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#moriarty fanfiction
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Becoming a Psychopath
Description: Part 6
Reader comes to a disturbing realization  
Warnings: Talk about death
Note: Hello everyone!!! I know it may feel a littler jarring to see a post from me since it's been a few years. I become a mother about 3 years ago and I'm starting to fit a lot of my old hobbies back into my new life. I really want to finish this series because it means so much too me and maybe to some of you guys. I still want to make this into an actual published book but I'll obviously have to change the names as to not infringe on copyright. But, anyway I hope you guys like this!
Word count: 
It was almost midnight when Moriarty came to pick you up. He, as usual, was working to establish some strong criminal connections. Whilst simultaneously ruining Sherlock’s life, yes, there was no doubt, James Moriarty was an overachiever. However, as of lately, he had been daring you more and more to put yourself on the line. By giving you jobs that could expose Sherlock and John just what you were doing. You knew it was all a part of his game. He hated the thought of you working on the side of the angels. “You look gorgeous tonight (y/n)”, Moriarty told you as you climbed into the back seat. “Well my boss makes me wear uncomfortable dresses and heels for work, so, it’s not a choice”, you snap back. “Fiesty tonight aren’t we”, he replied. He seemed unphased by the irony in your voice. Most likely due to the fact that earlier you were almost caught with him. Moriarty had called to schedule a lunch date with you. “Half pleasure, half work-related”, he explained on the phone. John was waiting by the door for you when you had to decline his offer to have lunch together. “Oh, well that’s alright maybe next time”, John had said. Your heart crumbled at the idea of John feeling unwanted but Moriarty had control over you. Whatever he said you obeyed and although you had a strong will he was slowly eating away at that part of you. He was a cannibal ruthless and always hungry. As you were eating John appeared at the entrance of the restaurant waiting to be seated. Your eyes grew wide and your heartbeat quickened. Covering yourself with the menu to avoid his eye line, Moriarty simply chuckled at your flushness. “You enjoy this, don’t you”? You scoff. “Of course, I have expressed annoyance in all this sneaking around. Although I do enjoy the thrill, I’d rather Sherlock recoil in disgust at the fact that you essential work for me.” He smirked. “You’ve given me virtually no choice”, you remind him. He puts down his menu and leans over the table. “Everyone has a choice. Everyone chooses their own path. It’s people like me that guide you either to your full potential or doom”. He mimics the fall of a plane making the exploding sound. You roll your eyes at his notation. Moriarty’s eyes burned with wrath at this action but held himself back, presenting you with a yellow envelope. “What’s this”? You ask. “What does it look like? Your next assignment”, Jim replied. His tone is much harsher with a sting of anger on the tip of it. You open it up with such carefulness as if everyone around you knew exactly what you were up to. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach as you read what was in the envelope.
Subject: Male
Age: 19
Status: Alive
Must be dealt with imminently due to clients impatience. The job must be quick and easy. No witnesses, no survivors, and the subject must be terminated on sight. 
There was a picture of a young man looking away from the camera. As if he was not aware of his photo being taken. You look up at Jim with narrowed eyes and confusion. What’s this? You ask. Moriarty cheerfully sips his tea, he looks relaxed almost zen-like. “That’s your next assignment, I thought we already established that”, he replies. “I know that but I’m not helping you kill a teenager”, you say. Your voice is a little louder than you intended. This brings Moriarty back to his psychopathic demeanor. “You’re not killing anyone, you idiot. You’re simply going to be hacking into his security system whilst my men go in and get the job done”, he explains. You sit back in your seat breathing a sigh of relief but that is short lived when you remember there’s still a kid that is going to be murdered. You want to ask Jim more details about the job but he already seems on edge and making him more upset will only put the ones you love at greater risk. So, you sip your tea and order your food. Trying to enjoy what’s left of your lunch hour. You know what will happen next. Moriarty will leave first then you’ll go back to work until about 6 o’clock. At 8 o’clock a car will be waiting for you outside your flat. It will take you to the location where the job will take place. A man in an all black suit will give you a similar envelope to the one Moriarty showed you beforehand. It contains your payment plus a second location where you will meet up with Jim. 
The neighborhood was normal, houses were all lined up, perfectly bricked with yards decorated like those you see in movies. White fence, flower beds, and decorative gnomes. It was quiet with lights inside that verified the people living there. How strange that no one knew, no one was remotely aware that someone in that exact neighborhood would no longer exist. They will be terminated as Moriarty likes to put it. How strange to know the exact hour that someone will die. "Why"? you ask as you set up your system. Moriarty was humming The Bee Gees and he was stroking his head. "I suppose you want to know why this as you call it a child is being terminated", he replied. You stare at him before going any further with this game. He stares back and a delicious grin appears on his face, "How I love it when you make me explain things like you just want all the gory little details. He slides close to you and you don't immediately distance yourself. He plays childishly with your hair and neck and a small part of you shivers with excitement. "If you must know, although young, he is the inventor of a power bioweapon and well in dealing in arms you may lose yours along the way". "Bullshit", you respond. "(y/n) why would I lie", he seems almost hurt by the idea of you thinking he's a liar. "He's a kid, and you're telling me he's a genius weapons manufacturer", your voice sounds irradiate. "Fine you're right, we're just offing him because he pissed me off and do you know who's pissing me off now", Moriarty had a look that I'm sure only men about to die have ever seen. But at this point, death seemed the only way to end the reign of Moriarty over your life. Until you thought about John and your mom so innocently going about their days. Thinking you're some kind of saint, maybe Moriarty's right, maybe we do have a choice and you just can't escape your eventual fate. Closing you're eyes and taking a deep breath without saying a word, you begin dismantling the security system in the boy's house. To the delight of Moriarty, he is able to get the job done but the boy's life is not the only life he claimed that night. As the men in black attire made their way back to the all-black vehicles, you knew it was over and there was no going back. The person you were before died the moment you pressed your fingers to your keyboard. Moriarty kissed your neck and asked, “Am I the psychopath or are you”?
Tagged people:  ancientbeing10  @unknownwonder         im-the-bone-man  ratherconfusedpotato  
littledumpass
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strangelysilver · 1 year
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i love it when powerful, intelligent characters fall in love with each other, especially amidst a conflict, because those types of characters are often so seemingly invulnerable and untouchable
yet have two of them fall in love and suddenly neither are quite so invincible anymore. they’re each other’s achilles heel. their weakness. 
and they know this. maybe their love will be their downfall. maybe it will all end in pain. the danger is there. 
but it doesn’t matter, because they can’t go back, and they don’t want to go back anyways.
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manias-wordcount · 6 months
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Lost and Found (William James Moriarty)
Kinktober 2023 Day Seven: Body Worship
𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?
𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?
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“Hello…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
  Deep down inside, there’s a part of you that is trying to convince the rest of you that the man before you is familiar. 
  “Do you perhaps…remember me, my dear?”
  More so than just another nobleman you would pass by on the street. But the night is cold and faces and shapes and colors tend to blur in the rain. You have seen many of men walking along these streets. And very rarely do they pay attention to you aside from the occasional drunken pass and snide remark. So it would only make sense that the first noble that went out of his way to touch you- that willingly grabbed your wrist- would feel a least a little bit striking to the memory. It would also make sense that this same nobleman would start telling you lies and stories about how he knew you from long, long ago. Before he had lost you. It would make perfect sense. Perfect sense. Yet it doesn’t.
  Because somehow this encounter has led to you sitting in a dark room in his residency as he kneels in front of you and whispers sweet praises into your skin. 
  You’re a fool to let a stranger convince you. You’re a fool to trust a nobleman as well. But when a man with striking red eyes holds your hand so gently and says your name so quietly, it’s hard to find it in yourself to say no as he offers you a place to escape this cruel, rainy night. There would be no one around to save you if something went wrong. There would be no one around to care about you if you went missing. Yet you still took his arm when he offered it to you. You still fell step in step with him as he pulled you into his side and walked you down a few dark streets. Ones that you were unfamiliar with. Ones that made you feel as though you didn’t belong here. That you didn’t belong anywhere. 
  And yet, he still opened the door to his residency for you, like you were a gentlewoman- deserving of his kindness. He still ushered you with promises of a nice cup of tea and a spot in front of a warm fire- like you were truly an old friend. And he helped you strip out of your soaking wet outer layers before removing his own hat and coat with the absolute softest look in his crimson eyes- like you were his to nurture. His to care for. His to protect. 
  You grew very silent after that. The stranger noticed but he didn’t address it. Instead, he just directed you to the sitting room with a hand placed on the small of your back. He touches you often. You recognized that the very first moment you had run into him. You notice it even more now that he has just helped you settle into a chair with hands that seemed to linger a little too long on your waist. And even as he parted from you to get the nearly dead fire ignited for you now, you can still recall all the guiding little touches and holds you received in just the few moments you’ve known this man. 
  And yet, you aren’t afraid. You’re just lost. 
  So, so very lost.
  He knows this though. The stranger- the man who claims to know you- he knows this. You can see it in his expression when he turned back to you. You can see it up close as he walks towards you with another gentle smile on his face. It’s so peaceful. So disarming. You’re still a little cold. Your tights are a bit soaked. Your boots are full of water. And your dress still clings to your skin. But when he looks at you like that? When he looks at you like you’re worth his time.
  It makes it very hard to say no to him. Very, very hard.
“Forgive me,” He requested to you in a quiet murmur as he got down on the floor in front of you and reached his hands towards your boots. The second his long, pale fingers brush against your boots. you draw back in instinctive surprise. But the man is quick to reach out and grab at one of your legs before you can escape him. Though for a second afterward, all is quiet. All is still. The stranger in front of you’s face has taken a bit of an alarmed expression.  Almost as if he surprised himself with his own actions. But then his eyes casts down and a bitter smile grows upon your face. “But I can hardly contain my excitement now that you’re here. Louis would be most pleased to see you again.”
  He begins to tie your boots. Before you can even question him. Before you even can ask what he means. He pulls at the strings, and he loosens them more and more and more until finally- your shoe is able to slip off. He’s slow as he moves. He’s graceful. Letting his long, blonde hair hang over his face. Letting his pale, beautiful skin reach for you and touch the items that you just own. Your commoner items.
  Your face warms.
  You feel embarrassed. You feel ashamed. You’re far too beneath this man to be sitting her like this. Sinking into this plush, comfortable chair that you know is expensive enough all the food you could ever need to fill your starving little stomach. It’s so soft beneath you. Just like his fingers are just gentle as they close around your shoe and pull it off slowly- inch by inch until finally, it falls free with a dull clump. All for him to turn his head and direct his attention to your other shoe. All for him to turn his head and to follow the same routine. Like you’re deserving of it. Like you’re deserving of anything at all.
  And when all is said and done? When both shoes are off and your feet are free from their cold, wet confines. He reaches forward once more. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. He reaches forward and you draw in your breath and you squeeze your eyes shut. Because this time, you know that there’s very little that he could be reaching for. Because this time, it’s very little reason for his fingers to be stretching out searching for what’s hidden beneath the skirt of your dress. Because this time, you knew what was coming. What was finally coming when you deal with a nobleman like him? Too kind to be honest. Too lovely to be pure. 
  A man is a man is a man. No matter how blue his blood may be.
  So just as you expected, the long pale fingers that had just disappeared beneath your dress have found their way to the very tops of your stockings and pulled down. And just as you expected, the stranger seemed very pleased with your quiet willingness as you adjusted your weight and let him strip you of them. Slowly, slowly, slowly they roll down your legs, exposing bare skin to the stranger’s unholy gaze. You bit at your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut. But you do not fight it. You knew it was coming. From the moment you took his hand tonight, you knew. You do not fight it. You do not cry. But you do brace yourself for the inevitable.
  Except, it never came.
  Your mouth parts in surprise at the feeling, but the words that need to come out sit in your throat and they struggle. They struggle and they struggle and they struggle as if words were never yours to begin with. Or perhaps, they struggle because they do were surprised that a man such as he would take such great care to ensure his lips would know every inch of your skin.
  You feel lost. You feel so lost and that he must have lost it. You had never encountered such behavior before. You had never encountered a man so willing to mix with the likes of someone like you. Never. But for some reason, you still don’t protest. For some reason, you still don’t speak. And for some reason?
  He still continues to press his mouth against your skin. 
  You had heard from other girls who were taken to noblemen’s houses on nights like these before. You heard stories of rough, cruel men picking up someone defenseless and cold and wet- someone like you- only to treat them so harshly during such a delicate act of intimacy. All to send them on their way with a little money for their trouble. A little something to keep their secrets.
  But that is not your story. This is not your rough, cruel man. It’s not. Where in those stories did those girls talk about what to do when the nobleman remains on his knees just to kiss the crown of yours? Where in those stories did those girls talk about how to feel when the nobleman starts speaking into your skin words and compliments and praises that are far too gentle, far too kind to be said to you? Oh, where in those stories did those girls talk about handsome young men with expressions so kind as they speak your name as if they truly know you? All to lead you back to their home and dance their fingers across your skin. To tell you how much they missed you. To tell you how much they longed for you. Searched for you. Hoped for your safe return. Where in those stories did the other girls talk about that?
  Nowhere. 
  Because those aren’t your stories. They never were. And you’re a very lucky girl. Very lucky that it took him many hours to strip you bare. Very lucky that it took him many hours to do anything except kiss at whatever piece of your skin he could find. Very lucky that never once told you anything but the words you thought you would never hear from a man like him. Very lucky your night ended up with you being worshipped. Being praised. Being cherished. 
  Being his.
  For now, you are still lost. For now, you are still confused. But the morning sun is just starting to rise. And the nighttime rain is just now finally turning into a spotty drizzle. And this stranger is finally letting his lips wander and brush and place themselves against a spot that is far too private for you to mention by name. But the feeling is far too good for you to wish he was doing anything else.
  And so, you sit there. In a nobleman’s fine, luxurious sitting chair. You sit there and you stay with your legs parted. Mind at ease. Body relaxed. And lips parted. Your body finally dry and warm but oh-so-wet for a much different reason. And your own fingers find themselves more and more comfortable with reaching out and touching- grabbing him now. Gripping at his clothes. Threading your hands through his hair. And calling out a name. The one he told you. The one he gave you. The one he thought would make you remember. As if the two of you truly weren’t strangers. As if the two of you truly did know each other.
  As if the name of the man now called William hadn’t lost its meaning to you when he and his brother had ultimately abandoned you.
  Long, long, long ago.
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Fandom: Sherlock
Sample Size: 104,398 stories
Source: AO3
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a-freemaniac · 4 months
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STORY TIP...
This time a classic but new to me.
I have a list of 30 fics I'm going to read this winter.
Started last week and love it so far.
Last night I started a classic fanfiction story I neglect for too long.
I'm only on page 145 but it is already extremely promising.
Not only because of my favourite badass Moriarty is a big part of the story and it starts with little Sherlock and a brilliant opening but..
It features the Sherlock I have in my mind.
A genius man child with baggage on his soul so strong it almost threatens to suffocate him.
Lonely, longing and clever is the status of Sherlock until a certain army-doctor doctor arrives but does John really know what he signed up for when accepting Sherlock’s dinner invitations and who is the man who writes Sherlock all those disturbing letters?
Find it all out in Wordstrings aka Katie Forsythe's " All the best and Brightest Creatures.
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@rey-jake-therapist @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @inevitably-johnlocked @johnlockficclub
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intheticklecloset · 5 months
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Not My Name (Moriarty the Patriot)
Summary: William and Sherlock are finally alone together, but before things can get exciting, they start off learning other things about each other...
A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @giggly-squiggily!! SURPRISE!! >:D
Thank you for giving me a reason to stick with Tumblr, for fangirling with me about our favorite shows and ships, for giving me the courage to start posting stories again, for being there for me in my darkest moments. I couldn't have asked for a better friend. I'm honored to know you, and I hope your birthday is THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!! 💖💖💖
(Side Note: This is my first and probably only attempt at Moriarty the Patriot, so I gave it everything I had. I hope you all enjoy!)
Word Count: 2,855
~~~
Will didn’t typically bring strange men home from bars.
Technically speaking, he still hadn’t brought a strange man home. He’d brought home a man he knew – a man he’d wanted to get involved with for some time, if he was honest. A man Louis would absolutely kill him for bringing into their home if he found out.
Sherlock Holmes let out a snort. “You’re going to waste time with that?”
Will stopped shrugging out of his suit jacket halfway, the sleeves still on his forearms and the collar bunched around his waist. “Would you prefer I didn’t?”
“There’s no need to bother with that.” Sherlock smirked at him suggestively. “We can have plenty of fun with the clothes still on.”
“Call me a perfectionist, but I do prefer to keep my clothes tidy, Mr. Holmes.”
“Still on with that ‘Mr. Holmes’ nonsense, Professor?”
Will couldn’t help but smile at him. “For now.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes and lay back on the mattress in Will’s room, groaning. “I’m literally in your bed, Liam. I think we can be on a first-name basis.”
“And yet, Liam is not my name.”
“Smartass.” Sherlock glared at him. “William.”
Sherlock Holmes saying his first name with that kind of growl did things to Will’s insides that he wasn’t sure he could stand, in the best possible way.
He hiked his suit jacket back up into its proper place, but kept it unbuttoned as he strode to the bed and leaned down so they were face-to-face. “Clothes on, you say?”
Sherlock smirked. “Yeah. Then I can do this.” The detective grabbed onto his tie and yanked him down even further, falling back on the bed so they were sprawled on top of each other.
Will gasped in surprise and braced himself on his elbows above the dark-haired man. “You’re very forward, Holmes.”
“Ah, we’ve dropped the ‘mister,’ I see.”
He kissed him. He couldn’t hold back anymore. Their lips collided like they were always meant to, like they’d been waiting their whole lives for this one, perfect moment.
It didn’t take long for hands to wander – for Will to slide a hand from Sherlock’s hip to his back, trailing along his side and ribs along the way, wanting to feel him, all of him. He pulled him closer as the detective wrapped his arms around his neck, playing with the buttons on the other man’s suit jacket.
“Liam,” Sherlock groaned, pulling away, breathless.
“Not my name,” Will growled back, finally unclasping the buttons and snaking his hands inside, grasping his waist.
Sherlock tensed beneath him, and all of a sudden Will realized what was happening here. He’d taken Sherlock – Sherlock freaking Holmes – home with him after a night at the bar, and they were in his room together, and now…
Had it all been a mistake?
No, Will decided, his eyes roaming over the detective’s form briefly, mind whirring. The man hadn’t been drunk – neither of them were – and he’d consented readily to this exact scenario, even initiated it before either of them could disrobe. So why was he suddenly looking at Will with such apprehension?
“Holmes?” he said gently, carefully removing his hands from the detective’s waist.
Sherlock smirked. “What’s the matter, my lord? Nervous?”
The taunt sparked something in him, and Will pushed Sherlock down onto the mattress, and this time, seeing the other man’s wide-eyed look only spurred him onward. He loosely straddled his hips and murmured, “Nervous? I’ll show you nervous, Mr. Holmes.”
“Not my name,” Sherlock shot back, then shivered when the nobleman started trying to untuck his shirt. He let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle and clamped his hands down on his arms, stopping him. “N-No need for that. We can do this with our clothes on, can’t we, Liam?”
That’s when it clicked. Will felt everything fall into place, and judging by the panicked look on Sherlock’s features, the detective knew he’d figured it out, too.
“Why, Mr. Holmes,” he said in a low, teasing register, “are you ticklish?”
Sherlock let out a tiny gasp and tried pushing his hands away. “Don’t get any brilliant ideas, now—ack!”
“I deduce that you didn’t want to disrobe due to your high sensitivity, Mr. Holmes,” Will said as he casually began poking along the detective’s waistline. “Would I be correct in that assumption?”
“Bugger off,” Sherlock grumbled, trying to suppress his giggles but failing to hide a wobbly smile.
“That’s not very nice. I should teach you some proper respect for the nobility.”
Will gently grasped his sides and ribs, digging his fingers in gently but consistently, watching with elated satisfaction as the detective first let out a curse, then tried to push him off, then – failing both of those things – covered his mouth with one hand and gripped his assailant’s wrist with the other.
“I know you’re not trying to hide from me,” Will teased menacingly, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of Sherlock’s hand covering his mouth. “I do have other means to get you to open up to me, as it were, Mr. Holmes.”
The look in the detective’s eyes told him he understood what he meant perfectly.
“Buhuhuhuhuhugger off,” Sherlock spat out through helpless giggles as he finally, begrudgingly uncovered his mouth, squirming on the bed beneath Will’s tickling fingers.
Will tsked. “Manners, Holmes. Whatever will I do with you?”
“Lehehehehet me go!”
“Oh, I think not, my dear.” Will grinned down at him and expertly swept up his wrists with one hand, pinning them above him on the pillows. He relished the detective’s useless struggling as he brought his free hand down to poke along his ribs.
Sherlock spasmed and let out a bark of laughter before biting his lip and going back to those adorable giggles, cheeks turning pink as he pressed his face into his arm to try and hide. “Yohohohou nohohohohoble bahahahahastard!”
“You’re not doing yourself any favors calling me names, good sir.”
“Haah!” Sherlock gasped, arching his back as Will darted down to squeeze his hips. “You ahahahahahass! Stohohohohop alreheheheheady!”
William merely smiled at him, digging his fingertips into various ticklish spots sporadically – waist, belly, sides, ribs – gaining a new sound for each new location. He soaked them up eagerly, wanting to learn them all, memorize every spot that got Sherlock giggling and cursing and demanding that he stop.
But more than that, he wanted to find the spot that would make him absolutely crumble.
“Ahahahahahare you sahahahahatisfied yehehehet?!” Sherlock snapped through high-pitched cackles as the blonde reached back to squeeze his thigh, kicking his legs out into the open air as he struggled.
Will smirked. “Not in the slightest.”
“Nohohohohoble jeheheherk – ahahahahaha!” The detective tossed his head back and fought off a shriek when his assailant returned to his ribs. “You’ll wahahahahahake the hohohohohouse, Liam!”
“I have ways of taking care of your noise if it comes to that, my dear Holmes.”
Sherlock’s cheeks turned pink, though he didn’t appear flustered in the slightest. Well, not from the suggestion, anyway. “Lehehehehehet me gohohohoho already, you ahahahahahasshole!”
“Not my name.” Will shifted his grip on Sherlock’s wrists and finally tried the spot that had been calling to him from nearly the beginning. He scribbled lightly in the detective’s open underarm, and oh, the reaction he got.
Sherlock bucked his hips and let out a screech, frantically trying to hide his face in his arm. “Yohohohohou fuhuhuhuhuck! I’ll wahahahahahake everyone up – dohohohohohohon’t!”
“Aha, the first display of submission,” William chuckled. “What would happen if I were to tickle just a bit harder, hmm, Mr. Holmes?”
“Nohohohohot my nahahahahame, you – AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
William switched from light scribbling to purposeful digging, and Sherlock arched and thrashed and laughed beneath him, finally losing his defiance as he dissolved into helpless hysterics.
“STOHOHOHOHOHOP!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE, LIAM!!”
Will chuckled. “Not my name~”
“I’LL WAHAHAHAHAHAKE THE HOHOHOHOHOUSE!!”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
“SAHAHAHAHADISTIC BAHAHAHAHASTARD – NOHOHOHOHOHO!!”
William let go of his wrists to dive into both underarms at once, tickling ruthlessly, enjoying Sherlock’s openly laughing face and pink cheeks; the way his hands flew down to grasp his shoulders and try to shove him away with no success whatsoever.
“BUHUHUHUHUHUHUGGER OFF, LIAM!! LIHIHIHIHIHIAM!!”
Will took the opportunity to get right up in his personal space, lips brushing his ear as he murmured, “Not. My. Name.”
“WIHIHIHIHIHIHIHILLIAM!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE, STOHOHOHOHOHOP!! PLEASE!!” Sherlock finally submitted, legs kicking wildly as he laughed. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE, WILLIAM!!”
Will finally showed him mercy and stopped, smirking with satisfaction as the detective flopped back onto the bed in a breathless heap, still giggling out leftovers as he covered his eyes with one arm and rasped, “That was the worst…”
“Terribly sorry, Holmes. I couldn’t resist,” Will replied, sounding not at all sorry. His heart was racing both from the exertion and from hearing his name tumbling from Sherlock’s lips so frantically like that. The extra noise had been so worth it.
“Bugger,” Sherlock muttered as he propped himself up on his elbows, still trying to catch his breath.
“You like to use that word a lot, don’t you, Holmes?”
Sherlock chuckled. “Not my name.”
Suddenly Will’s world was spinning in a blur of motion and tangled limbs. By the time everything had settled it still took him a moment to realize their positions had been flipped and he was now the one on his back with the detective looming over him triumphantly.
It didn’t take a genius to deduce what was about to happen.
Will was giggling even before Sherlock cracked his knuckles and wiggled his fingers teasingly.
“Oho? What’s this?” The detective smirked. “Were you just trying to get a rise out of me so I’d tickle you, too?”
“Nohohoho,” Will protested honestly even as the other man started scribbling along his ribs. “I swehehehehear, I dihihihidn’t!”
“Then why do you seem so eager for me to retaliate?”
“Antihihihicipahahahation!”
Sherlock hummed, scanning him with his eyes much in the way Will had at the beginning of the night, making his own conclusions. “Anticipation, hmm? Then what happens if I do this?”
Will’s wrists were pinned together above his head exactly the way Sherlock’s had been just moments before, leaving him no choice but to look up at the detective’s smug features as he used his free hand to wiggle one single finger right in front of his face, gradually moving it closer and closer to his now exposed ribs.
The blonde couldn’t help his reaction; he whined and giggled even though the man wasn’t touching him yet, squirming and shivering the closer he got to touching down. He swore he could feel the ghost of that finger on him already, and he squealed.
Sherlock burst into laughter again, shaking his head. “I’m not even touching you and you’re giggling like a little girl!”
“Plehehehehehease!” Will begged, blushing furiously. “Juhuhuhuhust do it alreheheheheady!”
“Hah! If my lord commands it,” he said, then drilled all five fingers into his ribs at once.
William tossed his head back and shrieked with giggles, doing his best to keep his voice down even as he squirmed, noise after noise being forcefully pulled from his lips. He both loved and hated the way Sherlock was looking at him now, with that triumphant smirk and knowing glint in his eyes.
“You like this, don’t you, Liam?” he teased. “Oh, I’m sorry, William.”
He’d never tried to hide it. Truly, it was impossible to, especially once he got into this position. Will nodded as he cackled, his body reacting on its own even though he wanted nothing more than to stay put and take it.
Sherlock’s responding hum sent shivers down his spine. “Hmm…then what if I were to…?”
The pressure on his wrists lifted, leaving a chill behind that made it clear he’d been released from Sherlock’s grip. Still, he didn’t bring his arms down to stop him. He simply lay there and let out whiny giggles that clearly conveyed how much he was both enjoying and embarrassed by this moment.
“Ooh, interesting,” the detective chuckled, shifting his weight on Will’s hips while simultaneously darting his hands down to squeeze his sides. “What about here – aha! Must be a good spot, eh, Liam?”
Will couldn’t even reply; his giggling shifted into laughter as his arms flew down of their own accord, gripping Sherlock’s wrists loosely. “Plehehehehehehehease!”
“Oh? Please what?”
“Juhuhuhust – plehehehehehease, Hohohohoholmes!”
Sherlock smirked. “If you’d wanted me to tickle you so bad, you could have just asked. No need to come after me first.”
“I dihihihihihidn’t—! It’s nohohohohot lihihihihihike thahahahahahat!” Will arched his back when the detective found a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves along his sides closer to his belly, one hand flying up to cover his mouth.
For a short while, Sherlock contented himself with getting his revenge, tickling all over the blonde’s torso and even reaching back to squeeze his thigh like Will had done to him, but for all of his exploration, he couldn’t seem to find a spot that was particularly ticklish over the others. He hummed, shrugged, and ultimately decided the man must not be overly ticklish like he was. Must be why he liked being tickled – it didn’t wreck his nervous system like it did for Sherlock.
“Now,” the detective murmured after a few minutes of easy tickling, leaning down to withdraw Will’s hand from his mouth and kiss him. “Since we’re already in this position, shall I take the lead?”
Will let out a few extra giggles as he caught his breath and nodded, happy to let the detective do as he pleased with him. He’d been dreaming of this moment for so long, after all. He’d take anything he could get.
Sherlock kissed him with a low growl, and Will wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the detective’s kiss grew more and more heated. A hand that had been resting on his side post-tickling slipped around to trail up his spine, pulling him closer—
Will let out a loud gasp and arched into him, away from his touch. For a moment Sherlock seemed confused, the wheels in his head obviously trying to figure out if he’d done something wrong, but then…
It clicked.
Will was giggling again, but with an added bonus this time – begging. “W-Wait, plehehehease wait, Holmes—”
Sherlock flashed him a wicked grin, and Will knew he was screwed.
“Not my name,” he said, then used one arm to hold him close in a hug trap while his opposite hand dragged fingers from the top of his spine to the base of it, and the blonde completely lost his mind.
“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Will screeched, unable even to cover his mouth in this awkward position. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE, HOHOHOHOLMES – AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“Quiet, Liam,” Sherlock teased into his ear, wrapping his legs around him as well to keep him fully immobile. “You’ll wake the house~”
“I CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T – NOT THEHEHEHEHERE, HOLMES!! PLEHEHEHEASE!!”
Just then, there was a loud pounding on the door, followed by Louis’ voice. “William! What’s going on? Why are you…laughing?”
“Not to worry, my lord!” Sherlock called on Will’s behalf as the blonde dissolved into silent hysterics as he clawed at the space between his shoulder blades. “He’s in excellent hands! Aren’t you, Liam?”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”
“Is…is that…Sherlock Holmes in there with you?” Louis’ incredulous voice came from outside. The doorknob rattled but didn’t give; thank goodness Will had locked it behind them.
Will knew he had to speak up, or this could end very poorly. He tried to shoot Sherlock a “stop for a minute!” look, but the detective merely grinned at him and kept tickling, forcing him to laugh-shout, “I’M ALL RIHIHIHIHIHIGHT, LOHOHOHOHOUIS!! I PROHOHOHOMISE – SHIHIHIHIT!!”
Sherlock giggled against his neck as he bit his earlobe again. “Now who needs to learn manners, my lord?”
Louis was quiet for so long Will was sure he’d left, but then his voice called out one last time, “You have some explaining to do in the morning, brother!”
Will didn’t even try to reply; he was gasping for breath laughing so hard at this point, Sherlock’s expert violinist fingers teasing and tickling his spine like a pro – and when had he gotten under his shirt to wiggle against his bare skin?!
“STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP, HOHOHOHOHOHOLMES!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T—”
Sherlock bit his ear again gently and whispered, “Not my name~”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHA SHEHEHEHEHEHERLOHOHOHOHOCK!! SHEHEHEHERL-EEEEEEEE!!!”
“Sherly?!” Sherlock laughed along with him as he drilled into the base of his spine and the top of it simultaneously while still biting and kissing his ears. “That’s brilliant, Liam! Please do call me that again.”
William was going to die like this – trapped and tickled and made to scream by Sherlock freaking Holmes, of all people. It would be a gruesome, tickly death, and decades from now when he was nothing but bones archeologists would wonder why his skeleton was smiling so big.
But for now, he didn’t care about any of that.
Sherlock Holmes was in his room. Louis had already figured it out. There was no need to hide anymore.
He gave in and let the detective do as he pleased with him all night long.
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thesimpsbasement · 1 year
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Hello! May I request Vil, Kalim, Malleus and Azul with a male! s/o who’s like Sherlock Holmes or William Moriarty? As in reader is very intelligent and stuff
Hello anon and sure! I sorta alternated between the 2 cuz didn't know how to incorporate both but I hope this is to your liking!
Fandom: Twisted Wonderland
Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Kalim Al Asim,Malleus Draconia,Azul Ashengrotto
Author:Mod Betty
Warnings/tags: slight spoilers for book 3,5 ( mainly spoilers on book 5) ,not proofreaded yet
Reader is male
Word count:1,300 words 
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-The first time he noticed your high intelligence was when you actually memorized every item for the skin routine he recommended you
-It took Epel forever to memorize them all and still forgets some
-During VDC he knew you'd be problem because he knew you'd probably see right through his plan and his concerns were correct as you were the one to inform Jamil way before he himself noticed Vil's odd behaviors
-Vil does care a lot about things being perfect, one minute mistake could end in a catastrophe
-You agree with Vil on that but sometimes you rather study than do a self care routine, maybe on your breaks you could add a couple products but not enough to meet Vil's standards
-Vil did admire your determined to adapt to this strange world by learning about it as much as possible, but what he doesn't admire is your lack of self care
-Sometimes he drags you out of your room to do a proper self care regiment
-Like the one you are currently doing
-" For someone who's such a genius you can be quite a forgetful potato" Vil says as he rubs some sort of cream on your face
"Apologies by I can't help but simply indulge of the common things in thought world taht would be deemed impossible in mine" you replied hoping to somewhat justifying your actions every though you knew it wouldn't
" I understand your excitement but you do need to take proper care of yourself,you may deem this unnecessary but I disagree completely and as your lover I'm even more complied to do this" he retorted continuing to apply product to your face
"Oh how lucky i am to have someone to spoil me like this, I'm moved" you tease,smile on your face
" The real lucky one is me to have a brilliant and sometimes forgetful boyfriend like yourself "
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-When he found out about your intelligence he was in awe
-you were so cool and not mean like Riddle and you were easier to approach Unlike Malleus
-Jamil is wary of you for a good while knowing how easily Kalim is influenced but you weren't heartless to use someone's kindness
-Kalim is the type to brag about you like " Look how smart my boyfriend is so if you ever need help go ask him!"
-And he wasn't lying,ever since hanging out with(and dating) you he's been improving in his academics and would always would go to you if he needed assistance, saving Jamil from extra work( which he thanks you for)
-Being in a new world made everything surprise you but also defied the logic of your own world so when Kalim offered you a ride on a magic carpet you were skeptical
-I mean a carpet couldn't hold the weight of well anything so it being able to carry 2 people is already taboo and also how can you control it's direction and spee-
-Before you could finish your train of thoughts and how the pure concept contradicts basic physics Kalim pulled your arm and seated you on the carpet
-The first minute you were nervous as hell,who could blame you, you were literally flying on a carpet!
-After the initial shock the ride was actually relaxing and fun
-You never thought you'd ever find yourself flying around on a magic carpet flying around but you don't mind it
-Turning to Kalim who was looking at you the whole time to make sure you're enjoying yourself, you put a hand on his cheek before saying "thank you for showing me something I would never have thought of" and pulling him for a kiss
-Kalim was overjoyed knowing he actually managed to 1) surprised you and 2) make you feel happy
-Safe to say there's never a dull moment with Kalim
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-He knew you were smart by simply observing how well you performed in class
-A magicless human from a completely different dimension did better than most of the NRC students
-What caught him by surprise was when you knew his true identity almost as soon as you saw him
-What confused him was that you were still referring to him as that silly nickname you came up with
-Even if you're smart and probably have some combat abilities you still couldn't stand a chance
-When confronting you about it all you did was smirk ad say " Don't worry I know a foe when I see one "
-Also good luck having to deal with Sebek since he's suspicious of you and your wits. Who knows maybe you were trying to fool the young master!!
-Would often come by Ramshackle and talk about each other's lives
-He was quite fascinated by your life back home,always solving mysteries and how capable you were in dire situations
-He doesn't necessarily need help in academics especially being the next heir of Briar Valley but would often ask you for help with other stuff ((*cough* technology ))
-For a mere child of man and from a foreign land you have a lot of knowledge to almost rival some fae
-Despite knowing you can handle yourself just fine you're still a fragile human with no magic so he will occasionally loom around the shadows,sometimes your sharp tongue could easily infuriate students from a certain dorm,After all Savanaclaw students don't settle arguments with words,but with their fists but when they pull their magic pens Malleus quickly steps in to stop the fight before you got hurt because of some buffoons
-After the students ran off, you turned to him a smile on your face " I could've handled them myself you know, even if they can use magic they're still brainless" Malleus chuckled " I suppose so however I don't think I'd forgive myself if you did end up hurt" he said sighing
-" How about we go to Ramshackle after class for a cup of tea? My treat" you suggested
-"Anything for you ,my brilliant child of man"
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-The first thing he noticed about you was how calm you were when you signed that contract about bringing that painting from the museum, it was almost as if you had a plan already and were confident it'll succeed
-Seeing how brilliant you were and how you could easily make things go your way he actually suggested working in Mostro Lounge
-Would sometimes challenge you to see who's better,be it who'd give a better offer on contracts or who'd finish homework quicker
-During closing hours he'd offer you a cup of tea and discuss whatever topics you thought of
-When dating your counseling started coming into play
-After some time Azul started getting comfort with being vulnerable around you, often pouring his insecurities as he stared at his lap
-" Sometimes I feel like you deserve better" he muttered not making eye contact with you
"Why do you say that love?" You ask him ,serious look on your face
"I mean someone as brilliant as you shouldn't stick around a stupid,fat,clumsy octopus" he said slight irritation in his voice
You sighed as you placed your hands on his shoulders " Azul look at me" ,hesitantly he did as he was told,teary eyes looking right into your
"The fact I'm your boyfriend should be telling you enough that I'm not going anywhere, I don't stick with people that I don't want too, so if I didn't like you I wouldn't be sitting in this very room now would I?" You said trying to comfort your partner without any sort of sugared words but with pure logic
-"Yeah I guess you're right" Azul said wiping his tears
-Smiling you kiss his forehead has you bring him into a hug " so please cease these idiotic thoughts for both our sake ,you know it pains me to see you this upset"
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Last Updated: 2023-11-30
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Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Jim Moriarty stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
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✑ Little Holmes│Prt. II│Prt. III by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts▪︎〔E᜶A᜶F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
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✑ After You Love by lacelynpage▪︎〔F〕▪︎
Summary: "You meet the most puzzling person at a café..."
✑ Complicated [Soulmate!A.U.] by megs-mostly-random-fandoms▪︎〔A〕▪︎
Summary: "This was not at all how you expected meeting your soulmate would go..."
✑ Devil is a Gentleman, the by keravnous▪︎18+▪︎〔E〕▪︎🚫▪︎
Summary: "You started working at the National Gallery a couple of months ago. Today, the whole staff has gathered to give one of the most benevolent private sponsors a tour. What could possibly go wrong?"
✑ Doomed by make-me-imagine▪︎〔A〕▪︎
Summary: Jim never thought he'd fall in love. He never thought he was capable of it, so how can he convince you he loves you
✑ Landslide│Prt. II by frost-queen▪︎〔A〕▪︎
Summary: When John and Sherlock attempt to use you as leverage against Jim, it forces you to come to terms with who exactly you've fallen in love with...
✑ Suprise Sweetie by frost-queen▪︎〔F〕▪︎
Summary: "Imagine going out on a date and Jim... surprises you by showing up and claiming you as his."
✑ You're Alive by make-me-imagine▪︎〔A〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
Summary: You mourned Jim after he shot himself on that rooftop. Hurt, angry and confused you can't understand why he did it and why he never told you who he really was… Needless to say, when he miraculously appears in your apartment, doesn't get him the warm welcome he expected.
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✑ Always by ladyalicesbookstore▪︎〔A〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
✑ Deadly by bonniebird▪︎〔M〕▪︎
✑ Fight, the by writings-of-a-british-fangirl▪︎
✑ Hostage by megs-mostly-random-fandoms▪︎〔E᜶F᜶A〕▪︎
✑ Midnight Swim by geeks-universe▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
✑ Miss Me? by justauthoring▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
✑ Moriarty's Secret by megs-mostly-random-fandoms▪︎〔A〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
✑ Now Pet by lacelynpage▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
✑ Privilege by bonniebird▪︎〔M〕▪︎
✑ Problem by oneshots-imagines-and-that▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
✑ Rooftop Reservation by movedtosalamooneder▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
✑ Secrets by magicalthoughtsendinterribkefics▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎𑁍▪︎
✑ Sleepover by thepokyone▪︎〔F〕▪︎
✑ Swoon by bonniebird▪︎〔F〕▪︎
✑ We'll See by writings-of-a-british-fangirl▪︎
✑ You Look Like You Need a Hug by make-me-imagine▪︎〔F᜶C〕▪︎
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✑ Dating Jim as John's Sister… by charliesmdawn▪︎〔F᜶A〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
✑ Dating Jim Moriarty... by lacelynpage▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
✑ Living w/ Jim Moriarty... by oneshots-imagines-and-that▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
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See Also: Navigation | James 'Jim' Moriarty Master Index
Authors: @bonniebird || @charliedawn || @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @frost-queen || @geeks-universe || @justauthoring || @keravnous || @lacelynpage || @ladyalicesbookstore || @magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics || @make-me-imagine || @megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms || @movedtosalamoonder || @oneshots-imagines-and-that || @thepokyone || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||
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Being Sherlock Holmes protege/child
Pairings: Sherlock Holmes x teen!reader (slight John Watson x teen!reader, slight Greg Lestrade x teen!reader)
Imagine: Sherlock taking a liking to you and decides that he wants you as his protege
Warnings: mention of struggling with school idk what else
A/N so as always my works are gn!reader so that anyone can read them and idk this idea just came to me might write and actual fic about it (sorry if it might be messy, haven’t reread it after I wrote it)
I love Sherlock <3 that’s it that’s my actual comment
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So you somehow caught Sherlock’s attention weather it be that you are smart as him or not doesn’t really matter, you caught his attention
It was at a crime scene in which you helped Lestrade a lot in the case until he contacted Sherlock, when Sherlock got there he noticed how you helped him get to the answer, or more like you knew the answer which turned out to be correct. Having known much about this crime and the people involved helped you a lot to solve it.
Sherlock who as usual tried to deduce everyone tried to deduce you and noticed that he couldn’t, or he got it all wrong, it made him more curious about you
So Sherlock decided out of nowhere that he liked you, he saw potential in you and wanted to take you in, so that’s what he did
If you were an orphan he got accepted to foster you, but if you aren’t then he needed your parents approval, which he got (with a bit of help from Lestrade and Mycroft)
The first week living with Sherlock was filled with him trying to figure out things about you. In doing that he did actually notice all your bad habits.
He noticed how you were stressed about school a lot, how you struggled with school, which he thought weird as outside of school you were damn smart but as soon as it came to school all went to shit
So he started (without himself knowing) slowly to help you with your school work, he’d say random facts that you would actually need to your assignments in which you wrote down. He helped you a lot that way and when he noticed he still continued, because he noticed you never asked for help. You were a lot less stressed over school because of his help.
After a few weeks he started to notice how you would make sure that he took care of himself but you wouldn’t take care of yourself, so he started to tell you to eat something, to drink, to sleep, like you always told him
The first case he took you to was the first time you ever saw Sherlock get “scolded” though neither you or Sherlock took any mind to Lestrade telling him of for bringing a teenager to a crime scene, you wanted to be there to help so what was the problem?
Let’s not forget that both you and Sherlock are greatly annoyed by Anderson and Donovan because if anyone where to ask the two of you then they are both bloody idiots who doesn’t know a shit, and they do call you both names in which are not to your liking
Changing topic a bit Sherlock always wants to hear what you have to say about a crime scene
Everyone getting worried by your antics of throwing yourself in danger most of the time to help Sherlock who is in trouble
Mycroft actually liking you, hence why he protected you as much as he tries to protect Sherlock
This was all before John, but when John came into the picture everyone started to notice how much Sherlock had influenced you and they didn’t quite know if it was good or bad
John noticed how he now had to take care of two children in which one was a teenager and one an actual adult, but both acted as children and neither could take care of themselves
Stealing Sherlock coat whenever you miss him
“John I can’t find it” Sherlock yelled out lowly as not to wake you as he knew you were asleep
John walked into the living room with a mug of tea in his hand as he yawned tiredly, it was way to early for this “What are you looking for”
“My coat!” John heard the panic start to seep through Sherlock at the mention of his coat being gone.
“Why are you whispering”
“Y/N is asleep, I don’t want to wake them”
John who knew that you did in fact steal Sherlock’s coats from time to time sighed at those words. John took a sip of his tea before he walked over to your door opening it to show Sherlock your sleeping form.
That’s when Sherlock saw his coat draped around your body, the very same coat he had been looking for. You were cuddled up inside it the warmth keeping you warm as well as the familiar smell of Sherlock in which had comforted you into sleep helping with your previous worried state.
John had left the door leaving only Sherlock who stared at you. He sighed, closed the door and went and got another coat from his room. He’d let you have his favorite coat for now. Unknowingly to him a soft small smile had etched itself onto his lips as he thought about the fact that you felt safe around him, after all that’s why you took his coat.
He gave you a coat that looked like his after that
Neither you or Sherlock would ever admit it but you did see him as a sort of father figure and he saw you as his child in some sort of way
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iloveblogging2 · 3 months
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Just toxic rambles😍🥰
You love him.
Everything about him.
Even though he's mean to you.
Even though he hits you.
Even though he cheats on you.
Everyone knows.
They wonder why you're still with him.
Even thought it's an arranged marriage you can still leave.
But you feel in love.
Each time he cheats on you, you brush it off.
Everytime he is mean and insults you. You ignore it.
Every time he hits you. You deny the pain.
Why?
Because your in love.
He will change, you can make him change.
You'll quit your job and focus on the marriage.
You'll cut off all contacts with friends and just be the obedient and supporting wife.
You don't want a child but you know he will stay with you.
At least for a while.
You we're so happy when you got pregnant.
Though he didn't feel the same way
He finally found you attractive only for you to get fatter and for your stomach to enlarge.
To him you look disgusting.
The child will probably be disgusting like you.
You irked him so much.
In public he denies the fact he slept with you.
So how did you get pregnant?
You slept with someone else of course
Which just reduced your public image
When your water broke he just left you with the doctors.
To him, why should he see someone so disgusting give birth.
In the end your plan didn't work because the next day he filed for a divorce.
Gojo Satoru, Albert Moriarty, William James Moriarty, light Yagami, Griffith, Eren , Aquamarine Hoshino, Izana, Kisaki, anyone that comes in mind....
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pleading-the5th · 8 months
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realizing House is just a Sherlock AU where Sherlock and Watson are doctors was life-changing
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ik its not based on bbc’s sherlock, i just wanted parallelling gifs
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moriartsy · 2 months
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beyond gilded chains
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pairing: jim moriarty x fem!reader
warnings: toxic parents, anxiety attack, sexual tension
summary: what is the lesser of two evils? your father and his world of elites he wants to trap you in? or the overt yet unspoken reality of moriarty's darkness?
w/c: 1.7K
a/n: okay, i know this is kind of cliché, but i have an idea for a jim moriarty story and i have to warm up before i get into it. so i wrote this. i plan on writing a second part and possibly making it a series of oneshots / drabbles. but we'll see how it goes...you can send in requests if you want (and if there are any moriarty enthusiasts still)! thank you for reading !! <3
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The grand ballroom of the opulent Ravenscroft Hall shimmered with a golden hue as crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a soft, ambient glow. A symphony of murmurs filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soothing melodies of a string quartet playing in the background. Lavish floral arrangements adorned each table, their fragrances intermingling with the scent of expensive perfumes a polished mahogany.
You stood at the periphery of the extravagant scene, your eyes wandering over the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, each adorned in designer gowns and tailored suits. You fidgeted with the hem of your own exquisite dress, a creation of silk and lace that clung to your figure with the same precision as the couturier's careful stitching.
Despite the expensive fabric enveloping your body, your mood was in a poor state. Honestly, you’d rather be at home, rewatching The Office for the millionth time, but your parents will never let you not attend these events. It's like a chore.
Your parents were proponents of social grace and high society and they had meticulously trained you to navigate such events with poise, concealing any trace of your true feelings beneath a veneer of practiced smiles and genteel conversation.
You sighed.
Suddenly, you felt a new presence at your side. Following the sound of slow footsteps, you found one of your father's associates wearing a smirk that mirrored the self-assured glint in his eyes, sauntering towards you with his hand in the pocket of his dark pants as the other held the fragile flute, a fizzy liquid swirling inside.
"I can see attending these social shindigs brings you such a genuine pleasure. A sheer joy is just radiating from your every pore.“ he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.
You forced a tight smile. "That would be an understatement, Moriarty."
You took a sip of your Dom Pérignon, the liquid gold sliding down your throat as Jim chuckled, unfazed by your icy demeanor.
"Is there something you want, Moriarty, or are you just here to grace me with your charming company?"
Moriarty grinned, "I'm just marveling at the spectacle, my dear. Your enthusiasm is truly contagious."
Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "If that's all, then kindly go and marvel elsewhere. Go strangle someone just because they looked at you the wrong way."
Moriarty feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart as his lips formed an 'O' and his brown eyes widened.
"Oh, (Y/N), don't be like that. I thought we were bonding over our shared love for wealth and excess this boring bunch put on display oh so exquisitely," he said as his hand, still occupied by the glass, swept over the room before facing you again with a knowing smile. "But just so you know. I just did." He added with mischief.
You honestly didn't know if he was joking just to entertain you or maybe intimidate you. Moriarty was capable of bringing all of those people to their knees right in that instance. Including you.
"Do you really want my father to come after you that much? He won't stand for anyone bothering his precious daughter, you know," you sassed with an ironic smile, bluffing your way through.
"Ah, the protective father card, awfully clever.“ He murmured, his eyebrows knitted together before his expression became serious again as he leaned in. His scent invaded your nostrils as you fought to maintain your composure. "But you and I both know, (Y/N), your dear father is at my beck and call. He wouldn't dare lift a finger against me, no matter how many threats you throw around."
You held his gaze, but as much as you tried to hide the signs of the turmoil he stirred within you, you cou+ldn’t help but grind your teeth together. You knew there was no point in attempting to deceive him. He was remarkably good at reading people and you couldn’t be more of an open book to him.
His eyes fell to your lips just for a millisecond before they bored into yours once again.
Suddenly, a clink of the glasses between your bodies made you jump and he smirked at that.
"Cheers," he said with his psychotically soft voice, taking a sip of his drink. With that, Jim turned around a walked away, disappearing into the sea of the richest.
You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He seems to always find you at these events, making your blood boil every time.
Your solitude was short-lived, though, because soon enough, your father appeared at your side. He observed you with a scrutinizing gaze.
"(Y/N), my dear, what was that all about? What did that spider want?"
Always adept at concealing the complexities of your emotions, you responded with a nonchalant smile.
"Oh, nothing. Just a brief exchange of pleasantries."
He probed further. "Pleasantries? You seemed rather tense. Did he say anything about me? Any threats, perhaps?“
Your father was a man driven by self-interest and the desire to maintain his social standing. Moriarty was right, your father would be willing to sell you in pieces if it meant saving his own ass.
You shook your head, your expression composed. "No, Dad, nothing like that. Just some small talk."
Satisfied but still slightly suspicious, your father linked his arm with yours. "Well, let's not dwell on such matters. We're here to enjoy the evening, aren't we?"
He guided you through the lavish crowd, engaging you in conversations that held little interest for you. Stock portfolios, luxury vacations, and exclusive club memberships. You hear it all the time.
It didn't take long for your father to notice your disinterest, though, and it didn't make him happy.
"You should really take more interest in these matters. People talk, you know. It's essential for your future, especially in our circle.“ He hissed at you when he made sure nobody was paying attention, his words dripping with toxicity that echoed the unspoken expectations of your privileged world.
In that moment, you fought an overwhelming urge to snap back, to unleash the resentment that had long been bubbling beneath the surface. You just bit your lip, resisting the impulse.
"I'm sorry, I'm just tired is all," you said with a tight-lipped smile before putting on the aristocratic mask and this time truly engaging in the conversation.
But the air started to feel thick and your eyes started stinging. You couldn’t take a nice deep breath and your joints started to tingle. You quickly put the flute on the tray the passing hostess was holding to hide the slight tremor in your hands.
Fuck. Here we go again.
5 things I can see: chandeliers, flowers, couples dancing, gilded mirrors, candles.
4 things I can touch: my dress, the Champagne glass, smooth marble surfaces, my silver necklace.
3 things I can hear: string quartet melodies, hushed conversations, footsteps.
2 things I can smell: rich perfume, and leather shoes.
1 thing I can taste: bitter Champagne.
You'd fought this anxiety battle right in the middle of a circle of elites many times before and you'd always pushed through. And you always will.
As you finally managed to take a breath and your tears dissolved, you took a quick scan of the room, catching the sight of Moriarty as he watched you.
Great. I’ll never hear the end of this.
The circle of riches finally broke not long after your crisis, and you took that opportunity to excuse yourself from the suffocating atmosphere. The sound of your high heels echoed through your personal space as you headed toward the exit. Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the room, Moriarty discreetly signaled to his bodyguard it was time to leave, making his exit too.
As he stepped into the darkness of the night, he unbuttoned his midnight blue suit jacket, his eyes scanning the grandiose driveway. He started descending down the grand staircase and as soon as he reached the bottom, he spotted you leaning against the newel post of the steps, your eyes closed and arms crossed over your rising chest.
Jim jerked his head at his bodyguard, who nodded and rushed away, leaving you and Jim alone.
"It's a shame for such a magnificent creature to be hiding out here." You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to follow his nearing form. "I mean, can they even call themselves 'crème de la crème' when you're not around?" he asked with a furrowed brow as if it was a serious question.
"You're disgusting," you said and let your eyelids fall again, rolling your head back into its original position, the sturdy structure of the stone scratching the back of your head.
He was now right in front of you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
„Your father certainly knows how to orchestrate an impressive show. How long are you planning to dance to his tune?“
You opened your eyes again, the cool darkness giving way to the silhouette of Jim Moriarty standing before you. As your gaze locked with his dark brown eyes, you felt a complex mix of emotions swirling within.
Everything about him was dark, a demon steeped in shadows, but as your eyes lingered on his, you couldn't shake the feeling that, in some inexplicable way, he appeared lighter than the suffocating life you led with your parents.
"Well, you know. It's a waltz I've mastered"
„Sure, sure. But I also know you can only twirl around the predictable steps for so long before the music changes.“
You studied each other in silence before your forms were illuminated by the headlights of a black SUV. He turned on his heels and headed towards the awaiting car, pulling a gum out of his pocket and popping it into his mouth. Once he reached the vehicle, he opened the back door and turned to you, tilting his head as he waited for you to make a decision.
There was no point in stalling, he knew what you were going to decide anyway. You pushed yourself off the hardness of the pillar and walked towards the car. Moriarty smirked as the two of you locked eyes, watching as you got in.
Before he followed your suit, he took a glance at the doors leading inside the manor, spotting your father as he watched the situation unfold with terror on his face. Jim’s smirk widened as his jaw worked the gum, savoring the flavor. Then he disappeared into the luxury of his SUV, and your father only watched as the car sped away, the tires screeching against the rubble of the driveway.
tbc.
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oop👀
a/n2: thank you for making it this far! sorry for the pineapples.
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rayne-astrophile · 3 months
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William j. Moriarty x Fem! Ranpo! Reader Part 2
William's pov
Honestly, he's a bit scared of you now
Why? He might have misheard it, but he hears you say 'lord of crime' before you leave
He should definitely be careful, you're the greatest detective after all
Three days have passed since then, and every person in moriarty manor already knows about his worry
But his job must stay active
Currently, he's on his way to the abandoned house with Louis, Fred and Moran
He receives a telegram about a request, so he needs to continue his job
When they arrive, the other side where the client's place is dark, but he just shrugs it off
After a good three minutes of silence, he realises that he needs to start talking first
"...Mr. Fyodor Dostoyevsky?" He calls out the russian name. Louis and Moran look at him confusedly, their gaze asking why would a russian be here, in london. William shrugs, he himself is confused. That's when you speak. "William James Moriarty,"
To say that they are shocked is an understatement
In fact, they're flabbergasted
Moran clicks his tongue at his carelessness, which leads to William in danger
He immediately, but quietly makes his way to the other side; your side
"First of all," you speak calmly. "Loosen up, I'm not here to catch you or anything." William narrows his eyes as he stays silent. Louis and Fred are on each side as they prepare for any outcome. "I told you I mean no harm, but suit yourself, I guess." You say nonchalantly. "I want to make a deal with you. Meet me outside, under the big tree, in five minutes. Don't be late,"
The moment moran arrives at the other side, you are gone. Well, thanks to dazai of course, or you would just let moran see you
They did arrive five minutes later.
You are leaning against the tree when they see you, and william widens his eyes.
"Miss Edogawa...?" William says in shock as you raise your hand at him, a grin spreads across your face. "Yo, lords of crime." You greet them. Moran is ready to take out his gun when he realises that it is no longer there. Click. The gentle sound of the loaded gun behind them catches them off guard as they turn around only to see your colleague, dazai. A sly, dangerous smirk is on his face. "Let's not make this hard for us, yeah?" He smiles with his eyes closed. "You give cooperation, no one will hurt. Easy as cake, hm?" Moran clicks his tongue as William assures him. He then looks at you, who is struggling to open your lollipop. "Miss Edogawa, can you explain this?" He asks softly. You let out a hum before groaning. "Dazai, open this!" You throw the lollipop at him, which he swiftly catches with a low 'oof'. Then, you finally turn to the blonde in front of you, your eyes always closed. "You must be wondering why us, detectives from japan are here, right?" You ask as william nods his head. "The queen asked for our help to get rid of you." You say nonchalantly as dazai walks up to you and gives you the lollipop, which you happily plop in your mouth. Louis, Fred and Moran go stiff at your words. How can you say such a thing so carelessly? Knowing you, the greatest detective in the world, you should know better than to tell them that. They are about to attack you until you continue. "But we're not here for that." You say softly. "Plus, it would be a big loss to lose someone like you, william." You approach him and lean in, trespassing his personal space. You open your eyes, revealing your emerald orbs and smile, and william feels his heart skip a beat. "You caught my eyes." You admit shamelessly. You close your eyes again and lean back. "That's why, let's make a deal." You offer. "We will help you create a new world without the royal's interruption, and as payment, after you reach your goal, join us." "Join the detective agency..?" He mumbles as he thinks for a while. You then step back, and whisper something into dazai's ear, who needs to bend slightly as you're shorter than him. Then you turn back to the lords of crime. "Take your time," you take the lollipop from your mouth. "In two days, we'll know your answer." You and dazai start walking away when william stops you again. "Wait...!" You halt your steps and turn back, closed eyes looking at him. "..will we meet again?" "..." you stare at him, or at least he thinks so. Slowly, you open your eyes, and he feels his heart leap in his chest. "Of course, Will. We'll always meet again."
After you leave, moran looks at william, dumbfounded.
"What the hell, william? Don't tell me you catch feelings for that detective?!"
William only smiles at him.
He doesn't really know, actually. But he finds himself loves meeting you, hearing your voice and looking into your beautiful eyes.
Maybe he did catch feelings for you.
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manias-wordcount · 5 months
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Divine (Sherlock Holmes)
Kinktober 2023 Day Twenty-Two: Rough Sex
𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?
𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?
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John tells you that you have the patience of a saint. You tell him that you know, every single time. But it still surprises you how far you’re willing to go for the sake of one man sometimes. 
For instance, right now.
You had barely a moment to prepare when he slammed open the door to 221B and locked it behind him. You tried to greet him with a smile. With a softness that could ease the pain, you knew your beloved was feeling. But he was slamming down the morning paper with the latest update about the Lord of Crime onto the ground before he stalked over to you. You couldn’t get a word in before he kissed you harshly- one hand hovering dangerously over your backside with the other combing itself through your hair to keep you near and to keep you close. And when he was done kissing you? When he was done stealing away your breath to make it his own?
He had begun stripping you down. Pulling off your dress and helping you step out of it. Exposing you to the rest of the apartment as he all but tore off your undergarments between stolen kisses. You’re ashamed to admit that you weren’t much better than him in this moment. After all, you didn’t once bother to speak up about bringing this little moment into the bedroom. You were far too busy tugging his hair out of his holder and letting it flow through your own fingers as you held him against you.
But now you’re past all that. Past the stripping and the kissing and the oh-so-dangerous way Sherlock liked to press his face between your thighs and lap at your core like no man had ever done before. Now he’s got you folded in half on the couch with your legs up on his bare shoulders. His shirt and suit jacket are on the ground by the couch. His trousers are down to his ankles. Or maybe they’ve been kicked away- possibly in the same direction as your clothes. But does that really matter? Does that really matter now that he’s sliding his erect manhood into your opening with very little resistance? Does that really now that’s making you moan and gasp and cry out so loudly and with so little restraint?
Does that really matter now that he moving faster? Going in harder? And harder? And faster? And harder? And faster? And harder? And faster? And-
You cry out suddenly. You cry out loudly. You wonder if it’s the walls or the world that is spinning or if it’s just the rapid beating of your heart. You wonder if the people outside of these walls could hear. If they could know. Of just want the great Sherlock Holmes does to you- to your body and your womanhood. But there is little you can do now that your beloved is slamming into you like you aren’t made of glass and fine china. Like he’s sure you won’t break.
And he’s right. You won’t. You’ve been in this position before. You’ve been here before. You’ve survived it then. You’ll survive it now. You’re Sherlock’s saint, John told you. And the divine don’t break so easily.
But they sure do whimper and whine and moan.
And your only saving grace was that you knew it’d be another couple of hours before John would return to the apartment. But even then, a little privacy will hardly save you from the soreness between your legs that you’ll feel tomorrow morning.
“Sherlock…” His name falls out of your mouth with a loud moan you struggle to hold on to him. It doesn’t serve its purpose. It doesn’t capture his attention or snap him out of his fervor. It doesn’t even get him to falter. To slow down. No, instead he keeps going. He just keeps slamming and pounding and thrusting away at your most precious place. His face buried in your neck, and his hot breath spanned your skin. “Sherlock, ah~!”
You whine again- the sound loud and high in your throat as he manages to make contact with that spot inside you that never fails to get you even louder than before. There’s no calming his mind when he’s in this state. There’s no calming him. Not now. Not until he’s come back to you. 
“Sherlock, please~!”
This time, the call of his name earns you a growl. Guttural and low, it tears out of his throat and into the open. But the sound doesn’t cause you to shrink away. It shamefully only spurs you on. Instinctively tightening around the manhood he has and locking it between your warm, wet walls. Instinctively reaching up and reaching out to dig your nails into the skin of his back- no doubt leaving bright red marks against his warm skin that will be left for him to in the early tomorrow morning. That action gets you another growl. But more than, that it gets him to pull his face away from your neck. It gets him to look at you- dark eyes swirling with so many emotions. 
Frustration. Lust. Anger. Desire. The face of a madman. But the face of your man. Your beloved. Your Sherlock. 
So you clutch even harder at whatever you can grab. 
Because when he looks at you, he doesn’t slow down. The intensity is all there- alive and well. But his movements- they grow more purposeful. As if he can see past the red and the anger and the frustration to give into the lust and the desire and greed of how he makes you feel. Because when he looks at you, he looks at you. He takes in your every expression. He watches as your eyes screw close and as your lips part to let through another gasp. He lets the dark expression on his face melt away into something more soft. Something more sweet. As he forgets about his troubles. As he forgets about the Lord of Crime. As he forgets about his brother or John or his rent or any of his other troubles before this. Because he has something else to look at. Because he has something else to think about. Because he has something else to do. 
You. 
To pleasure you. To lay with you. To kiss you. To hold you. To pray to you. Because you’re his as much as he’s yours. And what’s a saint without a follower to stand behind? What’s a follower without a saint to lead them? What are you without him? Him without you? 
Simple. It’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Because what is the purpose of being divine?
If there is nothing there to prove your divinity in the first place?
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phantomstatistician · 11 months
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Fandom: The Librarians
Sample Size: 1,800 stories
Source: AO3
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loosestitches · 1 year
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statistically improbable that Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy applies to every single one of my ships and yet
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