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#Moriarty x reader
kanroji-san · 4 months
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This is most popular scene
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But with Y/n
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:) Happy New Year Everyone!!!
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manias-wordcount · 7 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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fairy-writes · 10 months
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Hello dear! How are you? I hope you are doing great💕
I'd like to request an oneshot with William J. Moriarty, where he has just returned from a mission with minor injuries on his back and his wife (preferably feminine, but if you're uncomfortable gender neutral is fine!) takes care of him. There she sees the scars from when his foster mother would punish him so she caresses and kisses his back😌.
With prompt 7
I really hope this is not confusing and thank you very much in advance. 😘😘
KNOW WHEN IT’S ENOUGH
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Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!
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Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot
Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader
Prompt: “Enough is enough, and your best is good enough.” (Dialogue Prompt #7)
Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader
Notes: I’m weak for people calling their significant other “love.”
Vague references to the Hounds of the Baskervilles chapter(s) of the manga!
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It’s late when William gets home. 
You wake to the sound of the bedroom door opening and see him in the light of the dying fireplace. Your husband is haggard, covered in dirt, and looks like he’s two seconds away from passing out. 
You’re out of bed in an instant, gently working his long black coat from his shoulders and guiding him toward the shared bathroom in your chambers. 
“I’m fine, love. Really, it’s merely a few scratches.” He says, and you hush him as you turn on the oil lamps and flit about the bathroom like a busy bee. You gather bandages and ointment from under the sink and draw a bath. Setting your supplies on the counter, you turn to face your husband. 
William is leaning tiredly against the doorframe, watching with something akin to amusement at your fretting. 
“I promise you, I’m alright.” He says, and you shake your head, approaching him and dusting some dirt off of his cheek. 
“I want to make sure, William. Please?” You whisper, and he sighs, cupping your hand and keeping it there. He leans into your touch and offers a small smile.
“When can I ever say no to you?” He whispers, and you grin brightly. 
You turn away to give William some privacy as he sheds the rest of his clothes. You’ve already seen all of him. As he’s seen all of you. But it still seemed appropriate. 
The splash of water alerts you, and you turn to see William sinking into the bath, eyes closed and looking utterly at peace. You fold his clothes and set them aside as he starts to relax. His arms hand out of the tub, and as you drag a stool to sit behind him, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even move as you lather some soap in your hands and scrub it deep into his hair, getting all the dirt and smoke out from the golden strands. 
Once done scrubbing his hair, you take a cup that was beside the tub and fill it with water to gently rinse the grime from your husband’s hair. 
“What was the mission about this time?” You ask softly, and his eyelashes flutter but don’t open, as if you had woken him from sleep.
“Some nobles had been kidnapping children and hunting them for sport. Fred was worried, so we went and took them down. The children were rescued.” He says simply, and you hum.
“What about the nobles?” You can’t help but ask, and he finally tilts his head back and opens his eyes to look at you. 
They’re tired and dark.
As if he had done something terrible.
He likely had.
You weren’t a fool. You weren’t necessarily privy to William’s methods, but you were well aware of the lengths he would go to achieve his goals. 
“They got what they deserved.” Is all he says, and closes his eyes again as you comb the wet hair from his eyes. You nod once,
“I’m glad.” You reply. The two of you sit in silence as you gently wash the dirt from William’s shoulders. 
Then you noticed the faint red color coming from his back, leaking into the water and turning it pink.  With a frown, you gently push William forward from where he was relaxing to get a good look at his back. He moved without a fight.
William wasn’t necessarily well-built or massive like Moran. He was lithe and lean, built almost like a dancer rather than a fighter. 
He was also covered in scars. Old and new. Some were from past missions. Others were not. 
Though William wasn’t one to talk about his past, you had gathered enough in passing conversation to know that Albert’s family wasn’t the kindest to him and Louis. You knew the both of them were adopted from an orphanage as a charity case rather than out of the goodness of the Moriarty family’s hearts. You knew their birth son, whose name your husband had taken, was especially cruel to the boys. And you knew that the mother was quick to physical violence. 
But to this extent?
You traced what looked like an old scar of a belt buckle, and it was then that William realized just what was going on. He sat up quickly, turning to say something but stopped when he saw the look on your face. 
It was then that you realized you were crying. 
Tears streaked your cheeks, and you wiped them with soapy fingers, careful not to get the suds in your eyes. Droplets of water dotted your nightgown, but you paid them no mind. He turned so he was facing you in the tub and reached with a wet hand to cup your cheek.
“Why do you cry, my love?” He asked, and you gave a rather sad, watery sort of smile.
“Because you’re always doing so much with no regard for yourself. You took all that witch’s punishments without complaint, without so much as a word against her.” You whispered, and his eyes turned so unimaginably sad.
“I have to. I have to try my best to help others.” He replied, and you shook your head, leaning to press a kiss to his shoulder.
“Enough is enough, and your best is good enough. You can’t work yourself to death. I won’t stand for it.” You say, and he doesn’t say anything else.
So, once he’s clean, you fetch his robe, a towel, and a fresh change of night clothes. You wait until he’s clothed from the waist down before dressing the injuries on his back. They’re minor in severity and won’t need stitches, but you clean and bandage them nonetheless.
All the while, William doesn’t say a word.
Until you’re nearly finished, that is. 
As you’re wrapping the last of the gauze around the worst of the largest injury, he speaks. 
“Thank you.” He says quietly, and you smile, although he can’t see it. You lean and press a gentle kiss to his back, right over his heart.
“It’s not a problem. I love you.” You reply, and he hums.
“I love you too.”
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What would each of the yanderes morairty reaction to reader being pregnant?
Ok U didin't give characters so I just write this for William
Yandere William James Moriarty
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William would be pleased…
very pleased
It goes without saying that handsome brain rat would have planned this.
This would happen quickly after the wedding.
And William noticed the changes in your behavior very quickly.
He will also notice changes in your eating.
And the fact that you've suddenly started to feel bad in the mornings.
He would have been watching you.
Although he seems busy.
William would definitely use this to keep you with him.
He would also tell your family the good news.
This would definitely be an attempt to pressure you even more.
To pressure you to stay with him.
Forever.
William would become more overprotective during your pregnancy.
You would only get out with him.
Besides that, he would try to arrange that almost someone would always be with you.
Escape would be impossible.
William hopes this will help you fall in love with him.
This would also give him "extra motivation" in his task
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pfpanimes · 5 months
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⌕ yuukoku no moriarty • william j. moriarty.
like or reblog if you save/use.
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Imagine trying to warn Sherlock that Moriarty is free…
The verdict was in - not guilty. You honestly wanted to shake the jury by their shoulders and ask why they had left their rational thoughts at home. The judge slammed the gavel, signalling for Moriarty to be free of his bonds and when you looked at the man, you could have sworn that he winked.
John nudged your arm, reminding you that it was time to follow the rest of the courtroom out. Once the pair of you were out on the street in much cleaner air, John pulled out his phone and began punching in a number.
“I’m calling Sherlock. He needs to know that this maniac is going to be walking about like a free man.”
Giving him a nod, you pulled out your own device. “I’m going to head back to Scotland Yard.”
John instantly pulled his phone away from his ear as it started to ring.
“What? Y/n we need to stay together.”
“I know but I need to set up a protective detail on Sherlock and Baker Street. Moriarty doesn’t care about collateral damage.” You reminded the good doctor.
Pointing at you, John’s expression was stern and serious. “Okay but be careful. I’ll see you back at the apartment.”
You gave the man a brief hug before turning and bolting down the street to hail a cab. Thankfully, the area was crawling with the vehicle you required. Once you had hopped in, you dialled Lestrade’s personal number and hoped with each ring that he wasn’t otherwise engaged. Your heart was pounding in your ears, the traffic felt slower than normal and the phone wasn’t being picked up as if the matter wasn’t of import.
“Come on.” You edged nervously, staring outside at the pedestrians huddled on the sidewalk.
When the signal turned green, the call was answered by the man you had been trying to reach. “Greg? Oh, thank god.”
“Y/n, I just heard the news. How are you holding up?” The detective inspector asked.
“Honestly I’m pissed but we can get into that later. Listen, I need a favour. I need a-“
“You need a protection detail on Sherlock, I know.” Lestrade guessed correctly. “I filed in the paperwork as soon as Moriarty’s trial started and got it fast tracked. It felt appropriate since you, Sherlock and John have thwart his schemes the most.”
You frowned. Something didn’t feel right about the way he was talking about the detail. “And?” You prompted.
“And it got rejected as soon as Moriarty was acquitted.”
You were mad and disappointed - in all honesty, you wanted to scream. But you pushed it all down and did what you could to tackle the problem. Leaning forward, you tapped the driver on the glass to get his attention.
“Yes, dear?” The elderly man smiled.
“Change of plans - take me to 221B Baker Street please.”
“Y/n, what are you doing?” Shit, you almost forgot Lestrade was on the phone.
As the car turned left onto Baker Street, you kept a tight grip on the device. “If Scotland Yard won’t help, I’ll do it myself.” You told your friend before hanging up just as the taxi pulled up to the curb.
Paying for the ride, you made a mad dash to the front door, pushing it open to get inside. It was mostly quiet. Mrs Hudson was running the cafe and it was clear that John wasn’t home from the lack of his coat from the hallway rack.
There was an absence of people and yet you heard teacups being set upon saucers and very low voices speaking. Heart leaping into your throat, you raced up the stairs and burst into the open flat of 221B.
“Sherlock-”
The rest of your sentence died on your tongue, ice running through your veins when you saw the man who had almost killed you and your friends without any remorse standing in the living room.
“Hi Y/n.” Moriarty greet when his eyes laid on you. “I take it that your little bid for a protection detail fell flat?”
He knew and he was mocking you for it. Stepping into the flat, you scowled at the enemy. “I’ve kept my friends safe from you before. I can do it again.”
Moriarty smirked. He moved away from Sherlock and across to you on his way to the door. His eyes skimmed over your features before he inhaled.
“You’re just delectable. Ready to give your life for a man who isn’t ready to return the favour. A pity really.” He commented and walked off.
~ More imagines here ~
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leblancdamoiselle · 2 years
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Heyy I would love to see reactions from Albert, Moran, Louis and Jack if they accidentally went into William’s and readers room while they were making out
Fandom:Moriarty the Patriot
Thank you<3
✮𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭✮
Albert
Man's speechless. (His face expression would be like this: 😮 and then it turns to this: 🙂)
*clears throat*
*pretends not to see*
He would be professional about it tho,
It's just that he can never imagine William doing it
Literally this emoji:🧍‍♂️
After telling William what he got to say, he would go out and say "Please continue"
The following day you find a letter on your desk, it's from Albert and the letter says;
Hello (Y/n), I deeply apologize for interrupting your business yesterday. I will allow you to marry William and I promise I won't tell a single soul.
You told William about the letter and he bursts out laughing
LITERALLY PEAK COMEDY
Moran
Super chill about it
"Why'd you stop? I'm just dropping this this off"
Didn't close the door afterwards
Yet, he would tease YOU for weeks but not William
I mean we all agree that he understands it more than anyone else in the household, no?
"Do my chores and I won't tell Louis and Albert, deal?"
Louis
He's like: 😰
He shuts the door back after seeing you and William in that state
Louis thought he's ready for this but actually he's a boiled shrimp; all red
William had to assure Louis that it's okay come in from inside (because he's still there, on the other side of the door lmao)
"No it's okay, brother, I will come back another time"
It's keeping him up at night
Avoids you for a week because he thought you might despise him
"Louis are you avoiding me?"
"No I would never," he lied
"Louis," you paused, "You are."
"I'm sorry, didn't mean to walk in on you and William,"
"Oh my God, Louis, it's already been a week,"
"I know."
William ended up giving him a talk to make sure his psychological condition is okay
Jack
Ganpa Jack is sooooooooo polite
"I apologize for my rudeness,"
Closed the door back right after
His perspective of William changed (lol)
It's like seeing his own son grow up
Like, literally a father figure
He became more 'caring' than he usually is to you
*educates William about adulthood and William appreciates it even though he knew William probably already know*
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shuichiakainx · 23 days
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they put Sherlock BBC on Netflix and guess who's watching it again 🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️
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lacelynpage · 10 months
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You fall asleep in an odd spot ~ Sherlock Preferences
A/N: HELLO DARLINGS!!!! I’m SO sorry its been so long. Life got really chaotic but I trying to find time to writ more. I have missed you all sooo much. I hope you enjoy what I cooked up for today. See you all again soon hopefully lol.
Sherlock: 
Being with Sherlock involves a lot of late nights. When you're on a case the two of you can easily stay out till the sun starts to spill over the horizon. Exhaustion is your nearly constant companion. So it is not uncommon for you to fall asleep on the cab ride back to Bakers street. After your head is resting comfortably on his shoulder he will gently intertwine your fingers. Running his thumbs over your knuckles soothingly. It is one of the few truly tender things he does, and it means the world to you.
John:
Sleep isn't always your best friend. Most nights your body would, rather cruelly, keep you awake. Force you to think about your whole life till you spiraled into anxiety. John understood that struggle and would often stay up with you, making tea and sitting with you. It led to some of the deepest and more honest conversations. However, your bodies were still both achingly tired in the morning. So when John came to pick you up on your lunch break for a date one day after a particularly long night. He wasn't surprised to find you sound asleep on your desk. With a gentle touch he woke you up, telling your coworkers you weren't feeling well. The two of you spent the rest of the day together, cuddled up and fast asleep.
Mycroft:
Late hours were the norm in your house. Both of you commonly work odd schedules as contacts from around the world update you on various projects. On a bright Sunday morning Mycroft awoke to find you missing from the bed. Assuming you had simply gone to bed later and woken up early he walked down to the kitchen. The sight that greeted him was odd but not unfamiliar. You sat at the small breakfast table in the corner, head resting on the keyboard of your laptop. A few papers and a now very cold cup of coffee to your right. Gently, he woke you and ushered you into bed, calling Athena to cancel all morning meetings. The two of you needed some recovery time.
Greg:
It was cute really, well Greg thought it was cute at least, that you could never make it through a movie in the cinema. No matter how much you wanted to see the movie, every time you would drift off. Popcorn left to get cold in your lap as your head lulled back. While the end credits rolled he would nudge you awake with the most childish grin on his face, making you groan in frustration. He would always give you a summary on the car ride home, which you appreciated. 
Moriarty:
You were not one to let your guard down easily, Jim knew that. No matter how tired you were, sleeping in public wasn't an option. However, there was one exception, the plane to Dublin. Something about flying home relaxed you, made the worries and enemies slip from your mind. Softly you rest your head on Jim's shoulder and let sleep overtake you. He would work quietly, kissing your head whenever you stirred slightly to adjust. These plane rides were often the quietest moments in your life together, you both treasured them.
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iam-justhere · 1 month
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Yup I did it I used drawing pens (and black and red color pencils but we don’t talk about that) I forgot how fun using drawing pens were to use. Anyway hope you guys like it drink some water, eat something and take care of yourself. If you have any drawing recommendations I’ll be more than happy to do it as long as it’s not NSFW :P
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kanroji-san · 4 months
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Y/n: don't kill me, I have a husband! Random Aristocrat: I don't care! Y/n: you don't understand, I'm not begging for mercy or anything like that. This is a warning. Louis: *suddenly bursts in* YOU'RE READY TO DIE!
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thot-writes · 2 years
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i’ve been watching moriarty the patriot (finally) and first of all eat the rich and second of all i love william. here’s something for my williamheads out there
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william james moriarty is sexually attracted to idiots (and you’re the idiot);
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at first glance, no one knows how the fuck a refined genius like William and a single-digit IQ buffoon manage to work
you’re vastly different people, after all. while William has enough brainpower to run all of England you have enough brawn to break it down by hand
you’re abnormally strong for your build, you always have been, and you tend to stray away from the law which is what attracted William’s interest in the first place
you became the brute force that would come in and fuck shit up whenever shit required fucking up, and you were more deadly barehanded than most people are equipped, so you became a “personal bodyguard” of sorts.
but holy shit were you dumb.
part of you hated being around william so much, because he’d say things and then someone else would reply with different things and you were always just completely lost
what’s going on? who does this dude want revenge on? how is will gonna get everyone out? who is this guy? how’d he find us? wait, did he find us or did we find him? i need a nap.
once you accompanied william on a train with a murder onboard. also onboard was william’s rival (another man who thought so hard it made your head hurt). and by the end of it you were still confused
“There’s just one thing I don’t understand…” you said, though it was a blatant lie, there were many things you didn’t understand. “Who was the killer?”
you remember the blank-faced stare from will and louis. those judgemental red eyes continue to bore into your soul.
but william found himself distressingly attracted to you anyway. he didn’t know why, but every time you opened your mouth and something stupid came out he was overcome with an urge to rip his suit in twain.
as you got to know each other better, he found himself seeking your presence whenever he could. you had a lot of stories about your life before you met him, and your comedic timing was impeccable. you seemed to be the only person who could make him laugh — genuinely, that is, not the “weird evil one” you always say he does.
before long you were paramours. there was no official conversation, there didn’t need to be, it was just where your relationship went naturally.
you’d spend as much time together as possible, and you came to notice that whenever you said one of your trademark idiot things that william would fix you with a hungry gaze. it wasn’t perceptible to the average person, but you’d known him so well at that point you could easily tell.
occasionally, whenever privacy permitted, he’d all but jump you once you were alone.
between his fervent kisses you’d ask, “Not that I’m against this—“ he steals your lips again, “but why’re you so excited all of a sudden?”
he pulls away and caresses your cheek, his eyes a mix of lust and adoration. “Darling, would you really prefer to talk when you could just take me?”
that never failed to get you going, which is why he’d say it. he wasn’t really looking forward to confronting that he got insta-hard whenever you acted stupid.
the only time he can hold himself back (other than being in public, that is) is when you’re injured or otherwise unwell. he gets so beside himself with worry that his persona cracks — just a little, but enough to be noticed by his brothers, and certainly more than anyone else can manage.
you stepped into the office one evening with blood pooling into the fabric of your shirt. Louis speaks up first, “You’ve been injured!” he all but yells as he rushes to grab a first aid kit.
you didn’t even seem to notice. you look down and jab at the wound. “Oh yeah, I did get lightly stabbed.”
Moran barks out, “You got stabbed?!”
“Lightly,” you correct him. “That guy William had me nab had a friend with him. I tried to grab him too but I uh… killed him. I didn’t try to snap his neck it just happened. Sorry, boss,” you say, nodding apologetically in William’s direction.
there’s very little to betray his emotions, but as soon as he saw your injury he bit the inside of his cheek. he shakes his head, his smile transfixed but now slightly strained. “Not at all. You did well. Once you get that wound treated you should get some rest, I’ll come see you soon.”
he doesn’t leave your side that night. you insist it’s not a big deal but he can’t bring himself to leave.
part of william hates that he puts you in danger regularly. the logical part knows that you’re near-superhuman with your uncanny strength and constitution, but the emotional part, the part that loves you so dearly it gets anxious when you’re not near, berates him for risking it anyway.
despite you being the one who’s injured, you hold will close and assure him that you’re not going anywhere. “I’d drag my sorry ass up from Hell to come back to you, Will,” you tell him. and you mean it. there’s scarce a force in this world or the next that could stop you.
he smiles a little and relaxes in your arms, inhaling your scent and tracing a finger along your muscles. “I know, my love.”
at first glance, no one knows how the fuck a refined genius like William and a single-digit IQ buffoon manage to work.
at a deeper inspection, it becomes apparent that there’s no one else in the world better suited for each other than you two.
1K notes · View notes
fairy-writes · 3 months
Note
Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭
A BUSINESS PROPOSAL
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Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!
__________________________________________________________________________
Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot
Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader
Word Count: 3k
Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.
Notes: So this was super fun to write! 
Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college! 
I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)
PART TWO HERE
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Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.
“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over. 
But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?
No… He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home. 
A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door. 
The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets. 
A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.
“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down. 
“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully. 
“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.
“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs. 
You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt. 
“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down. 
“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,
“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat. 
He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.
Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs. 
“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you. 
You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools. 
“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.
“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before. 
Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement. 
“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles. 
“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!
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That was how you got to where you were at the current moment. 
You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.
“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it. 
“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine. 
“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval. 
At least someone shared your sentiment. 
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You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door. 
The letter was short. 
Dearest sister, 
I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures. 
With best regards, 
Mycroft Holmes
A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman. 
This was going to be fun.
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As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.
“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease. 
The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room. 
Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.
“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food. 
It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be. 
“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.
“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. 
At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt. 
You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two. 
“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.
“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep. 
Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you. 
“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours. 
So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?
“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in. 
He scowls, 
“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.
“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”
“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares. 
“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger. 
This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you. 
“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.” 
You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue. 
“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders. 
“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee. 
Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled. 
Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body. 
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Taking away your funding? 
No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig! 
Much less one as young as yourself! 
You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!
Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care. 
A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens. 
“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize. 
“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand. 
“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it. 
It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again. 
The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms. 
“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite. 
The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.
How could they? 
Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!
It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs? 
William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat. 
“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.
“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,
“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.
It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside. 
“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems. 
Sherlock trusted him well enough… 
Perhaps…
“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup. 
“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.
“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over. 
“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other. 
“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.
“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control. 
“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs, 
“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned. 
“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods. 
“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”
You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…
You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,
“I accept your proposal.”
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hi!! can u pls write a yandere liam j moriarty x reader where like the reader spends like a lot of time w/ james or moran or sum?? :3
Yandere William James Moriarty
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It would all start with boredom.
You and William had just gotten married.
Even if you don't really want it.
And this would really limit your life.
Because William wouldn't want to let you out of the mansion.
The world is a dirty place…
Way too dirty.
And you're way too pure.
But William would also be really busy.
He simply wouldn't have enough time for you.
And he would be very sorry for this.
It doesn't bother you much.
Instead, you spend your time exploring the mansion.
Looking for an escape route.
As well as spending time with other people in the manor.
You especially get along well with James and Moran.
You would spend a lot of time together.
William would notice that.
At first, he would be happy for you to adapt to the life of the manor.
This never really bothers him too much.
But sometimes…
If he had made time for you but you would rather spend it with others.
He would have to admit to feeling a little jealous.
However, William would try to understand you.
And stay sane.
But if the situation requires it, he is ready to remind you who you married ;)
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cielshottea · 23 days
Text
Inspired by „I wanna be yours” by Arctic Monkeys
I wanna be yours…
It’s a heavy, spring rain. You two are in your bed, cuddling together. You’re holding your hand with his. That’s only one thing you need to be happy.
I wanna be yours…
It’s a nice, warm day, and you two are in the middle of the forest, holding your hands together and enjoying the sound of silence and nature.
I wanna be yours…
It’s the evening. You two are in your bed. You feel safe in his arms. So calm in his arms. So important in his arms.
I wanna be yours…
You’ve already ended your lessons in school. The sun is setting. People are quickly going home, the sound of people’s laughs and talks is more quiet with every second. He comes to you starts holding your hand. His other hand is on your cheek, caressing it gently.
”I wanna be yours…
I just wanna be yours”
Ranpo, Fyodor, Chuuya, Dazai, Sigma, Oda(bsd)
William James Moriarty, Luis James Moriarty, Sherlock (moriarty the patriot)
~author’s note: ehh, i want it to be true❤️‍🩹😓
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rosesrflo · 1 year
Note
Hi! Sorry for bothering you, I'm new to your account and I don't know if your requests are open. But if they are, can I request Sebastian, William, Sherlock and Louis seeing y/n in lingerie and how would they react? Thank you so much! Have a nice day and take care!!
. 。゚゚・。・゚゚。
 ゚。 L 。゚
  ゚・。・゚
。゚゚・。・゚゚。 ゚。 O 。゚
 ゚・。・゚
 。゚゚・。・゚゚。
 ゚。 V 。゚
  ゚・。・゚
。゚゚・。・゚゚。 ゚。 E 。゚
 ゚・。・゚
/\__/\
(=•ㅅ•=)
(つ♡⊂)∫
U--U
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Feats; Sebastian, William, Sherlock, Louis (MTP). Genre; NSFW
Prompt; ❛❛Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.❞ Warnings; a bit handsy but not smut, painfully long, fem!reader/AFAB
Desc; IN WHICH you showcase some interesting outfits for your partner, if only you knew what you do to them. Don’t worry, they’ll let you know with some intimate explanations.
A/N; Of course, lovely! I enjoyed writing this but a few scenarios are rlly long, and I apologise if some characters are a bit ooc (sorry if it’s too/too less smutty), have a good day/night and enjoy! <3
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SEBASTIAN;
This man is thirsty asf
What can he say? Force of habit.
What can he say? Force of habit.
If this is what he’s like on a normal basis, you can imagine what he’s like when things get hot, he cannot believe that you think you can wear an alluring lingerie without him at least touching you.
But he must say, black looks good on you.
So much that Sebastian pounces the moment he lays eyes on your figure, his hands hooked underneath your exposed thighs, lifting you against the nearest wall with a smirk etched upon his face as he presses surprisingly soft kisses against your neck.
You’ve dug a hole for yourself, you’re definitely not getting out of this one and the next few hours will be rough.
A muffled squeal fell from your captured lips, Moran’s hands travelled over your body, the fat of your thighs spilled from his tight grip that held you upright, “Well aren’t you a pretty thing?” His eyes hungrily scanned your expression.
“And all for me..” The skimpy fabric hugged your physique in a way that he didn’t dare look away, you looked down at him through lidded lashes, if you knew this was how he’d react, you would have worn lingerie earlier.
Sebastian lowered you onto the floor although his hands didn’t leave you once and continued his onslaught of hickeys to your bared neck. A heated blush crawled onto your cheeks at the sensation, “Not here-! Someone might see us.”
Your request was blatantly tossed aside as he only pressed on, hands trailing from your thighs to more sensitive parts, “Big talk for someone walking around in that.” He pulled away proudly to observe the darkening marks on your neck; ever shameless, Moran doesn’t give a damn whether anyone catches sight.
Not when you’re all dolled up just for him, in fact, he dares them to look at you.
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WILLIAM;
How can he resist you?
Revealing, red silk cupped your features perfectly, it was clear as day that you had no idea what filthy thoughts were racing through William’s head at the moment.
Even though his face doesn’t break its charming facade, his heart beats a little faster than usual, and is that a tint of red on his ears?
Your little showcase was slowly yet effectively testing his patience.
Liam isn’t usually a sexually frustrated person, well that was until you dragged him into your shared bed chambers to rate a few rather seductive outfits.
His crimson irises rake up and down you, admiring how irresistible you appeared, every model pose sent his mind into a blurred frenzy - the feeling of your hands balancing on his shoulders as you leaned in to ask him for his thoughts.
Your body barely grazed his and if you lent in just a little further you’d be touching him, just a little closer and he would..-
The ornamented cup of tea clinked throughout the quiet room as Liam lifted it from its porcelain plate to his parted lips. But of course this all served as a minor distraction, the main focus was you, his gaze was half hazed as the straps slid over your bare body.
He wished to rip it off of you in the very moment.
After an anticipated pause, you shyly stepped forwards, hands cusped behind your back, “What about this one..? I like the coverage but it isn’t red..” Mindless mutters cut him off before he could reply.
“You look ravishing, either way.” You blinked at his double meaning compliment, a sweet smile formed on your lips in thanks. William on the other hand was undressing you imaginatively, you were so pure.
Turning away from him, you loosened the straps holding your outfit together, hues of blush heated your cheeks as you tried to undo the bra straps but ultimately failed, “Ah-Liam could you help me with..-“ Gesturing to your situation.
Liam’s beverage had long since gone cold, placing it onto the plate, he watched you nervously saunter towards him. Your hands clasped onto his shoulders for balance whilst he skillfully unclasped your bra straps, he had done this too many times to count. He swallowed audibly.
The lingerie was only just covering you, unconsciously, he held the small of your back and lightly urged you onto his lap; you gasped as he slid the clothing off of your shoulders, his eyes wandered to your exposed assets.
“May I kiss you, darling?” William’s tone was laced with lust as you steadied yourself.
What came after was certainly more than just a kiss.
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SHERLOCK;
It was a stuffy night.
and It wasn’t exactly your intention to dress up for Sherlock, it was just so unbearably warm that you simply couldn’t wear anything else.
Unbeknownst to you, the minute he sees you in such revealing clothing, you’ll be even more hot and stuffed; except this time with his cock.
It was late into the night when Sherly received a bit of a gift as he finally retired to his room. You were a sight to behold say the least - all curled up in his bedroom, dark blue fabric danced hazardously across your body.
Unlike the others, Sherlock doesn’t immediately jump to sexual conclusions, no, he admired you. How lucky was he for catching a divine being like you?
He watched your sleeping figure for a few minutes, his eyes glinted with nothing short of admiration, you were absolutely heavenly, especially in that.
Admirations soon faded into lust.
A huff escaped Sherlock as he quickened his pace towards 221B, the sky was midnight blue and the finished cigarette in his hand didn’t ease any thoughts about you. His breathe hitched upon pacing inside the silent flat, everyone was asleep.
Wasting no more time idly standing around, Sherlock started his way to your shared room; the room air was humid, the largest window was far open and you were snoozing as peaceful as ever.
However, his eyes seemed to linger on your sleeping form, but it wasn’t a surprise - your body seemed almost nude if not for the lingerie, bed covers were strewn everywhere except you and the pale moonlight shon down onto your (s/c) skin.
You tossed in your sleep, sensing another person in the room. Sherly knelt by the bed before gently cupping your face, “Now what do we have here, (n/n)?” The familiar scent of cigars and faint cologne, accompanied with his cockney accent woke you from your slumber.
Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you blinked at Sherlock’s smirking face, “You’re back, Sherly.” He drew a figurative line with his index finger from your neck, between your breasts, “I’m back.”
“What are you wearing at this hour?” You averted your eyes at the query, “Not that I mind.” He lent in to press a kiss to your neck, despite his vague actions - it was quite obvious to you what would occur next.
“Please be gentle, Sherly, ‘m tired.”
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LOUIS (SMUT WARNING);
Contrasting this man’s modest appearance, he’s probably the most sexually active excluding Moran.
Not on his own account but because he just can’t keep his hands off of you.
Have you seen yourself? He tries not to think about your body but it affirmatively fails every time you show him one of your revealing outfits.
It makes his mind go brrr, the way it cups your breasts, your thigh high socks don’t help your alibi either, by the time he’s finished with you - you’ll be a mewling mess, bite marks littering your inner thighs.
Yes he’s a biter.
But don’t worry, Louis is an absolute gentleman and awfully good at it, he’ll have you screaming in no time flat.
All that can be said is, good luck.
“I advise you to be quiet, my lady.”
A silent gasp escaped your plush lips as your head fell into the fluffy pillows, Louis’ hands pinned your legs in the air to ensure you didn’t move whilst he worked on your pretty cunt.
Lace, blue garments were pushed aside your left lip, he wanted to devour you in such an outfit that captured your complete charm. Mewls vibrated in your throat, his tongue flickered kitten laps against sensitive nerve bundles.
Despite the situation at hand, a polite smile eased his features once his teeth catch your little bud and you looked just about to pass out, all fucked out. Using one hand to spread your sopping pussy, he pressed two digits into your entrance and he almost came on the spot from how tight you were clenching.
Pushing them in a few more times, you cried out his name as your back near arches off of the bed, “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” Louis leaned in to taste more of your essence, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his lips suckle your swollen clit.
Your legs kick upwards the closer you came to the edge of release, and it wasn’t until then does he realise how hard you were cumming, “Looking so lovely…dressed up in such obscene attire..”
He pulls away breathlessly after you slowly came down from the mind blowing high, your eyes squeezed shut and body trembling. Louis gazed down at the art piece he dubbed you, lightly pecking your forehead, how sinfully gorgeous..
“As you were, my lady.”
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