Author: mystrade-lecroft

This page is simply somewhere for me to keep all the amazing fanfics and art I see so I can revisit (since tumblr might implode). Sometimes I post original stuff of mine, too. Not only Mystrade, but mostly.

mottlemoth:

My brain is too fried to write properly, so instead I’m just daydreaming this: John Watson is asked to The Diogenes one evening while Sherlock is out. He’s surprised to actually be asked by Mycroft, rather than just kidnapped in a limo. He’s even more surprised when he gets there, and finds Mycroft is accompanied by Greg Lestrade. 

John takes a seat at Mycroft’s desk, fearing the worst. He’s never seen Greg in a jumper and jeans before, nor Sherlock’s brother looking so unsettled.

The two of them awkwardly explain that they’re about to go public with something, and they’d like John’s support in managing Sherlock. 

John – concerned – asks what it is.

With Greg’s hand on his shoulder, Mycroft explains that they’ve entered the committed stages of a personal relationship. They’d rather have continued to keep it private from Sherlock, but he’ll realise soon anyway. It seems better for someone to gently inform him now than to let him deduce it on his own.

A shocked John agrees to do what he can.

In the end, he just has to tell Sherlock point blank. Hinting it gently doesn’t trigger any reaction, nor does subtly fishing for a hypothetical opinion. 

Sherlock scoffs, and remarks that Lestrade’s romantic judgement hasn’t improved at all since the divorce – but that’s the worst of it. 

When John phones Mycroft to tell him the reaction, he hears Mycroft exhale with shaky relief. 

Over the next few months, he sees more and more human hints filtering into Mycroft’s behaviour. It’s like Greg is rounding off all his edges. One Friday night John bumps into them both at the supermarket. It’s the most surreal experience in the world, and oddly touching, seeing them both there with a basket in the bread aisle. Greg is coaxing Mycroft fondly into almond croissants for breakfast in the morning. “I’ll bring you them in bed,” he says, and John can’t quite forget the thought of Mycroft Holmes having breakfast in bed – sitting there in his pyjamas, eating almond croissants. Orange juice and a folded newspaper.

He can’t stop thinking about some other things, too. 

Not in a creepy way, he tells himself – he just can’t get his head around it.

Two weeks later in the pub, he buys Greg an extra couple of pints and dares to ask the question. Greg is tipsy enough to grin at him, bright-eyed, and answer.

“Yeah. ‘Course we do.”

“What – what’s that like, though? Sex with… a Holmes.”

Greg visibly fishes around in his head for an answer he can give. It takes him a while. “Myc… pays attention to everything,” he says. “He learns. It’s like being studied. Like I’m fascinating. It’s… really good.”

It takes John a while to get to sleep that night. He’s not sure why.

He realises the next morning when Sherlock brings him a cup of tea – just the right shade of coppery light brown, in his old regimental mug, with one of his favourite oat biscuits positioned perfectly so he can pick it up and dunk it. 

Sherlock doesn’t say a word. He never does. 

He just puts the tea down, like he does every morning, and goes off upstairs to get dressed.

janinawoods:

mottlemoth:

I’m watching The Hounds of Baskerville

and in the scene where Greg Lestrade appears downstairs at the B&B

Mycroft Holmes

is 100%

without any doubt in the matter

upstairs

in the fanciest double room they have

sleeping off the sex of his life

and I will never believe a single word to the contrary.

Mycroft could barely gasp Greg‘s name as the man moved slowly inside him. His wrists were tied to the iron decorations of the headboard, body safely cradled in the softest, deepest blanket, eyes blindfolded. He was unable to feel anything but Greg‘s body over him, his nails scratching down his torso and the place where they were so intimately connected.

„Getting close?“ Greg said with a smile in his voice.

Mycroft could only whimper through his gag, nod even though it was futile. Greg had asked him the same question over and over again for the last half hour. He had woken up already tied. Not that he minded.

„I know you told me you couldn‘t come from this alone, and honestly? I‘m so glad… I want you pinned under me for hours. You make the sweetest noise…“

Greg leaned forward to lick along Mycroft‘s neck, driving himself deeper into the other‘s body. Mycroft moaned shamelessly into the gag, body convulsing, as his cock received just the tiniest bit of contact.

„If I knew you‘d need me to fuck you into submission, I would‘ve volunteered years ago,“ Greg whispered into Mycroft‘s ear, voice strained and husky.

Mycroft could feel himself drifting off, his mind was floating, high on the mix of sensations which felt like it could tip him over the edge at any time, but were never quite enough. He heard Greg talking, murmuring endearments, but his voice barely filtered through the haze. At some point he had let go completely, existing only for Greg‘s enjoyment.

„…Mycroft? Darling? Stay with me, will you? You‘re here for my reward, not yours.“

Greg gently eased the improvised gag out of Mycroft‘s mouth, while never stopping his gentle rocking movement. Then he leaned in and claimed his mouth roughly, bringing Mycroft back to his senses with a start. Mycroft shouted into Greg‘s mouth, when at the same time Greg picked up speed, and his eyes grew wide behind the blindfold.

„Yesss….“ Greg said against Mycroft‘s mouth and reached between them to take hold of his neglected cock. Mycroft almost broke out into tears as he started moving his hand quickly, with just the right amount of pressure.

„And for my reward I‘d really like to feel you come on my cock, gorgeous. Can you show me?“

„A-anything for you…“ Mycroft managed to say. „Gregory… oh god…“

„Oh yes… Show me!“

Mycroft had been overstimulated for so long, Greg barely had to move his hand to make him come. He twisted in his restraints, fingers white around the iron, as he painted his own chest and Greg‘s fingers. He could barely contain his shouts, mouth open, panting. Only seconds later he could feel Greg‘s mouth on his again, and swallowed his groans as he came inside him, shivering.

They remained like this for a while, until Greg had found enough energy to untie Mycroft and remove the blindfold. As Mycroft attempted to get up, Greg pushed him back gently into the sheets.

„I still can‘t believe you agreed to this.“

„You took a gamble,“ Mycroft said.

„A huge one. I knew you‘d either have me sent to Siberia or agree. Nothing in between. But I was betting on the first.“

„Mhmm,“ Mycroft hummed. „I admit that I had expected some kind of demand, but ‚Come with me and let me fuck you every day until I have to leave Dartmoor again.‘ wasn‘t it.“

„Glad you saw it my way.“

„Yes, I admit I am too.“

Greg grinned and snatched a towel from a nearby cupboard to wipe Mycroft‘s chest clean.

„I‘m going to have a shower so I‘m ready when your brother arrives. You held up your end of the bargain so far, time to honour mine.“

„Tell them to bring me breakfast in two hours, will you? I‘m not leaving this room while Sherlock roams the town,“ Mycroft said and stretched on the bed like a giant cat.

„Two hours?“

„Let me indulge a little, inspector.“

Mycroft drew the blanket over himself and promptly went back to sleep. Greg could only laugh to himself.

„What the hell have I gotten myself into this time?“

This is perfect

(pt1)Consider this: Ianto Jones, lying on his tum in bed with his reading glasses on, immersed in a book, in his pjs (*cough* boxers) and he’s not gonna say he’s waiting up for Jack but he totally is. Jack shows up and uses the key that both he and Ianto don’t really talk about him having and using like this. He walks into the bedroom and kind of just stands in the doorway, and he’s got butterflies in his stomach and he’s all warm inside because Ianto is so cute and Jack lov-likes Ianto so much

iant0jones:

(pt2) and it’s one of those moments where Jack KNEW he had feelings for Ianto but he’s suddenly overtly aware of them. Ianto hasn’t noticed him yet, just keeps on reading. Jack watches the way Ianto bites his lip, no doubt because of a tense moment in the book, and he’s just so close to saying it but, as always, something stops him. Instead, he climbs into bed with (on) Ianto, gives him about a thousand kisses and cuddles with him while Ianto keeps reading, reaching back to play with Jack’s hair

(pt3) Jack is just content to be near Ianto like this. It’s the thing he’s always craved but somehow, with Ianto, it’s now something he needs. Jack can’t help but think about how screwed he is. Someday, he’s not going to have moments like this with Ianto and he’s not sure he wants them with anyone else. Ianto always senses when Jack gets maudlin like that so he holds him and reads to him until Jack relaxes and falls asleep beside him. Ianto wraps him in blankets and kisses his forehead and skdjf

hhhhhhh god this is so soft. I absolutely adore this. This is exactly how I imagine their nights in their flat together

Ianto: *reading aloud to Jack*
Jack: can you read that bit over again?
Ianto: uh yeah, sure

5 minutes later

Jack: sorry, can you read that last part one more time?
Ianto: Jack, if you’re not interested, that’s fine. Just let me read to myself
Jack: no no, I want to listen!
Ianto: then why are you not listening?
Jack: *stares at him silently for a moment before nuzzling into his neck*
Ianto: *smiles sadly and plays with Jack’s hair as he continues reading aloud*

Headcanon: Jack loves Ianto’s thighs. (And everything else, obviously)

iant0jones:

god he sure does!!!!! An incomplete list of some of the things Jack loves about Ianto’s thighs:

  • excellent pillows, 10/10 would highly recommend using Ianto Jones’s thighs as pillows. Soft with a lil chub but firm, and the pillow provides a great view of his ass if Ianto’s lying on his stomach
  • going off of that thought, just a great place to appreciate as Jack lays his head down before moving on to other body parts
  • look amazing in both denim and slacks. As previously mentioned, they’re large and firm thighs so the tighter the pants, the happier Jack is. But really, honestly, they look great in any kind of trouser. Or without
  • very nice place to hide some hickeys
  • very nice set of built in drums that are accessible whenever Jack feels like being silly in bed. 10/10 very good slappin noise (Ianto hates this fjkfljkewfejlk but Jack’s cute when he does it so like………….it’s occasionally tolerated)
  • Ianto may not be very athletic but when he’s gotta run after some aliens or perhaps a Ghostmaker, those thighs will love and support him
  • they’re……………..soft ;__;
  • between Ianto’s thighs is probably the warmest part of his body there is (a freeze baby if there ever was one) and Jack’s very happy to spend his time warming up between them

timeviolence:

queerical:

prokopetz:

Concept: one of those cliché angel/demon romances, except the demon is the stuffy, orthodox one and the angel is like “hold my beer”.

#demon: youre SUPPOSED to be a background influence!! no one is supposed to see you!!! youre not supposed to leave any sign of ur presence!#angel *sneezes and twenty feathers drift to the ground*: lmao im gonna cure this chicks blindness and make that guy rethink his life choices (via @andsotheuniverseended)

demon: *sits there drawing up a long contract for a lawyer’s human soul, working out the loopholes because lawyers are sneaky*
angel: i think that dude is on lsd lmao i’m gonna go talk to him in my true form
demon: don’t you have burning wings and a thousand eyes or something
angel: haha ye
deom: *long sigh*

Demon!Mycroft & Angel!Greg