#yuukoku no moriarty fanfic

[manias-wordcount]

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?

“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.

[redskull199987]

Hello🌸

Can I request an oneshot with William James Moriarty having a very romantic bath with his fem!s/o? They sip wine, chat and most of all enjoy eachother. (Sfw)

(Also reader is like, the shy type)

I really hope this made sense, and thank you very much in advance.

Bye 👋

Too Sweet

William James Moriarty x fem!reader Request

Word count:0.9k

Warnings: none at all, PURE fluff, they’re naked at some point, don’t know if that needs a warning

Summary: After all the work, the countless nights staying up, planning and scheming, you and William finally manage to spend some quality time with each other

Masterlist

You grew up in a rural area around London. You knew what hard work felt like. Or at least you thought so. That was until you met William Moriarty and his family. That was when you learned what real work felt like. What real tiredness felt like when you were staying up the third night in a row, observing those Nobles, Willaim deemed undeserving of their Title and Money.

And while you were a hundred percent hooked on William's plans, always supporting him in every way you could, You had to admit that you had never done a more exhausting job before. Not only coming up with the plans and executing them, but also having to see over and over again how cruel most nobles were, how little they cared about the People they thought were beneath them. 

“What’s on your Mind, Love?”

You blinked profoundly, before your gaze wandered up to none other than William Moriarty himself who was standing in front of you. For a few seconds, you were only able to look at him. His ash blond hair was messily hanging into his face. He had long discarded his jacket and tie, leaving him in a plain white shirt. He looked more relaxed than you had seen him in a long time.

“Just thinking about our last Mission.”, You finally answered him, slowly standing up and walking over to him,”I think if I mess up like that again, the Colonel will shoot me himself.”

William chuckled lowly, as he reached out for you, his nimble fingers embracing your waist and pulling your body against his. With a soft sigh, you leaned your head against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut at how sweet he was with you.

“I wouldn’t let him.”, William mumbled into your ear, before pressing a short kiss to your temple,”Come on, the bath is ready.”

You smiled warmly, letting him guide you towards the bathroom. The tender smell of roses and bath soaps hit your nostrils. 

“What’s the Occasion?”, you asked with a smile, as you watched William pull out a few Towels, preparing them for later.

“I think we both deserve something nice, don’t you?”, William elaborated,”All we ever did recently was work to fulfill our plans, my plans.”

You nodded understandingly, reaching out for him and slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt. William only smiled, gently wrapping his arms around your waist. It only took you a few seconds to free him from his shirt, pushing it off of his shoulder and leaving his upper body exposed to you. 

“Beautiful”, he mumbled into your skin, his hot breath hitting your neck,”You’re so beautiful, my love.”

“My turn”, You declared after a few seconds of just admiring him. You quickly turned around, waiting for William to unzip your dress. He took his sweet time with you, running his hands up your arms and resting them on your shoulders. You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks, as he leaned in closely, pressing a few short kisses to your neck.

Finally, he unzipped your dress, pulling the heavy piece of fabric off your body, leaving you bare in front of him.

You bashfully turned back around. Not able to form a coherent sentence, you just smiled at him, before leaning up and pressing a short kiss to his cheek. Without another word, you walked over to the bathtub, stepping over the edge and slowly lowering yourself into the water. A relieved sigh escaped your lips, when your body was fully submerged under the water, only your head still sticking out.

“You gonna keep standing there?”, You chided, once you noticed William hadn’t moved, but instead chose to stare at you with a dreamy expression on his face. Seemingly breaking out of his trance, he quickly got rid of his remaining clothes, before slowly slipping into the bathtub behind you. You watched the water slosh around a bit, until you felt William's arms wrap around your waist once more, gingerly pulling your body to rest up against his.

You sighed quietly, settling your head against his shoulder once more. After a few moments of comfortable Silence, your eyes fluttered shut. It had been a long time since you felt so at peace, so at home.

A small giggle escaped your lips, when William littered short kisses all over  your neck and shoulders.

“That tickles”, You snickered, gently pushing his head away from you. But William quickly grasped your wrist, a wicked grin on his face before he started to press kisses all over your forearm.You couldn’t help but grin at his antics, until he finally let go of your hand, letting you rest against him in peace. 

You felt Williams' hand rise, tenderly brushing your hair out of your face. His soft touch almost lulled you to sleep. 

“I love you”, You heard him mumble into your hair before he pressed a short kiss to your forehead.

You finally opened your eyes again, gazing up into his scarlet eyes,”I love you too, William.”

[angelltheninth]

Mind Over Lust

Pairing: Albert James Moriarty x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, kitchen sex, table sex, creampie, bend over desk, rough sex, back kisses

Word count: 0.5k

Kinktober Day 30: Creampie

A/N: Almost done with kinktober! Honestly I'm impressed with myself. Proud even.

"When ah... when you said you wanted to make a pie with me I didn't realize this was what you meant." You moan as Albert holds you by the hips, his cock slamming inside you with force. "We're gonna make a mess."

"Only if you keep moving." He leans over to kiss your shoulder, "I was planning to baking actually. But you looked very enticing with that white cream on your hands. I couldn't help myself." He pressed his chest to your back, rendering you almost immobile under his muscular frame.

Albert was usually the perfect gentleman, he doted on you, made you feel loved and cherished, made sure everyone knew how much he appreciated you. No lover has ever treated you like this. Or satisfied you as much. For all his perfect demeanor he was a beast in the bedroom, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm, reducing you to a shaking, whimpering mess with his cock.

Did you mind that dual nature? Of course not, you loved seeing this other side of him, reserved only for your pleasure. This was a daring move however, making love in broad daylight and in the kitchen no less. You could be seen, or heard.

"Then you better keep as quiet as a mouse." Albert deliberately gave a hard thrust, testing your resolve.

"I can't. Feels to good. Your cock..." You brought your hand to your mouth and bit your finger, feeling the coolness of the shiny ring on your ringfinger. "I need to feel you deeper."

"Do you? That's not every proper talk for a lady." You could feel his cock drag along your walls as you clenched around him, keeping him inside for as long as you could, backing up into his cock whenever he got too far out for your liking, "Neither is this behavior. Where's the shy lady I proposed to hm? Or perhaps this has been you all along, I just help bring the real you to light."

There was definitely truth to his words. Without him you would never think of doing something this indecent in a public place. But with Albert looming over you, his hot kisses traveling down your back, his hands keeping you in place as he keeps hammering his cock into you, making dirty, slippery noises accompanied with his balls slapping against you, fuck, you don't care about being prim and proper anymore, it's the furthest thing from your mind right now. All you want is, "Come, please come, come inside me, give me your cum Albert. Pleasepleaseplease."

How could he possibly refuse a request like that? He can't, he won't, he doesn't. He gives you everything he has and you make sure to take it all, your body shaking as your cunt spasms and clenches around his throbbing cock.

You felt him pull out, you were about to complain but you felt the hot stream of cum hit across your back, and even better, dripping down your legs, pooling under you, "Well would you look at that darling, you were right. We did make a mess."

[wait-thats-illegal]

I think I'm gonna try to start writing my yuumori fic again ("If He Be Mr. Hyde, then I Shall Be Mr. Seek.") I have majority of the ending planned (or as much planning as I'm capable of, my writing consists of me opening a Google doc and just going for it with little to no prior thought) and am overall pretty proud of the story so I really want to finish it

[cinycesum-fan]

fanfics, headcanons, theories, fanons and fanarts keeps a fandom alive, even after it ends

[tulipsforvin]

Hi!! I really enjoy your works!!! Thank you very much for sharing your talent with us!!!

🚫NSFW ahead

I'm not sure how to write this, but, I'd like to request a one shot with William. Like, after a tiring day, he and his darling have a very romantic bath (with like, flower petals and champagne) which slowly turns into soft sex? Also, if you feel comfortable, can the reader be fem?

I hope this is ok with you, if you don't want to write it then don't!! Thank youuuuuuuu byeeeeeeee

A/N: My god, this is the cutest way I've seen anyone request smut. GUYS IM KINDA PROUD OF RHIS

William J. Moriarty x Fem!Reader

The crickets chirp emphatically in the green grass outside the residence, rubbing rough portions of their wings together. The weather tonight is humid — only further increasing the fatigue of the couple inside.

The two, even with the damp and muggy environment, can't help but slump against each other helplessly — peeling off the layers of clothes that bound each other.

William's eyes immediately go hazy at the sight, placing his palms on her hips and caressing the soft skin there with tenderness.

“Dazzling.” He murmurs, exhaling shakily. It had been too long since the two had any form of intimacy. The absence of affection between each other due to the strenuous work that had been piling up for the both.

“How I've longed for you.” William whispers as he leans in against (Name), angling his face just enough to pepper the softest of kisses against his lover's supple neck.

The two, lost in their love for each other, feeling the need bridge the gap of contact that they had to suffer through for so long, lock their lips against each other. William's caresses that have not yet left his darling's hips grow softer. Infinitely more tender.

(Name), in a daze of kisses, loops her arms around William's neck and brings him in closer. His lips return to her neck and she tips her head back to let him nibble on the skin better. He reaches her calves, pulling her up. (Name) wraps her legs around his waist.

The quiet and small noises of lips connecting and disconnecting, soft sighs, shaky breaths and the discarding of their remaining garments hitting the marble floor with a soft rustle follow them into the bath.

The couple enters the bathtub embraced by porcelain curves and floating rose petals with a small splash. Scented candles cast a gentle orange glow on the entire bathroom along with two glasses and a chilled bottle of sparkling wine that stand ready for them.

Small laughs from the two eventually lead to eye-contact that lasts longer than they usually do, sipping on champagne lead to gazing at each other's lips and before they're aware — they're kissing each other again.

(Name) crouches down low on the bathtub, her breasts resting against the rim of it and William kneels behind her, hot breath hovering over her skin as he sensually trails his lips from her nape to the small of her back, causing a wake of goosebumps.

She turns her head over her shoulder to look at him, eyelids equally hooded with lust as she places an index finger under her chin to pull him close. William's chin now rests on (Name)'s shoulder to inhale her scent before he locks his lips with her own again, causing her eyelids to flutter shut momentarily.

His fingertips slowly, sensually and languidly travel over her back to her ass until they rest at the apex of her legs. He taps very slightly at the entrance with his middle finger, asking for permission.

“...May I?” He asks in a hoarse whisper against her earlobe — the raspiness and the desperation in his voice sounding delicious.

(Name)'s breath hitches, nodding her head ever so slightly. With a soft sigh, William slides his middle finger into her wet folds, watching with delight as her head tips back against his shoulder. He kisses her cheek.

William slowly pumps his fingers in and out of her, the slick making it fairly easy to ease another finger in. He treats her body like a delicate instrument, withdrawing the most melodious moans out of her throat.

(Name) feels waves of pleasure begin to overcome her — slowly, but surely. A curl of his fingers and that causes (Name) to go over the edge. She’s trembling, hips bucking as she rides out her orgasm, blabbering William's name over and over again in soft murmurs.

He allows her a moment of rest, watching her chest heave heavily as she comes down from her high. He's panting just from watching her come.

His mind's a flurry of all obscenities that he wants to try out with her. To ravish her. However, that wouldn't really do. Tonight was a night reserved for affections, after all.

He aligns his tip against her sex, rubbing it up and down her entrance to gather wetness that would aid as a form of lubrication.

With a silent whisper of announcement to enter her, William places his hands on (Name)'s hip — guiding him down on his cock.

The both gasp softly as he bottoms out, giving her a moment to get used to him before he begins to move inside of her. Slowly, gently. (Name)'s lips find his again, swallowing each other's moans as the two roll their hips against each other; cheeks flushed pink.

“Are you alright?” He whispers. “Is this okay?”

(Name), her head already too high up in the clouds, couldn't answer — only gasps and moans and the prettiest of whimpers leaving her lips as her fingers claw feebly at the rims to try and ground herself. To stabilise her, even if just a little against the pleasure.

“Liam..” She moans out, her walls tighten around him. William groans, head falling against her shoulder at the sudden clench.

“I—” He huffs, leaving a faint red mark on her nape. “You need to tell me, (Name). If you don't like what I'm doing to you right now.”

“I do. Oh god, Liam.” (Name) inclines her back, pressing her plushness further against his hips - pulling him in, sucking him in deeper. “I love it. So, so much. I love you.”

(Name) feels a warmness begin to pool in her stomach sizzling waves of pleasure begin to take over her - especially when William extends a hand between her legs to rub at her clitoris. The sensation, too overwhelming for her makes her orgasm around his cock. Her legs tremble, moaning into her arm as she experiences her second orgasm of the night.

William shudders in pleasure, snapping his hips against hers repeatedly but the motion is so very beautiful, so very tender.

“You've done well, love. So well. Hold on just a little longer for me.” He grasps at her curves to steady himself, murmuring all kinds of praises as his thrusts go from a steadfast, loving pace to a more sloppy, desperate one.

“Can I—” His words are cut off with a grunt, feeling her insides flutter around him brilliantly. He pants heavily as he leans back ever so slightly. “—haah... inside you?”

A whimpered “Yes” in that sweet, sweet tone - so breathy and so lovely of hers was all he needed, all that was required to tip him right over. He released, head slumping forward as he exploded into his own orgasm.

A mixture of moans, groans and whimpers echo throughout the bath, both of their eyelids flittering shut. William bucks his hips gently, slowly - making sure his pace is kind to her body before he eventually stops.

A comfortable silence fills the air, the two gasping for air from their intimate activities. William pulls (Name) on top of him so she can easily settle and relax against his chest, his back now resting against the rim of the bathtub while he pulls her in close to him.

“That was..” (Name) exhales. “Amazing.”

William hums in satisfaction, pushing a lock of (Name)'s hair behind her air. “It was.”

“I guess we need like, an actual bath now, huh.” (Name) grins lazily, snuggling up to him.

William returns the smile, kissing her head.

“I guess we do.”

[tinkerleaf]

Nap Time

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

I think William would let you crash in his office, especially if he really likes you. Sometimes he's in there, sometimes he's not. You would sit in the chair in front of him, which was quite comfy. His office is always warm and smells nice, just like him. You bring a light throw blanket with you if you're feeling extra tired.

You don't talk much when you're there, as he does his own thing. The only sound between the two of you is the scribbling on paper and the occasional sip of tea. It's a comfortable silence that you couldn't replicate with anyone else. He looks up to check on you often.

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Next ->

[gh0st-author]

mastermind.

Pairing: William James Moriarty x Reader

Summary: What you needed was a chance— an opening. A cause to draw him out, to approach him. But that would be easier said than achieved. Impossible even.

Tags: fluff, a little bit suggestive but nothing much, Liam is a softie

A/N: so i was listening to mastermind by taylor swift and i just realized how much it fits liam, so this brainrot you see here was born. also this is set in america somewhere in those 2.5 years after the billy incident but before they return to london. my thought process was that liam and sherlock were doing some undercover work at this ball. additionally i decided to have Liam keep his eye here man's been through enough...

The moment was like something straight out of a fairy tale. An instant that you can't quite place; a dream that would unravel and slip from your grasp and glide through your fingers if you only tried to look too close at it. Gentle candlelight tracing abstract patterns over the entire hall, making the entire scene seem magical. Delicate music from numerous hidden instruments filling the air with yearning, so beautiful it could make your heart ache. The muffled sounds of secret whispers and the rustling of numerous exotic fabrics joining the cacophony of sounds, not to overpower but to add to the overall mystique and intricacy of the night. And him. Him— this radiant and golden being, akin to an angel, luring you in, stealing your coherence.

Your eyes were on him as soon as he'd entered the room, followed by another dark-haired man who you couldn't make yourself glance at for the life of you. Because doing that would mean taking your eyes off him. Elegant frame gliding through the mass of people, pale golden strands swaying with the movement, awakening an urge in you to trace your hands through them, to find out if they were as soft as they looked.

This feeling washing over you, filling your every cell, clouding your mind more than the glass of expensive wine in your hand, was new. Completely and irrevocably unfamiliar. And that terrified you tremendously. How could one person have such an effect on you, before you'd even exchanged so much as courteous greeting?

He must've felt your attention on him— how could he not when you were burning holes in the back of his head— and his head turned towards your hiding place, the little nook you slotted yourself in as to avoid unnecessary prattle of the ladies around you.

Oh...

You felt as if all of the air had been leached out of the room in that one moment, then instantaneously rushed back in leaving you light-headed. Bewitching. That was the only word adequate enough to describe his face, his eyes. His features were timeless, elegant, touched by the innocence of youth but also impossibly wise at the same time. And when his sharp scarlet gaze connected with your own, what little thoughts you had— however trifle they might've been— evaporated into mist and smoke. Those were eyes that never missed anything, that appeared to gaze directly through your flesh and blood and straight into your soul, seeing every detail, every dirty little secret. Yes, this man was absolutely breathtaking; utterly captivating.

You averted your gaze, feeling exposed and not wanting to stare too hard. This night had just become infinitely more interesting to you. But, despite all of the stars aligning and conspiring to place you in the same room with such a magnetic and compelling presence, you had no conceivable way of conversing with him. In truth, you were only here in the first place because of your cousin, and this ball was nothing more than just a chore to you who was supposed to be her chaperone. You had no connections and no reason to seek him out, no matter how much your heart yearned for it. Even now, you could see his outline floating in the corner of your vision, surrounded by numerous important individuals.

You sighed, and deciding against hiding for now, you smoothed out your gown and abandoned your little nook. It was due time to try to mingle with the dense crowd.

Like his shadow, a phantom, you traced his steps around the room, trying to find an opportune moment to etch just a little bit closer. Wherever you went you glimpsed him from the corner of your eye, always near, but always just out of reach. As soon as one group had finished with him, he was already onto the next. He was everywhere—  anywhere you looked— making your desperation rise. It was a known fact that our psyche worked in contradictory ways; the more one tried not to gaze at something or think of something, the more the mind made them a prisoner of exactly those thoughts. The echo of his silhouette followed you around, always just a tad bit too far away.

Positively exhausted by the constant ongoing battle between your mind and your heart, you retracted back to the faraway corner of the room, choosing instead to behold the art and numerous artifacts nestled there. What you needed was a chance— an opening. A cause to draw him out, to approach him. But that would be easier said than achieved. Impossible even.

Deep in thought, one painting caught your attention. It was a magnificent piece, truly, but you were not able to decipher what exactly about it ensnared you so. It appeared no more extravagant than any other painting in the room, yet you couldn't look away from it. It felt as if it was pulling you in, calling to you.

"Captivating work, is it not?"

The sudden voice to your right made you startle, and you were forcefully ripped away from your mussings. You almost didn’t need to look to know who the person who'd just spoken was. After all, your body was tingling in his mere presence, every cell coming alive simultaneously, vibrating with hope now that he was the one who sought you out first. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, you pivoted to regard the stranger. "I'm sorry?"

"That painting." He flashed you a gentle smile, his unusual-colored eyes regarding you with interest as he approached to stand beside you. "It's a true masterpiece. The artist uses patterns and geometry to create a most aesthetically pleasing piece, painting illusions to trick the viewer into thinking they can actually step into a two-dimensional space. It's rather extraordinary."

His voice was soft and melodic, slightly amused. Your eyes caught at the slight upturning of the corners of his lips as he spoke, unable to look away. It was either that or get lost in his knowing gaze. "Are you an artist?"

"A mathematician, more accurately." You heard a wistful note in his voice. "I used to teach at a university in England, but sadly, I don't anymore." He gave you another smile, this one a little dimmer than his last one. "Some circumstances got in the way. But that is neither here nor there. I take it you are someone's chaperone tonight. If I had to guess, the young lady's over there."

You followed his gaze and saw your cousin a little further away, engaged in a conversation with some friends. How did he know that?  "I am. Thank you for your insightful deduction Mr.–"

"Liam. Call me Liam."

"Liam..." You whispered his name like a prayer on your lips, tasting how it felt on your tongue. "No title? Is it short for something?"

"No... just Liam. Classes and titles mean nothing to me." You couldn't quite read the emotion in his voice as he said that, layers of something more— perhaps dejection— intertwined beneath a calm reply. "And what shall I call you, Miss–"

"Y/N" You held out your hand to him, and Liam, never breaking his eye contact with you, raised it gently to his lips, leaving just a breath of a kiss there.

"Y/N..." He too sounded like he was sounding out your name, familiarising himself with it as if he planned to continue saying it many times more. "The pleasure is mine."

That one touch, that one kiss against your gloved hand, was enough to light a fuse within you. You felt flushed all over, both too hot and wrecked with chills at the same time. You needed to know more about this man. He was like a Venus fly trap, a mystery you wanted to solve, an equation you wanted to assess. "Did you come here alone tonight?"

"I am accompanying my good friend on some business tonight. He is the black-haired individual currently giving us the burning stare." And sure enough, when you followed his gaze, you spied the gentleman in question, the one who followed Liam when he first entered the room, giving you both suspicious glances. Looking at him now, no longer blinded by the brilliance of the mysterious mathematician, he was a handsome individual, tall and all angular features, but that was overshadowed by the arrogant eyebrow he raised at you as if contemplating to terminate your further involvement with his friend.

"Have I done something to upset him?" You haven't even met him, yet he seemed to not be pleased with you.

"No, he's just paranoid. Unnecessarily." Liam narrowed his gaze at him, and they appeared to be exchanging a wordless string of arguments between them, after which the man shrugged his shoulders and flashed you both a sheepish smile, putting his hands in his pockets and turning away to talk to some other nearby attendant. Liam's attention was back on you now. "Excuse his behaviour, he has a lot on his mind tonight."

You, too, had a lot on your mind tonight— mainly, how to slip away somewhere where you could be alone with him, away from the eyes of everyone so you could continue your conversation uninterrupted. Suddenly, a thought permeated the fog in your brain. It wiggled through and lodged itself right in the forefront. An opportunity to get him alone... This was it. If you could use this to your advantage, you could make an unfortunate situation into something worth remembering. "Don't worry. I don't mind—"

You cut your sentence off, bumping into him purposely. Your glass almost slid out of your hand, deep burgundy splashing over his coat. He caught you, a true gentleman, as you widened your eyes and flew into a flurry of apologies, as you quickly set down your— now empty— glass. "Oh my God, I am so sorry! I don't know what happened, I must've been more inebriated than I thought. I'm so sorry!"

Liam was a picture-perfect opposite to your hysteria of movement. He calmly grabbed his coat and slid it off. The dark burgundy stain had bleed through the outer layer onto his white shirt beneath, and he let out a chuckle as he inspected his coat and the stain on his chest for the damage. "Don't worry, it was an accident. Such things happen." He sighed at the coat. "Although, I suppose I can't show myself in front of our business partner tonight like this."

"Please let me do something!" You pleaded, doing your best to show him how remorseful you were. It wasn't all for show, you did feel kind of awful for staining his clothes. "I have a handkerchief, I can help you. Please, follow me." If you fail to plan, you plan to fail— or so they said. Life was about making the most out of unexpected situations, and you were not about to waste this opportunity that had been given to you. You grabbed his arm and tugged him along with you as you slinked by the walls and made your way out of the hall.

You entered the first room you saw— a study, it appeared— and pulled him with you to sit down on the couch. Quickly taking out the handkerchief, you grabbed the coat from his hand and started dabbing the stain. Luckily, his coat was dark, so it wouldn't be too noticeable in the candlelight. All the while, Liam said nothing and just observed you with an unreadable gaze.

"I expected you to be more cross with me," you said after some time, finally daring to glance in his direction. You hoped he wasn't, otherwise, this plan was all for nothing.

That gave him a pause, and he blinked at you, as if you said something unexpected. "I am afraid I don't understand. This was just an accident that could happen to anyone. There is no reason for me to be cross. Were you, perhaps, afraid I would be?" He smiled at your frown, and you averted your gaze back to the task at hand. A contradictory enigma. This coat was of very expensive material, yet he made no complaints. Chose kindness, instead of anger. You were definitely right to get this mysterious man alone, even now you felt the inescapable draw of his presence.

"It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both," you murmured absentmindedly while still gently dabbing away on the stain, doing your utmost to try to get rid of it.

"Oh, you are familiar with Machiavelli's works?" He leaned back, placing his arm on the armrest of the couch and resting his jaw on the back of his hand.

"I've read some here and there. Why? Are you an enjoyer of his books?" You raised the coat up to the light and observed it. This had to do for now until he could get it cleaned.

"I too have read them here and there." His gaze was sharper now, both cunning and amused. It made you shiver— but not unpleasantly, you realized with a start. "I find his takes on the authority and aristocracy most fascinating."

Laying the coat aside, you scooted closer to him, the couch making you all the more aware of your proximity, the dim lights making it all seem more intimate. This close you could even smell a faint tinge of his cologne, mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol you spilled. This turned out to be a perfect excuse to touch him, to feel him. Everything went precisely by design.

Dizzy from the heat of his body, now so close to you, you slowly started to dab at the stain on his shirt. "You truly are an enigma, Mr. Liam, are you aware?" He only continued to observe you with his slight smile, the rising of his eyebrow the only indication that he was listening. Taking that as an invitation, you prattled on. "You seem like someone of noble birth, yet you appear to disprove of the class system and disregard any titles. You seem awfully intelligent, and yet I have not seen your name in any field of research, not even math." You took this opportunity to smooth out his collar, fingers gently grazing the skin of his collarbone. "And you approached me, and were able to accurately ascertain things about me I gave you no indication of." You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly glanced down again, resuming your attempts at trying to clean up the wine.

You felt him let out a little contemplative hum, as he leaned closer to you. "You are an enigma as well, Miss Y/N. You have followed my every move since I appeared here, yet refused to approach me the entire night. You still don't seem to trust my words, but you have not yet inquired into anything I've said. It is almost as if you enjoy this little game." He raised his hand, and you watched with bated breath as he caught a strand of your hair and twirled it around his finger. "Tell me, is it fun trying to uncover my secrets?"

Hands falling into your lap, the stain and handkerchief long forgotten, you felt light‐headed again. Like a snake dancing to the magic flute, both your body and your mind were charmed, following his every move. This little plan of yours might be working better than you anticipated. If you actually survived until the end of this game, of course, because if he kept looking at you like that, giving you his undivided scrutiny, you doubt you could last. "You followed me here without question as well." You managed to whisper out. "Did you perhaps have some ulterior motives with me too, Mr. Liam?"

He gave a little tug at the lock of hair wrapped around his digit. "I wonder..." His sharp eyes were now unfocused and thoughtful as if he himself couldn't really understand his actions. "Whatever compelled me to do that?"

You glanced at his eyes, then his lips, wondering if this was such a smart idea now. Maybe you shouldn't even be here, shouldn't entertain your wicked thoughts. Your draw to him was too powerful, dangerous even. It felt like too much and too little at the same time as if you could ignite and burn and blaze down to smithereens with a single word from him, drown with a single touch.

At that moment, the door slammed open with a loud creak, cutting off your train of thought. Both of you reflexively jerked back from your compromising position, the moment gone and magic ruined. The room now felt infinitely colder without his proximity, the couch impossibly wide. Your startled gaze fell on the culprit who had barged in so suddenly, finally able to breathe without Liam's cologne tampering with your thoughts. It was him, the man Liam introduced as his friend earlier. He glanced sharply at you both, eyes staying on you for a heartbeat longer than necessary, studying you. Contemplating. You could see the same mysterious intellect you saw in Liam in him, the same razor-sharp mind, the same murky and vague past. His eyes widened imperceptibly as if taken aback by your inspection, then filled with something akin to grudging understanding. Then he swiveled towards Liam and pointed behind him. "Liam we have to go. Work's calling."

A sigh, no louder than a disturbance of air left him, and he rose, giving you a remorseful look. "Sorry, dear. Seems like our time is up. Hopefully, I will see you again one day, under more fortunate circumstances." He quickly donned his coat, adjusting it to best cover up the stain, then with a hurried gait followed his friend out the door.

"I am sure you will." You whispered, as you watched him leave, him only turning back once to shoot you a conspiratorial grin. As if saying to keep what happened here a secret.

Checkmate, you thought. You will be seeing him again, you were sure of that. There was just something about him that sang to you, some kind of kindred warm flame, like fire burning in a hearth. But in his calm gaze, you also caught a glimpse of something else beneath, another fire, blazing hot, ardent, and dangerous. All of it made you even more curious, made you crave him more. You had to arrange a meeting with him again.

You couldn't lose.

Truly, nothing moved faster than time. It was outstanding, mind-boggling, how it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. And now, two years later, you found yourself with the hard wood of the door of digging harshly into your back as you leaned back to let Liam deepen the kiss. The soft rustling of clothes and your quick breathing were the only sounds permeating the room of Liam's and Sherlock's shared apartment in Brooklyn. Barely any light illuminated your two silhouettes, only the moonlight and a rare street light outside of the window providing any illumination.

Gasping for breath, his lips still chasing yours, you attempted to put some distance between you. "Wait, what about  Sh—"

"Do not worry." He whispered, still eager to continue. "Sherlock is already on his way to London as we speak. So is Billy. No one will bother us."

"That means we have to leave for London soon, too." You gripped his shirt in your hand, raising on the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear. "How convenient that we are free to spend our last night here as we wish." Pulling back, you looked back at him, face full of mirth, lips splitting into a cheeky grin.

Cupping the back of your neck, he gave you one last kiss before leaning away. "Call me an opportunist."

Gently, his hand slid down to your waist as he moved you from the door and laid you achingly slowly on the bed. Your own hands moved from their position on his chest to intertwine in his hair. Soft and exactly as silky as you thought it would be two years ago. On that magical night. A night so much like this. His gaze was soft, and melancholy, as if he too was remembering that time. Most days, you were scarcely able to wrap your head around the fact that so much time has passed and that you've won the affections of such an ethereal being. That you yourself were able to set the wind to your sails that first night, to not just play the role of a pawn, but to be the king instead.

He regarded you in silence for quite some time, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your waist, your hips. His face was unreadable, haunted. "I would ask what you're thinking about, but I'm terrified to know."

He let out a quiet chuckle and rested his forehead against yours. "Oftentimes, I think night is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving, and dreaming. Maybe I was always meant to dwell in the night, to plot. At night everything is more intense, more true."

"Enough of your philosophy." You grumbled. "If you wish to scheme and think you can do that with Sherlock." Using your hands in his hair, pulled his face closer to yours, your lips barely brushing. "I think, currently, your mouth could be much better occupied."

He gave you a deep kiss, making you forget how to breathe, then bit your lower lip teasingly. "I never scheme. You must be confusing me for someone else" So saying, he chuckled. "But I must admit, I enjoy seeing you so flustered for me."

Well, two could play that game. When his lips traced a path from your kiss-swollen ones downwards to your neck to shower it with countless marks you'll surely have to cover up tomorrow, you decided to entertain yourself as well. "What if I told you that none of this was accidental?" It was nothing more but a breathless whisper, a silky melody in the darkness of the room. His ministrations didn't stop, but you continued, eager to fluster him at least once, even if it meant sharing your biggest secret— a secret that you had sworn you would take to your grave. "Were you aware that the first night I saw you I decided that nothing was going to prevent me from getting closer to you? You were like a blazing flame and me but a simple moth drawn to your brilliance. So I conspired to get you alone." It was getting harder and harder to form coherent thoughts when his kisses felt so hot, almost burning and branding your skin wherever they landed, but you persevered, tightening your hold on his hair and enjoying his slight shudder. "I... purposely spilled wine on you that night." You swallowed against a sudden lump in your throat. "I knew I had to lay down the groundwork if I wanted to catch your attention, knew I had to set it all up like dominoes." A sudden nibble on the junction of your neck and shoulder made you gasp.

"I was aware."

You were so thoroughly distracted by the feeling of his lips on the skin of your neck that it took a few seconds for his words to register, and when they did your whole body froze. "Wait... You knew?!"

You felt his lips pull into a smirk against your skin and he slowly pulled away, his eyes dancing with barely concealed mirth. "Darling, I knew the entire time."

You were rendered speechless. Shock. Disbelief. The feeling of the world freezing in its tracks. That's all you felt as you stared wide-eyed at the man above you. Your body felt weightless and stone-heavy at the same time. What does he mean: "He knew the entire time?"  Every encounter that you two had raced through your mind as you tried to remember if he ever showed any indication of being aware of your little game. There were none. "You're lying," you stuttered out through your suddenly dry throat.

His smirk was downright devious now. "On the contrary, dear. Not only was I aware of your schemes— I was the one who orchestrated them. From the very start, this has been a chain reaction of countermoves on both sides."

"But then-" Every world felt like sandpaper as you tried to make sense of the situation.

"Steering Sherly in your direction under the guise of talking to some aristocrats the first time I saw you, just so I could be in your field of vision the entire night. Purposely asking around about that painting I knew nothing about to start a conversation with you, then letting you bump into me so you could have an excuse to talk with me in private. Accidental meetings. All actions of a desperate man, who had been completely and utterly enamored ever since he first laid eyes on you." Each sentence was followed up with a kiss— to your neck, to your cheek, to the corner of your lips. One of his hands slowly made its way upwards towards your face from its place around your waist. Still in shock, all you could do was lean into his hand when he gently cupped your jaw. "But it was incredibly enjoyable, this little game of ours. I never believed that there would be someone who would go to such lengths for my affections." His gaze softened and he traced your cheek with his thumb. "My sweet, vicious mastermind."

You felt your chest squeeze under the crushing wave of pure love that washed over you. This man— this brilliant, extraordinary, incredible, magnificent, breathtaking man— he was yours. And he had been from the beginning. Or, more accurately, you'd been his. For you weren't the one who had been setting everything up since your first encounter– you were the one being strung all along. Happy tears prickled at the corners of your vision and you couldn't help but beam up at him. "I guess this is checkmate. It's my loss."

With a matching smile of his own, the hand on your cheek then slowly moved down to your chin, and he pulled you into another kiss. You closed your eyes and melted into it. It was painfully sweet— maybe the sweetest kiss you two have ever shared.

Looks like you were no match for the former Lord of  Crime after all.

[currentlylivingonaprayer]

my favorite sherliam fanfics

In no particular order

doing one of these again, even though literally nobody is asking for them

~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47340676

Garden Of Blood by Kiarrionss and luvviexq

A sherliam hanahaki disease fic, but it's somehow much more painful

Hello Police, Yes, this story right here. *aggressively points at phone* It made me laugh and blush and cry and rethink what love really was and realize that I will never be loved like this in my life. Amazing work. I absolutely loved it. One of my absolute favorites.

~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32692183

floriography by jellyfen

Liam becomes the new target of a serial killer. Sherlock is there to help him find out who the killer is.

What would this list be without this story. Ive read it at least 4 times. It's number one on ao3 for a reason.

~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41868567

mosaic broken hearts (we learn to live with the pain) by iridescentsung

sherliam may or may not have accidentally adopted a child after they started to live in America and finally sorted everything out between them.

Really, really beautiful and I only recommend it.

~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31359539

Laws of Gravity by @glanceart

They survive the fall, battered and on the run. They find themselves at the mercy of a noble whose motives are misled.

I absolutely adore this story. The way both of them are struggling to live on after everything and learning how to deal with the difficulties of living a simple life. It ends on a good note.

~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35645362

Hangman's Dilemma by Averylostcause, Cutie_Pi3

Sherlock catches Liam and puts him behind bars, only to realize how much he hates this and teams up with the Moriarty gang to get him out again. Louis tries to stab him multiple times, for realizing it so late.

I just finished this. It's sooooo sweet. Alternativ titel: sherlock just straight up not having a good time for 48k.

~~

I know, there's still so many more and I will add to this list as it continues, but this is it for now.

I don't know why, but somehow all sherliam fanfic seem to make me rethink what love is. Also, it's not a good sherliam fic, if you don't have a case to solve.

As always: if you know any of these authors here on tumblr, please tell me, so I can link them to this post. Please check out their stories and show them the love they deserve.

Also, if you have and sherliam stories you enjoyed, PLEASE TELL ME.

[getosbf]

MTP Masterlist

Me And My Husband :- [fluff | oneshot | 1691 words] Summary: I like fluff. I like horses. I like sherliam. Not necessarily in that order. (Sherlock tries to court William. He wants to be the Prince Charming for him I am very serious about them. Set in NYC when Liam had the bandage eyepatch.)

Angels like you can't fly down to hell with me :- [angst with happy ending | 7/7 chapters | 19,396 words] Summary: Soulmate AU where you dream of a single moment of your future with your soulmate. As the end of the final problem draws near, William is more and more convinced that his soulmate dream must be false or of a past life, because he can see no possible way he and Sherlock Holmes will have a future of drinking coffee made using a handkerchief for a filter in a cozy apartment with no curtains.

Partners (In Crime) :- [fluff | oneshot | 2315 words] Summary: When William and Sherlock find out a local restaurant has been cheating innocent people out of their money, the former Lord of Crime and Hero of London take it upon themselves to serve justice. But it seems they chose to have quite a bit of fun in the process.

Feverish Fondness :- [fluff | oneshot | 2315 words] Summary: "Even the walk from the kitchen counter to the couch had felt impossible, legs shaking under him as his 'minor' headache turned skull-splitting. Silently, William cursed himself for going out for groceries in the rain the previous day. 'Liam?'" / In which William James Moriarty gets sick and Sherlock Holmes takes care of him.

A Bleeding Nose And A Blessing :- [fluff | oneshot | 1054 words] Summary: Sherlock Holmes comes to Mycroft's office with a gold ring on his finger, and the elder Holmes is smart enough to know what that means. / Sherlock marries William and goes to Mycroft to get his blessing hehe

Cotton Carnage :- [crack | oneshot | 1083 words] Summary: PILLOW FIGHT IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS / Bedding provided for late session became ammunition when Lord Moriarty threw a pillow at his parliamentary boyfriend in the middle of a meeting

Sorry About The Blood In Your Mouth, I Wish It Was Mine :- [songfic | hurt/comfort | oneshot | 1055 words] Summary: Some write about the hero saving the day, some write about the happily ever after, but who writes about the gap between them? Staining your hands with scarlet leaves you ridden with guilt. That's a tale as old as time. And when there's someone to kiss your crimson palms and not worry about the blood in their mouth, it isn't easy letting that happen. After all, it had always been easier for him to hold a sword than a hand.

The Five Times Sherlock Holmes Got Constructive Criticism From A Stranger And The One Time The Stranger Was His Boyfriend :- [crack |6/6 chapters | 5449 words] Summary: Sherlock works at a diner. William loves going to said diner. Problem? William is a little infatuated by the pretty chef and so the pretty chef in question finds anonymous notes every other weekend. Sherlock, too, is more than a bit interested in this secret "Lord Of Cuisine" and makes it his mission to find him.

Until It Killed You :- [wip | reincarnation au | modern au] Summary: "Hear me well and clear: fate does not change for anybody. But you defied me. You tried to die. You tried to die and leave him behind. And now he is dead and you are left behind." In which William James Moriarty defies fate for his ambitions, and pays the price for it by having his life's only love taken away. It's up to fate itself to decide whether he deserves it back or not. Though one thing is for sure: he would have to atone for defying it. But can he? While his lover wanders through the lonely valleys of the afterlife, he is a mere ghost lingering in the night. Both grieving each other as a soul grieves a body. And all they can do is wait.

[manias-wordcount]

Divine (Sherlock Holmes)

Kinktober 2023 Day Twenty-Two: Rough Sex

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

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?

[soulmatesyuumori]

HELP

I don’t understand Albert’s confinement in the tower. 

Was that an official punishment or was it just him asking to be treated like a cursed princess? (and they just gave it to him because that spoiled creature couldn’t be denied anything???)

So, he went like “I did bad things, I deserve to be punished”, and the Queen was like “But you’re too pretty??? hell no??”, because at the end he wasn’t really punished, they just took his lordship or whatever, and he was not really sentenced to that confinement given that he could just walk out of the Tower when he wanted, they just lent him a room for the dramatics WTF 

Like, William went “get out of here, stop being a drama queen” and Albert just “Ok” and went out as if nothing??? Seriously, where is the law  

[angelltheninth]

Even Gentlemen Have Needs

Pairing: James Bonde x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dirty talk, fingering, praise, nipple sucking, horny fantasies, guided masturbation

Word count: 1.2k

Ao3

Kinktober Day 19: Dirty Talk

A/N: James Bonde is my favorite character in Yuumori, writing this was so fun, I'll definitely be writing more content with him sometime. The prompt for kinktober was 'dirty talk' with James Bonde.

Bonde was always an observer. How people react, how they talk, how they behave alone and in public, the secrets they share, the behavior they displayed when they're most vulnerable, he loved seeing all of it.

But no sight ever came close to you on his bed, naked perched up on your knees, with your hand working furiously between your legs.

It wasn't fair, here you were naked in front of him, moaning, face flushed, heart racing so fast that it's gonna beat out of your chest, and he was calmly sitting in his chair, his ankle resting on his knee, still fully dressed in his suit, elbow on the desk, his cheek resting in his hand, and that smug expression on his face as he watched you.

"Why are you slowing down my dear? Have I told you that you can stop?" He voice is calm, but as smooth as silk. Your walls clench and pulse around your fingers. You shake your head and groan low in your that, your lip between your teeth as you sped up. "That's better."

"Bu-But I want-I want you to-" He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing just a little.

"Yes?"

"I want you- your fingers instead." You admit, the admission followed by the bed creaking under your knees as you rode your hand. You've had your fingers inside you many times but it never felt quite like this, never before did you have Bonde looking at you like that, almost like he wanted to eat you, to ruin you for anyone and everyone else.

"Do you? You seem to be doing a fine job yourself. Such pretty, lewd sounds coming from your mouth, from between your thighs. So skilled too, tell me have you spent many nights doing exactly this? Wishing it were me between your legs instead?" You can't help but notice the way his fingers twitched just a little from his own words.

You feel emboldened by the tone of his voice, tempted to spill your secrets. That voice, the way he's looking at you, his cute beauty mark and the teasing, yet soft smile on his lips, those were his true weapons. His ability to charm you so completely, make you do whatever he wished, whenever he wished. And you loved it all, you needed it like you needed air, "Yes." You hiss as you pressed your thumb over your clit, "So many times. I always think about you."

"And what is it that you think about my darling? Perhaps my fingers, knuckle deep inside you, keeping your legs open, my teeth marking that pretty skin and letting everyone know you belong to me."

"You... you pin me down on your desk," You glance to Bonde's side, your legs spreading wider as you recall the fantasy of last night, "You degrade me while you're eating me out. You don't stop, not even when I tell you I can't handle more orgasms. You still make me come, and I have to lay there and take it."

You look up at him, noticing his eyes are closed in bliss. Oh god, he's imagining it, he's thinking about it. Bonde takes a deep breath and uncrosses his legs. When his eyes open again they are a stormy, dark blue.

His stride is purposeful, his hands untying his tie, throwing it onto the floor and untying few buttons as he comes to stand over you, one knee on the edge of the bed. You know you must look really pitiful then, moaning and whimpering just from having him so close. "I'd offer to ruin you but based on what you've told me I'd say you're already there. I could however offer you a helping hand." His soft hands makes it way down between your legs as well, his eyes never leaving yours, although you are having trouble keeping them open now, "Will you let me darling?"

"Yes, god yes!" You feel his fingers slide against yours as you move your hand away, only for the feeling of emptiness to be filled moments after by two of Bonde's own fingers. His hands are just a bit bigger then yours but somehow still softer, despite his spy work, you always liked that about him. "I'd let you do anything, just keep talking to me."

"Talking?" He laughs against your neck, warm breath tickling you on his way to your breasts, "I was planning to do much more than that. But I am flattered you enjoy the sound of my voice so much. Are two fingers enough, do you need another one? Do you want them deeper?" Not waiting for an answer he pushed them in as deep as they could go, curling them forward with every pull, your horny, slick juices flowing down his hand.

"They're perfect, you're prefect." You babble into his hair as your fingers thread through it, keeping his mouth near your breasts.

Bonde doesn't hesitate to suck on them as soon as he's leveled with your nipples, switching from one to the other as soon as he feels them go stiff under his tongue and lips. You can see that he's slowly losing his composure as well, slowly letting his own lust show through the cracks of his perfectly crafted demeanor.

"I'm no where near perfect. That title belongs to you my sweet darling. You've managed to capture me. Me, who lives for the thrill of the chase and disguise, who thrives in it. You said you want to just lay there and take it? Then have it, all of me, all my love for you." The heel of his hand presses against your clit with every word he speaks, eventually pushing you over the edge of your long awaited, needed orgasm. "That's it my darling. Show me, let me see it, let me feel you around me, taking me deep." His voice is barely recognizable now, low and snarling as he fucks your orgasm out of you so hard it triggers another one right after.

He pushes you down onto the bed with force, his fingers still inside you, pumping in and out quickly, staining the bed. His lips crash against yours, swallowing all your sounds, dragging out more and more until you go completely limp, your head and body feeling so light. You're grateful for his extra weight on top of you, his voice whispering, "Easy. You did good. Shh. Relax, I'm here, I always will be." He kisses those affirmations into your skin so you never forget them, even as you begin to drift off into unconsciousness, his fingers still slowly thrusting between your legs, "Don't faint on me now love, you're the one who said she wanted to be ruined. W still have my desk to defile." He laughs against your shoulder.

"Mhm. Desk."

Bonde huffs in amusement, "Perhaps another time then." He keeps kissing you, slowly and gently, making your eyelids feel heavy with exhaustion, "I can wait. I have some ideas of my own that I wish to try." Oh that tone of voice, that seductive tone is sure as hell not gonna help the already way too horny dreams you were about to have because of this love making session.

When you wake up you were gonna have new fantasies to try out for sure.

[moriartyluver]

Hiii can you write William Moriarty x reader when she is dancer for some wealthy man who invited Moriartys for dinner and after dinner reader showed up to dance and she was uncomfortable and Moriartys saw it. So after a few days she came to their place and she wanted to know if they had something with killing her boss(noble guy). And after like 6 months living with them(they asked her to join the group) Y/n confessed her feelings for William after there meeting infront of everyone.(Louis and Bond helped her to confess)

Im hoping that you will write this, have a great day and be safe please

A/N: I’m going to be brutally honest, I’ve never liked the ballerina or dancer trope in moriarty the patriot fics but I will see what I can do dear! I hope you stay safe too and thank you <3

Warnings: abuse, classism, murder & death, just the moriarty brothers being mass murderers NOT PROOF READ!!

Character: William James Moriarty from Moriarty The Patriot x fem! dancer! Reader

Genre: miscellaneous

Prompt: above^^

format: oneshot

“We have a dancer, you know, Count Moriarty.” Your boss said to the oldest moriarty son.

“Is that so? She must be talented to have fit your idealistic expectations,” Albert smiled.

The duke who had hired your a few years before called out your name. When you hadn’t arrived immediately, he called for you again, this time in an angry whisper. You rushed into the room on his command. The three brothers had just finished their expensive meal, something you could only dream of.

When you walked in, the middle brother, William seemed to be staring at you. He was analysing your timid body language and frail form. His scarlet eyes managed to notice the bruises on your arms and upper body that you tried to hide with make up. He deduced that this noble hadn’t been treating you kindly at all. Far from it, actually.

You were nervous and the handsome man looking at you, maybe even judging you, had just made you more frightened. Your arms were folded, unconsciously protecting yourself from the potential danger that was your short tempered boss. He wasn’t beyond telling you off in front of guests and had even thrown a glass at you during a performance after you accidentally stumbled while dancing.

You had grown up in a lower class family. Your father and mother would bring home such a small sum of money to your family, after working in factories every day. The work conditions were awful and you knew that.

Your father wanted to send you off to the factory along with the rest of your siblings once you were of age but your passion was to dance. You wanted to be a dancer and live a life that your parents couldn’t even dream of, so when you were told you could join the circus as a dancer, you leapt at the opportunity, bidding farewell to your angry parents in hope of a new life.

Unfortunately, the conditions in the circus were not ideal. You would wake up everyday, hoping each performance would be your last. You prayed every night for God to kill you or bring you something better. Something that never seemed to arrive.

After only a few years of being in the hell hole you knew as the circus, you were sold to a rich duke who needed some entertainment in his life. The circus manager had given you to him without warning and lied to him, saying you were the most valuable member of the circus troupe, which you had known wasn’t true. You couldn’t even get a single meal daily. Clearly they were just lying to get money out of the noble.

The years of torment didn’t end at the circus gates, but got even worse. Every day, you trained harder and harder, hoping that you could maybe reached the big stage some day, even if it was the smallest of roles. You would keep praying that someone would save you from this nightmare. Anyone.

And they had arrived that dinner while you fumbled about, hoping to make the best performance possible.

The three watched in awe of your skills. You not being a professional seemed like a disservice. Someone with your talent should be treated as such. Still, it was evident you were uncomfortable. You couldn’t maintain eye contact and you seemed so unconfident. It wouldn’t take a genius to realise you were terrified of your boss.

Once they left the dinner, the brother discussed what could be done to eliminate the noble, seeing as they planned on killing him off before the dinner due to other claims of abuse from his servants, so bad that even other cruel nobles began criticising him for it.

You coming to them week later was the final straw.

You managed to sneak out while the duke was gone and found your way over to the Moriarty Manor. It wasn’t difficult to find but your legs were certainly aching by the time you had knocked on their front door. You had heard from your fellow servants of a crime counsellor nearby. Some had even discussed going to him to murder the duke. After a few days of research, you realised where you needed to go.

The door opened to reveal the youngest brother, Louis. He looked at you through his round glasses. What were you here for?

He guided you to the lounge and called for William to come down from his study. Albert was working at the trade company that day so he wasn’t present in the manor at that moment. Once William’s red eyes landed on you, he already knew what you were here for.

“I want you to kill my boss..please.”

You had fantasised about this moment through your time under the dukes authority. You didn’t even need William to plan anything for you. That is how much you thought about it.

“Your wish is our command, Miss (last name)”

You explained all the hardships you had gone through with teary eyes to him and he could only look at you with sympathy. If William could hug you, he would have.

The day of the dukes death came shortly after your encounter. You planned to have him fall down the stairs after tripping on some unseen object. It was a realistic death and was easily passed off as an accident. This happened while William and Albert came to visit the duke during a tea party.

Maybe he didn’t trip on anything though. Maybe William slipped and let his emotions get the best of him, causing him to push the duke down the stairs while they were being taken to the upper floor.

Once the duke had died, you managed to slip away, unnoticed and been taken in by the Lords of crime, who offered you stay in the Moriarty Manor.

Months had passed and you managed to get along with the other members well. Sebastian, who saw you as a younger sister, had taken you under his wing and trained you to become a fine assassin. You were successful countless times and felt yourself heat up each time William praised you for your hard work.

Bonde and Louis had also taken a liking to you. The former saw his old self in you, a girl striving to pursue her passion while Louis was fond of you because you seemed to be the only one who could ever make William take care of himself.

Almost everyone could tell that both you and William had feelings for each other. You could barely look each other in the eye without blushing furiously and getting flustered. That’s why, when you had confided in Louis about your feelings (and Bonde somehow managed to overhear you, then also joining in on the conversation) they had both urged you to confess your feelings to the emotionally constipated man. Even though they could tell he loved you dearly, he didn’t seem to want to tell you his feelings in fear that you may reject him.

6 months after William had decided to take you in, you dragged him to the rose gardens, where you planned to confess to him.

“William, I…I’m going to get straight to the point..” you could feel yourself grow warmer with every word “I’m in love with you and I want you to know that..I always hoped that I’d just be dead..or given something better.. a better life that never seemed to come..but I think now it has, and it’s all thanks to you!”

Cue the soft lips pressed against your cheek.

“I love you too, (name).”

[mybones537]

Working on the Moriarty the patriot X reader fannfic. I hope it turns out okay.

But until that is posted here's a Mycroft Holmes pic

[tulipsforvin]

i hope you're hydrating and getting enough sleep! <3 may i request a letter from william to reader? as in the letter william gave to sherlock before the place where he was supposedly going to take his life? btw, willliam and reader are alovers and have known each other since infancy. thank you!

GAAHHH STOP that's such a sad concept 😭 Thank you for concerning yourself about me, I'm in perfect health. I hope you're getting just as enough sleep and hydrating as well.

TRIGGER WARNING(s) ⚠️: Mentions of death and suicide.

“Final Act of Love„

William J. Moriarty x GenderNeutral!Reader

“Ah...” He mumbles softly when his eyes are blurred yet again with tears. He was not one to cry, thus the foreign wetness of his cheeks was something he found rather strange.

His hands tremble as he looks down at the now-tear-stained parchment, another failed attempt. He sighed wearily, how could he ever expect that a mere piece of paper could hold his ever-so-swelling love for them when his heart burst like a damn with affection everytime (Name) looked at him?

He obviously couldn't let this letter be given to you. No, it had to be perfect. It had to. It must. It should. How else could he part from you? From this world? He needed to give you something — some consolation and he figured that a letter would do because he was certainly aware that facing you now, of all times, during his weakest of moments, would make him crumble.

He didn't want to let go of his lifelong ambitions but he didn't want to let go of you, either. And so, he decided to hand you over the very last proof of love he could give you; a letter. Should you decide to discard it, he would not mind it for it would mean that you would have moved on. But for now, but for now. . . He wanted you to have it - for you to store it away in a drawer or under your pillow, for you to open it and read through it everytime you felt unsure of yourself since he would no longer be there, there to comfort you.

There to love you.

William sits in his study; upper body hunched over an intricately carved mahogany desk. Soft candlelight flickers, casting a warm glow on gilded frames of landscapes and frames.

William sighs in frustration, crumpling yet another ball of paper and tosses it aside; resting atop a pile of other crumpled efforts to write his final letter of love towards (Name).

“Can these feeble words truly carry the weight of my love?” He murmurs thoughtfully - expression one of yearning.

“This feeling is so heavy, but I must give them voice, for they're all I have.” His grip tightens around the quill as he takes in a deep breath, pulling out another parchment under him before the quill begins to glide over the paper for the final time:

“Dearest, (Name)

To you, love, I write my last physical proof of my love for you. I must apologise to you, first and foremost - Forgive me, my darling, for being weak. However I can no longer bear my inadequacies and the burdens of the sins I have commited are things that I can no longer shoulder. Thus, I ask for your forgiveness yet again.

With this letter, I release you from the chains of my love. With this letter I pray that you heal from this — from me. With this letter, my beloved; I pray that you find solace in the loving, safe arms of another's, both attributes that I failed to provide to you.

I remember you recalling quotes for me in my need from bygone days of bygone books and I realize that this is love, that this was our love. You are your own form of beauty, remember that. You are strong and you are ambitious. I have seen you for the real you. I saw you. I see you and I will continue to do so even as my existence erases itself from this mortal plane.

Please remember that my decision to depart from this world is not a reflection of your worth our or love. It is an act of desperate surrender to the overwhelming darkness that engulfs me, a futile attempt to shield you from the pain that my presence inevitably inflicts.

In the depths of my despair, I have come to realize that my presence only serves as a reminder of the pain and sorrow that lingers within me, like a poisoned wellspring. I am haunted by the knowledge that your smile, the very essence of my existence, will grace another's life while I fade into oblivion.

May time find it upon your heart to move forward, to let the wounds that my absence will inflict upon heart heal with it. Embrace the possibility of a love that far surpasses the limitations of my flawed existence.

As I now step into this lonely abyss, know that you have forever changed me. Your love had etched itself onto my very soul, an indelible symbol of beauty amidst the chaos. And if the winds of fate should ever bring us together again, know that I will cherish the opportunity to see you happy, even if it is not at my side.

I bid you farewell, heart of mine, with a soul that bleeds for the love we could have shared. It is time for me to rest for I am too exhausted from my grief. Please don't hold it against me.

May the rays of light tomorrow guide you to a future where happiness and love. You are beautiful, and always have been. Never doubt yourself on this.

Finally, may the threads of my memory weave themselves into a story of resilience and hope. I shall be waiting for you at the other side, my darling.

I love you, dearest. You have been mine since birth. Goodbye.

Yours eternally and inconsolably, William James Moriarty. „

The nib of the quill breaks and so does William. He breaks out into a soft sob, continuous tears streaming down his pale face as his hands tremble with the wax impression, sealing the letter.

His fingers travel over to the photo frame he has of the two of you on his desk, grasping it and bringing it close to his heart with two of his hands; holding it close to his chest as he sheds his ending tear.