#and mild-to-moderate snogging

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Promptnation, which is turning out to be like NaNo but with way less stress]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) 10: choice (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

Their lives have never been predictable. Which, in some ways, has made them very predictable, John thinks as he stops Sherlock in the hallway with a hand on the sleeve of his dressing gown. 'Hey,' he says, voice quiet. 'Come here.'

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, but doesn't hesitate to lean down and let John kiss him, thoroughly. Maybe even twice.

'Great, thanks,' John says roughly afterwards, backing away. 'I've got work now.'

He really should have known, from the start, that they'd have to steal moments for this out of the chaos they live in.

'Not your babysitter,' Mrs Hudson sings the next day as she holds Rosie's hands down the stairs. 'But I've got applesauce jelly with her name on it. And I'll change her nappy while I'm at it, won't I?' The last is said to Rosie, obviously, who is very focused on the stairs.

John, in turn, is focused somewhere else as well. 'We've got ten minutes,' he says, already out of his chair. 

'Eight and a half,' Sherlock corrects, pulling John to him and capturing his mouth easily. John is tempted, so tempted, to let it go too far, but his prefrontal cortex is fully developed now, unlike the last time he felt this sort of heady gut-lust.

Maybe it's because Sherlock is a man, but he hasn't experienced a sense of newness this acute since being in school. And he'd thought, because he knows Sherlock in every other way it is possible to know a person, that this added dimension would feel--normal. Comfortingly similar. Would slot into their lives unnoticeably.

Decidedly not, John accepts some days and a solved case later, just before his backside hits the kitchen table. They've got a few more stolen moments while Rosie's napping on the sofa, and he's determined to make the most of them.

At Sherlock's urging, he lifts himself up onto the table's cluttered surface, then grabs at Sherlock's face to bring him back into the kiss. He spreads his knees without a thought and feels enveloped by heat as Sherlock moves further in between them. He fits around Sherlock perfectly, and it feels like--

It feels like lacing his fingers together with the other thumb in front, or crossing his arms with the other hand dominant. It feels like his own body still, yes, his skin heating up and his lungs pressing for air, but from a literal whole new perspective.

And he wants more of it. 'Do you think,' he murmurs in between kisses, 'that you'd want to be the one--' He pauses as Sherlock bites at his jaw. 'The one in charge?'

Sherlock pulls back enough to give him a look. 'Are you struggling through your English modesty to ask me if I'd like to top?'

John's neck flushes further, and he's pretty sure now it's both from arousal and embarrassment. Which is also new; he's said plenty more graphic things to women without hesitation, but apparently all bets are off when it comes to Sherlock. 'Yeah,' he says firmly. 'Yes.'

'I'd assumed you'd want to be the one doing that.'

'Wait, though-- you've done this before…?'

Sherlock's mouth quirks up. 'Subtle as always, John. Yes, I have. But not with you, do you understand? I want whatever you want. Quite literally.'

John swallows. 'And vice versa. I'm not new-- I mean, to the whole idea--'

'I'm very aware,' Sherlock retorts. And of course he is, aware of both John's various partners over the years and also of his, well, solo habits.

'Alright,' John says dryly. 'Rein it in, detective.' He sobers, hoping he doesn't have to go into detail. 'But this feels… different. And I want you to--to show me everything, to do everything you want.'

Sherlock, as he should have expected, takes this as a sort of delightful challenge. 'Well, then, we are at a bit of a stalemate, aren't we?'

John smirks, relief seeping through. 'Flip a coin?' he says, tightening his thighs, ready to dip back into Sherlock's mouth.

But Rosie, naturally, chooses that moment to wake up, and to do so loudly. She's almost got Sherlock's name down, and she definitely can yell for John like she's getting paid for it.

John groans and leans his forehead against Sherlock's momentarily, or at least intending for it to be momentary but shortly hearing the sound of his daughter shuffling into the kitchen, dragging her favourite garishly plaid blanket behind her. 

'Perhaps we'll cut a deck of cards?' Sherlock suggests to him as they untangle.

Then the detective reaches down for Rosie, who is looking back and forth between them. 'Cards?' she repeats once she's in his arms, her tiny person pronunciation still simultaneously hilarious and brilliant. 

'Yes,' Sherlock answers matter-of-factly. 'Your father and I are trying to decide…' He looks at John, a glint in his eye John shouldn't like at all. '...who gets to have the first ginger nut.'

John chokes on his tea, the sting going into his nostrils. 'Unfair,' he says.

His daughter seems interested, which is not surprising considering she shares Sherlock's predilection for the biscuit. 'Ginger nut!' she says. 'Me too?'

'Of course,' Sherlock says amenably. 'It's time for tea, anyhow.'

John tamps down a smile, then goes in for the assist, relieving Sherlock of Rosie so the detective can rummage around in the fridge. In their current arrangement, Sherlock is in charge of keeping edible and non-edible items separated. It's a dealbreaker, John had said when they'd moved back in. And Sherlock had complied without too much fuss, much to John's continued surprise.

Though, to be honest, he half expects Rosie would be delighted to find fingers in the crisper.

When everything's on the table and Rosie's in her booster seat, John digs in his pocket and pulls out a 50p coin, flipping it over to Sherlock without warning.

Sherlock catches it, regards it, then raises an eyebrow. 'I can rig this, you know.' 

'Yes, but you won't, because my daughter is impressionable and worships you. And while you have many fine attributes, casual cheating is not one I'm interested in her inheriting.' 

'Or, erm,' Sherlock starts, fingers casually playing with the coin. 'Any.' It's not a question, but suddenly he's looking intently at John, forehead wrinkled.

John's heart squeezes as he clocks what Sherlock's actually trying to get at. 'Sherlock. Bloody hell. Of course.' He inhales harshly. 'I know I'm not-- not exactly trustworthy any more, in that arena.'

But Sherlock cuts off his self-flagellation. 'Poppycock.'

'Beg pardon?'

Sherlock shakes his head. 'You were seduced by a person who could talk someone into murder with the snap of her fingers. She is literally the most brilliant manipulator in the world, and though I hold you in high regard you in no way had the capacity to overcome that.'

The anxiety slowly eases, though he suspects he'll never fully be free of it. 'You're admitting you're not the cleverest?'

He thinks Sherlock will counter in good humour, but instead he's a bit thoughtful. 'I think that, at that level, one is somewhere in the stratosphere, separated from everyone below. I find I rather like it down here.' He smiles crookedly, genuinely, at John. 'In certain company, at least.' 

John's heart twinges. 'Well. That's.' He clears his throat. 'That's good. We rather like you down here. Most of the time.'

He breaks eye contact, instead looking at Rosie, who is happily getting banana all over her hands. He hopes the words will be sufficient. 'But I mean it.'

Sherlock's voice is quiet, fond and no-nonsense at the same time. 'I know. I know you, John Watson.'

John feels a smile slowly cross his face. 'Yeah, that's right, you'd catch me out instantly anyway. How I ended up with the one person I literally will not ever be able to keep a secret from, I've no idea. Birthdays and anniversaries are going to be very, very boring.'

Sherlock's smirk gives no doubt as to where his mind has immediately gone. 'Oh, I doubt that.'

John can tell his skin is starting to flush again. 'Speaking of… Coin flip is right out, so…?'

'Paper scissors stone?' 

'No!'

'Why not?'

'Because you'd definitely cheat at that.'

'True. Magic 8 Ball?'

'You know what a Magic 8 Ball is?'

'Had a case where it was the murder weapon.'

'What? Really?'

'Yes.' Sherlock leans in, clearly ready to share the tale while assisting Rosie with her cheerios. 

And John wants to remember this, this exact feeling of this exact moment, forever.

[❤️]

[panelshowsource]

Oh I love a long answer! I just love you in general and your obsession with panel shows hehe.

For me, I’m honestly surprised that Richard Osman hasn’t been on BFQOTY yet and would love to see him there. He’s a natural on HIGNFY and WILTY so I hope he finds time for it one day.

Also maybe an unlikely celeb to appear, but I think Johannes Radebe from Strictly Come Dancing would be fabulous. I love his energy both on and off that show!

i love you in general 😩😩

i don't know how well i've masked this but i'm in a mild-to-moderate richard osman phase atm so i LOVE the namedrop. in my dreams there will be a celeb couples edition of bfq and richard x ingrid will be on it

i think johannes would be so fun!!! almost completely unrelated but speaking of strictly you know how we have those panel show quotes in our heads and how come sometimes they're soooo random like just david saying chancellor of the exchequer or why would you care.........if your horse had a dirty willy? well one of the other other major ones in my head is DO I LOOK LIKE'A FUHCKING GINO TO YOU 💀 and you know what off the back of their long-time rivalry why don't we get team gino x fred on bfq actually

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM okay just any bits really? lies or truths, doesn't matter?

I once had a snog with one of the people here on Would I Lie to You? tonight.

When I meet someone for the very first time, I automatically make a mental note of what animal I think they are. Once it's in, I never forget it.

I shaved off a beard I had been growing for weeks because I didn't want David to think I was copying him.

The D in my name stands for 'Delicious.'

This is my orchidometer. It was a present from my sister.

I have perfect pitch so can listen to any noise and tell you what musical note it is.

I can't wear normal gloves because I have an unusual hand.

This is the sweatshirt that my wife and I put on together when we are cozying up on a chilly evening. We call it the 'cuddle jumper'.

this SENT ME

these lists stress me out because i can already name 5 more but WHEN SHOULD I STOP 😩

which shitfire exactly? bfq? because i think you should let yourself fall down the nostalgia rabbit hole to ring in the new year!!!

it's something i plan to host on my public drive in the future, but that's a big project (it's such a long series!) and i can't make it happen at the moment. but it's very readily available on youtube!

hello anon and happy new year to you too ♡

i do have an idea — can you send me a dm? i can show you :)

—

i have a few more asks as well as requests and i'm a bit busy the next couple of days but i'll follow up on those this week! happy new year everyone :)

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / TAGS / ASK

[robertsheehanownsmyass]

Luke/Reader/Smut 💋 (Please, please!)

Pyrotechnics

Luke x Fem!Reader An intense conversation takes a passionate turn. TW: talk of death and addiction, mild angst but a lot of smut with a fluffy finish.

Luke exhaled, the cigarette smoke languidly drifting from his full lips.

“I’m still on probation,” he said, his voice monotone.

You kicked his shoe, forcing him to correct his stance. He had been leaning up against the exterior of the building hosting the NA meeting you had just brought him to. He turned and fixed you with a hard glare, clearly annoyed.

“You think I’m daft? I fuckin’ know that.” you countered. “But you don’t really want to be here do ye? There’s loads of better things we could be doing...”

“Stop,” Luke interrupted, his eyes blazing. “Why do ya have to get on me like that?”

“Wow, and here I thought you actually liked me,” you said, flicking the unsmoked remains of your cigarette away, dejection lacing your voice. “You just seem angry all the time.”

“I do fucking like ye, alright?” Luke replied. “But rehab and probation are the only things keeping me out of the clink, aside from the fact I was a minor when it happened. So I can’t fuck off.”

“It’s been six fucking years,” you countered. “How long are they going to hold you hostage?”

“I killed a man,” Luke said, his tone oozing bitterness. “What sort of punishment do you think is appropriate?”

That stopped you, as you had no reply for him. His actions were technically in defense of his friend, but his and Malachy’s poor choices put them in that position in the first place. His father was a drunk and his brother was a drug dealer. In light of everything, he really was getting off light. You looked back at him, and found him staring at you, his expression softer.

“It’s also not just the courts…” he began, but he trailed off, as if unsure what to say.

“What is it?” you prompted.

“I don’t want to end up like my da. My brother. I don’t want to be like them.”

You took his arm, and entwined the fingers of his hand with yours, offering silent encouragement.

“I do like ye, and I feel like I need to go through all this shit so we can be together. Have a proper future.”

Your heart leapt in your chest. “Oh Luke,” you breathed. “Do ye mean that?”

He nodded, and you stood up on your toes to plant a kiss to his cheek. He turned his head, replacing his cheek with his lips, and he released your hand to cup your face, deepening the kiss. He tasted of tobacco and wintergreen, and you leaned into his kiss with feeling.

He broke the kiss and looked around, seeing if there was anyone else nearby. A few other people had recently entered the building, but for now, it was only the two of you in the waning evening light.  

“We still have ten minutes,” he breathed, taking your hand and pulling you around to the back of the building.

“Where are we--” you began before his lips were back on yours, and he roughly pushed you up against the building. “Oh,” you managed between kisses, your breath stolen.

“I need to have ye,” he said as he hiked one of your booted legs around his hip, his hand sliding up the length of your dress. His fingers found the elastic of your knickers and he tugged.

“Luke,” you panted with a nervous chuckle. “What if someone sees?”

“I’ll be quick,” he said. “But I’m having you before this meeting starts.”

Arousal flooded every inch of your body like electricity. You were a live wire, and felt the humming sensation down to your fingertips and toes. You grabbed Luke’s head and kissed him roughly, tongues sliding together. He moaned as you snogged him and he gave your knickers a fresh tug, tearing the thin elastic and allowing them to fall halfway down your ass. He fumbled with the button of his jeans as you slid your hand up his shirt, feeling his taut muscles beneath and stopping at a hardened nipple, rolling it between your fingers.

He released his cock from his pants, and with no further foreplay nor preamble, he slung your other leg around his hip, untethering you from the ground altogether. You helped guide him to your entrance, which was already slick and ready, and he slid in. At first he was gentle, but then he snapped his hips, slamming your ass against the rough brick and filling you completely to the hilt.  You cried out, and he slammed into you again. He picked up the pace, fucking you relentlessly, and he slid his hand up your back to create a barrier for your body and the building. He held you affixed and buried his face into your neck as he fucked you, peppering your skin with rough kisses and little nibbles. You mewled and whimpered at the intensity of the sex, and your orgasm arrived suddenly and with little build-up, rocketing across your core and dispersing through your extremities. You sputtered and your legs shook, and within a few seconds, he pumped his own climax into you, his hips jerking as he stirred to completion.

He gently lowered you to the ground, helping fix your dress before putting himself back together, You kicked off the remains of your ruined knickers and he scooped them up with a smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he handed them to you. “Worth it,” you said, and you both laughed.

“Did ye mean what ye said, about the future?” you said a little sheepishly as you made sure your hair was alright.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you in for a hug.

“Course I did. All this,” he said into your hair, “the meetings and behaving myself. It’s all for you. I love ye, you know.”

Tears immediately blurred your vision and you looked up at him, finding his expression sincere and full of feeling.

“I love ye too, you daft idiot,” you said. “Now get to your meeting before you’re late.”

“Right,” he said, and began to head off. You couldn’t help but send him away with a light smack to his backside, which made him laugh.

At the meeting, the moderator asked why Luke seemed so cheerful.

“Well there’s this girl…” Luke began, and the rest is history. @spaceclone-mom @joz-stankovich