.Thankfully, they had split the two of you up for make-up and dressing formalities and while he took his solo shots you were still in the hair chair.When you went up to take yours he was on his phone, barely seemed to notice you had entered the room,and you were almost grateful. Photoshoots made you want to smoke. The set was easy enough, until the photographer suggested the two of you take photos in respect to your characters in the show.Actually his exact words were

” In the show you two are lovers yes? So let’s paint you as such.” Never had you ever dreaded a photographer being prepared but, it turned out these past 24 hours were really a first for everything.

“Just pretend you like me.” Henry whispered to you

“Don’t have to pretend, I actually do like parts of you.” you whispered back.

“Which parts?” he allowed his voice to be barely audible for this and you dropped your gaze as the camera flashed. After being prompted to ‘giggle with eachother less’ (whatever that means ) the photos were finished and Charisse, the show’s publicity manager was rushing you to the next appointment.