#angry sherlock fics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mybelovedwoo · 2 years ago

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i'm glad i have you with me

bff!san x f!reader

fluff, comfort, childhood best friends to lovers (slow burn) / wc:1.3k

warnings: cheating, crying, swear words, cuddling

note: so tell me how you liked this one. i am a bit nervous because this is my first non-wooyoung fic, but i really enjoyed writing it. please stay tuned in the future for other members' fics too. if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

san masterlist - main masterlist

Sitting on a couch at a house party all alone with people you don't know, there's literally any other place you would rather be. Originally you came with you're boyfriend Seungjun, but you haven't seen him in hours. You weren't much of a party person, but this time you accompanied him, because he begged you for days for it, but now you are starting to regret it honestly.

You take out your phone from your back pocket, but before you open it, you look around once more to see if your boyfriend pops up somewhere, you are out of luck, so after you unlocked it, the first thing you open is your messages. Your fingers linger over Seungjun's name, but it says he's been unavailable for hours, no shit Sherlock, you think. Instead, you scroll down a bit and open the messages for your best friend, San.

You know well that he probably not gonna answer, because it's Saturday night, and he is most definitely out with his friends too. You don't care, you try it anyway, he is your best chance to rescue you out of this hell. "Hey, San." is the first you send, you're not sure what to write him, you don't want to bother him. "What are you doing?" you wait a few minutes, but he's not responding, his phone is probably on mute. "I'm kinda bored, I don't know where Seungjun went. I need your rescue ㅠㅠ." Nothing, no response. You feel really annoyed at this point, but not because San, poor boy did nothing wrong, it is just a bad moment. "You know what I'm gonna look for Seungjun. Don't worry and have fun." You lock your phone and put it back in your back pocket.

You look around the kitchen, then in the yard, but you don't see him anywhere. You are getting kinda worried that maybe he left you there. At last, you walk up the stairs, the hallway is full of kissing couples, who must have only met tonight. The moment you enter one of the rooms, you regret everything you did until now. Your boyfriend was there with another girl you had never seen before, doing things you never expected him to do with anyone except for you.

You didn't know what to do in the big shock, but you didn't speak up, maybe they didn't even notice you or just didn't care. But you turned around and hurried down the stairs, unable to control your tears. You just needed some fresh air, you had to get out of this place immediately. You crashed out of the entrance of the house and fell down to the stairs. Sitting there you didn't even think, you were already calling San. This is urgent now.

Your phone didn't even ring for two seconds when they already answered it. "Hey Y/N, is everything okay? I'm sorry my phone was on mute I haven't seen your texts. Have you found Seungjun? Wait, are you crying?" You couldn't even speak, though you wanted to tell him everything. "Y/N please say something! What happened? Are you hurt?" You took three big breaths to calm yourself down enough to talk a few words. "He cheated on me. Could you come to pick me up?" You didn't have to say more. "I've already sat in the car the minute I saw your messages, don't worry. I'll be there soon."

He wasn't lying, he got there in record time. You watched as he pulled up with his car to the driveway of the house. When he gets out of the car, is only when you get up from the stairs you've been sitting on. San rushed towards you at a high speed, so you didn't have time to move even an inch in his way.

"Where is that dickhead?" He asked with blunt words when he got to you. He seemed really angry, maybe even angrier than you, you had never in your life seen him like this before. You shrugged, implying that you don't know and don't care either. But that was not enough for him. "Is he still inside there?" You started to get a little worried.

"I think so. But please don't make a scene, let's just go home." You pulled him through his forearm when he already started walking to the entrance. "Wait for me in the car, okay? I'll be quick, I'm not gonna do anything he doesn't deserve, I swear." He said to you, while he stroked your face with his right hand. You hesitated, but who are you to tell him what to do, so you went up to his car and sat on the passenger side for like five minutes.

At this point you didn't care much about waiting a little longer, that's what you did all night long. San slammed the door behind himself, and somehow he looked even angrier than before. He got in the car next to you and when he looked at you his expression softened. "What did you do?" You asked him with a sobby voice. "I just showed him where he belonged. Let's just say he went swimming." You look down at his hands and you see it's all bruised up.

He started the engine. "San, I don't wanna go home. What if he comes there?" You didn't know what to do, since he had a key to your apartment. You couldn't bare to see his face once more.

"We're going to my place." He didn't even hesitate. You slept at his place many times now, but not since you started dating Seungjun. San was worried when you found out you are going to different colleges, he was afraid that you wouldn't spend as much time together as you used to. But you thought that was nonsense since you have been best friends since you were very little, you grew up together.

He never liked Seungjun, he always said he didn't deserve you. But he was your first boyfriend, and you were blinded with love, at least that's what you thought. Looking back, you also know that he didn't treat you well, but you don't know that when you're in it.

Entering San's apartment, all you could think about was that you needed to get some sleep asap. Weariness hit you the moment you got hit by the heat of the comfortable room. You didn't want to bother San with your presence, you don't know what plans he had.

You've been quite comfortable in here, so you decided to lie down on the couch in the living room. "What are you doing?" Asked San, entering the room with a glass of water in his hand.

"Sleeping. I'm really tired." You mumbled, not able to speak properly.

"You can't sleep here. Go to my room, there is my bed. I'll sleep on the couch." You sat up at his statement. "No, you can't. This is your place." There's no way you letting him sleep out here in the cold living room when he has his own warm bed just a room away. "Let's sleep both in the bed. I think it's big enough for the both of us." You said. It's not like this is the first time you sleep in the same bed, you always fell asleep next to each other when you were little.

"Are you sure?" He hesitated. "We are not so small anymore." The joke made you both laugh, it made his heart clench to see you happy again.

After you took a warm shower, he gave you a big shirt of his and a jogger pant that was definitely too big for you. You got under the cover, San was already there, lying down. He turned off the lamp on the bedside table, which illuminated the whole room until now.

As soon as it got dark your eyes started watering again, you remember everything that happened today. All of a sudden, you feel a pair of hands slip on your waist. San hugged you tightly from behind. "I got you." He whispered in your ears. He didn't let go of you all night long, you woke up in the same position the next morning.

#san #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagine #choi san #san x reader #ateez san #ateez san fluff #childhood best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #slowburn romance #san x you #san comfort #bff san #san imagine #ateez fanfic

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pantasticloser · 6 months ago

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I wrote a Sherlock and Co fic on my phone while the internet is down. Kind of a preslash jonklock. Fic under the cut. It's also posted on Ao3 here

In So Few Words

Summary:

For a split second, a mere blip really, as his eyes open, John almost wonders if it would hurt this badly if the bullet had just killed him outright.

Set the morning after The Dancing Men pt 3.

For a split second, a mere blip really, as his eyes open, John almost wonders if it would hurt this badly if the bullet had just killed him outright. He groans, rubbing his hands up the stubble on his jaw and over his eyes, flinching and cursing under his breath at the deep achey pull from the left side of his ribs. If he didn't have to pee he'd lay here all day.

John forces himself out of bed and drags himself to the bathroom. He's just got his sleep pants, a hideous orange color his mum gifted him, and he forgoes trying to find a shirt. Moving his arms that much makes his side flare up just thinking about it. After handling his business, he takes a moment to look at the damage. It's ugly all right, maybe not as bad as the Ied burn, but hideous nonetheless. He traces the edges with his eyes.

It's a raised purple splotch in the middle, working its way through the rainbow in outward moving rings. Underneath he knows there's a rib with a hairline fracture and bruised bones, but there was also a pair of lungs breathing and a heart that kept beating, so pain or no, he was lucky he'd worn the vest.

Down in the kitchen he can hear Sherlock pacing, back and forth, 8 steps one way, then a turn, 8 steps again, repeat. God, Sherlock. John had been petrified when Slaney fired the gun, too busy falling and having the air slammed out of him to do much but wheeze, but Sherlock had never sounded more scared than when he'd screamed John's name. He'd also never been scarier than when he'd tried to kill an already dying man. Not scary, John corrects. He could never be afraid of Sherlock, but dangerous, yes. Sherlock was dangerous, fascinating and deadly.

The stumble to the kitchen isn't what John would call graceful. He damn near trips over Archie on the way as the dog lays snoring in the middle of the floor, and every step tugs on his skin, but he grits his teeth and bears it.

Fate would have it that he missed the dog just to slam into Sherlock mid step anyways. John can't help the hiss that comes out as he flinches back, instinctually slapping a hand over his ribs as he breathes out slowly. "Sorry Sherlock, I wasn't paying attention."

Silence meets him, and John doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until he opens them to an eye full of panicked detective.

To anyone else, Sherlock would look annoyed, maybe even angry, but John knows that tilt of his mouth, and the intensity of his gaze. It's worry. His eyes are locked onto John's side, mouth opening and closing just a fraction, like he's trying to speak but never finishes the first word. "Sherlock? Are you okay?"

Sherlocks mouth clicks shut audibly, and his mouth presses into a thin line as he nods once, and whirls around to the kitchen counter. Before he has time to think, a plate has been pressed into John's hands, and he's being herded to the couch, gently but insistently by hands on his shoulders.

"You made me...breakfast?" John hazards. It's beans on toast, a bit too wet for his liking and a side of eggs, overdone. Sherlock nods again, more hesitantly this time as he drops onto the opposite end of the couch. The man curls himself up in a way John thinks should be impossible. Long legs tucked up in front of his chest, arms wrapped around and his chin on his knees. A finger points at the plate, then to John's face and he gets the meaning right away. "Okay, okay mate I'll eat." He shoves in a fork full of egg, and mumbles a thanks in between bites.

The silence stretches on, and it's not that John's a prude, but the staring is beginning to make his skin crawl. He finishes quickly, setting the plate down perhaps a little too roughly and tries to turn to Sherlock. Big mistake that, and his ribs scream at him as he gasps. "Fuck, that was stupid." He breathes out in a slow measured breath before he turns just his head to Sherlock this time. The worried look is back, even more intensely this time.

"Is there a uh, particular reason? You're giving me the silent treatment?"

He should've expected the eye rolling, really, but Sherlock is shoving a phone into his view shortly thereafter, a section of article highlighted.

John mutters as he reads. "Some autistic individuals may experience bouts of being non-verbal, as opposed to a constant state. The exact cause of these triggers is unknown, but it's often assumed that stress and overstimulation can contribute. Huh, so you're okay then? Just a bit too much excitement yesterday?"

The withering look he's given tells him excitement was the wrong word to use. "Sorry, not excitement. Bad word, won't do it again, scout's honor." An eye roll this time. He can work with this. "You are though, right? Okay, that is?"

The phone is pulled back, and after a moment of furious typing, it's thrust back into his vision. It's the note app, and in bold font it reads 'I'm not the one who got shot.'

"Well yeah," John snorts, "Slaney got shot, quite a lot actually and well obviously he's not okay he's dead, pretty thoroughly and-" his voice drops off. At that moment, John wonders if this is what Sherlock feels like when a case reveals itself, when everything falls into place."You mean me. You mean that I got shot."

A solem nod and a look that's calling him a moron without so many words.

"Sherlock, I'm okay. A bit bruised, possibly with Marianas cold coming on but I'm, really." He pushes Sherlocks hand with the phone down, leaving his atop as he holds it to the cushions. "You don't have to make me breakfast, though I do appreciate it, or stare at me like I'm going to drop dead".

John lifts his hand from Sherlocks and brings it up onto the back of the couch, gesturing with his right to his open side. "See? Just some bruising and a hairline fracture. Nothing too bad."

John would like to say he doesn't startle easily, but having a grown man very suddenly in his space has him frozen mid breath. Sherlock has his gaze locked on his bruise, and slowly, a large warm hand is resting over his ribs.

Sherlock is gentle about it, sweeping his hand over John's side, prodding medically and methodically, but decidedly gently as well. It would almost be ticklish if it wasn't hurting so much, but the warmth feels nice and John relaxes back into the couch as much as he can and lets his eyes shut.

When Sherlock seems to be done, he lets them open just a sliver, but the worried look is still there. "It wasn't your fault, Sherlock."

Intense eyes snap to John's, and he'd flinch if he had the energy. "It's nobodys fault but Slaney’s." Slowly, so he can pull back if he wishes, John takes Sherlocks hand in his own and brings it to his chest, right over his heart. "I'm alive, healthy as a horse, well not like the ones we've met those ones were messed up-"

Sherlock seems to relax at the contact, letting out a small chuckle as his hand presses further into John's heartbeat. John continues. "The point is, I'm okay. I’m okay, you're okay, Mariana's okay other than her cold."

A solemn nod. This clearly isn't working to make Sherlock relax completely. One last idea then.

"Would a um, would a hug? Make you feel better?" John doesn't get a verbal answer, not that he was expecting one, but he does get a lap full of detective. Sherlocks arms are thrown around his neck, and he's hunched himself down, legs across John's lap and head tucked into the curve of his jaw. For the first time this morning, John can see the tension finally begin to leave Sherlocks frame, and he wraps one arm around his middle, the other hand coming across the back of Sherlock's head, pulling him into where John knows he's listening to his pulse. "I'll take that as a yes to the hugging, then."

Sherlocks breath is warm on John's collarbone, and the hair is soft as John threads his fingers through it. "I'll be okay. I'm hurt, my pride is definitely hurt, but bodies heal." He gives Sherlock a gentle squeeze before tipping his head back into the cushion just a fraction.

He should get up. Should remove Sherlock and take care of Archie and the editing for the episode, but Sherlock is warm and alive in his arms, and John lets sleep pull him back under. The doctor did say to rest after all.

#sherlock and co #jonklock #johnlock #the dancing men part 3 #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #pre slash #sherlock & co #sherlock holmes #john watson

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thegildedbee · 7 months ago

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Do-Over: May 20 Prompt from @calaisreno

Program Note: Since there are a bunch of these posties, I've also stuck them onto my ao3 site since that's easier than my going back through tumblr later if I end up trying to make them grow up into a real fic :-) You can also find them at the May 2024 Prompts collection, in the company of multitudes of breathtakingly creative ficsters and their fics to read and treasure, organized by @calaisreno -- what a maestro they are, with setting in motion this whole fantabulous outpouring of mayday-mayhem and orchestrating it all month long, amirite? Yes, I am! :-) ........................................................................... “Really? Really? I can’t even open a goddamn email message without getting knocked about and run over and pissed on,” John fumes, trapped in a fight-or-flight reaction that is equal parts fight and equal parts flight, making his head feel like it’s going to explode. He throws his coffee cup against the wall, and his only regret is that the effort does nothing in terms of relieving any of the pressure. “Of course it doesn’t,” he says through clenched teeth.

The last weeks have been an agony. The first weekend in February had ushered in heavy rains and sharp winds, which had him making his way across London while dragging his boots through grimy slush that inevitably trickled its way inside his socks in icy rivulets. He landed on his arse at one point while crossing the road, which annoyed the already angry drivers who leaned on their horns as they skidded around him.

He’d stayed inside for the next four days, until the sun appeared for a brief flirtation with the city before being swallowed up by the charcoal ash-smudged clouds once again.

He knows, obviously, that one month out from Sherlock’s funeral, that it's still early days for being able to have any sort of balance inside, but still, he hadn’t thought that there were bottoms below the bottoms to which he’d already plummeted. But whether he acknowledges it forthrightly or not, part of what is driving his internal fury is the incessant advertising for Valentine’s Day. It makes him want to take his gun and shoot a skull and crossbones into the nearest brick wall.

Staring at the mess of ceramic shards and wild splatters of coffee, he puts his hands on his hips and hangs his head. “You need to get it out, John,” he spits out in a whiny, imitative falsetto. “Say it now, John. Say what you didn’t say.”

There was the huge British Airways billboard, of a blue sky with a white fluffy cloud in the shape of a heart, with a jet and its contrail slicing through it like a cupid’s arrow:

“London to Singapore: This Valentine’s Day, Say it With an Escape Voucher.”

Escape. Right.

There was the Twitter campaign on the Underground, with large mock-ups of sarcastic dating tweets, like:

*finds a soulmate.* *swipes left in hope of finding a hotter soulmate.*

The mass text message from Angelo’s, advertising the Valentine’s Day prix fixe dinner:

“Eat with Your Heart.”

Today, though. Could this be any more ludicrous? It was nothing but a mundane email message, to be sent to the trash in a trice. But.

It was one of those emails, where the writer puts an inspirational quote underneath their signature.

“There are no do-overs, but there are second chances.”

Oh, yes, he was feeling so uplifted, now. So appreciative of the earnest guidance. So motivated to become more self-aware.

" . . . there are second chances."

Like hell there are.

He hears the sound of the door opening, and of his sister bustling into the vestibule, chattering and gesticulating her way toward the kitchen with her usual noise and bluster.

"Hey, Johnny? You home?” she asks, as she rounds the corner, stopping short at the sight of the smoldering vibrations he's giving off. “Oh. There you are. What happened?”

John shakes his head, giving her a sardonic smile. “I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. The mug just jumped right out of my hand and ran into the wall.”

She looks at him sideways, immediately aware from his tone that something is clearly gravely amiss, that the shattered cup is just the tip of something harsher. Although, when wasn’t he finding something amiss? It's been a never-ending rotation of anger, depression, anger, depression, anger, depression.

“I picked up some groceries," she says, cautiously. "There’s some of that ice cream you like. Also fruit and veg if you’re going to take a stab at fighting off the scurvy you've got coming on.”

John walks into the kitchen, his demeanor collapsing from rage to stoicism. “Hey. Let me help.”

“Sure, thanks, Johnny. Oh, I wanted to ask you for a favor – it’s a bit daft, but I thought I’d just give it a shot."

“Okay.”

“Trina wants to go to a film on Valentine’s Day. Would it be possible for you to watch her two kids for a few hours at her place?”

John stares at her in disbelief, pulling back his neck and peering at her with skepticism.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah," she says, hurriedly. "I see that’s going over real well. Never mind.”

John shakes his head. "Harry, it's just that I have no idea if I can be in charge of someone's kids right now. I imagine I could, but it’s not exactly in my wheelhouse. I mean, safety first, with kids, and I'm not in the best head."

Harry brushes her shoulder against his, trying to lighten the mood. "Are you serious? Can you handle kids? What about living with Sherlock – you said it was like running a day nursery sometimes. And you kept him out of trouble just fine, kept him in one piece -- ”

Her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes go impossibly wide. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, Johnny, oh no, I didn’t think, I just let my mouth run on.” She looks at him standing there, rigid except for a slow inhale, and a scary length of time holding his breath, until he finally begins to let it escape in stingy exhalations. She tries to explain, with, “It’s just, you know, you always said it was like managing a child at times" -- and his expression is really alarming her now -- "oh no, never mind, I will shut up. Right now. I'm so sorry."

John says nothing. He turns his head to the side and looks behind him; looks above him; looks at Harry; looks down at his feet; clenches his hands; unclenches his hands; clenches his hands again; starts to say something; stops; shakes his head; looks at Harry again; rolls his eyes; and throws up his hands.

“That’s it. Harry, this isn't because of the last few moments, it’s just I'm at the end of my rope after a very bad few weeks. Look. I just need to get out of here. I'm going to go away for a few days. I appreciate what you're doing for me, and for being able to be here, but just for now, I need to get away."

“Okay, John," she says, placatingly, contrite. "I’m sorry, I really –” she stops when he holds up his hand.

“Not the issue, Harry. Truly.”

“But where are you going to go? Are you going to be okay?” she says urgently, worried about this sudden turn of events, and what it might mean.

“I don’t know," John says plainly, shrugging his shoulders. "I may just go to the train station and throw a dart at the departures board. But, look, I’m going to grab a few things and then I’ll be off. Best have me out the way for yourself as well.”

Not stopping to double-guess himself or to have to explain himself further, John jogs over to his room and hastily grabs at the first few things he sees that he might need, stuffs them into his rucksack, puts on his heavy coat, and gives Harry a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll let you know where I land.”

"Promise, Johnny?”

“Promise.”

John practically runs out the door, feeling like he's flying apart, and wanting to get outside and to start moving toward something, somewhere, even if it’s just pretend. He loves London, he does. So much, but he's been so many places around the city with Sherlock for so many different reasons, it’s an atlas of emotion that he is always aware of. To be honest, he also doesn’t want to leave London right now, for the same reason; London means Sherlock, and he wants to hold on to as much of him as he can right now.

Fight or flight.

He wonders: should he visit Sherlock's grave? Would that help him shake some of this? No, the gravesite is an ending, and he doesn’t want to be reminded of endings, of feeling like he's being ground into the pavement by a merciless force.

Some place that is a memory of beginnings? Bart’s is out, he says to himself with a harsh chuckle. Not 221B.

Where then?

He thinks back to those first days, and pulls up his general knowledge of London transport and pleads with it to find him an answer.

Paddington, it says. Paddington? Ah, he knows this. All right, then: Paddington.

He’s going to Cardiff.

........................................................

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper

@helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra

@solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

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#mayprompts2024 #calaisreno #sherlock bits and bobs #may prompts 2024 #johnlock

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padfootdaredmetoo · 1 year ago

Note

I come with requests (pls). You can decide if it has smut or not but-

SHERLOCK (ENOLA HOLMES VERSION) IS TALKING TO IRENE AND Y/N IS JEALOUS CUZ HE SEEMS TO FLIRT WITH HER N STUFF.

Again, you can decide if there's smut or anything but I NEED this fic.

It would be greatly appreciated as I need another reason to listen to Reputation.

Hey Anon,

Again I'm incredibly sorry you had to wait so long. Hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Smutt, dom / sub vibes, arguing

The whole situation was wrong. You stood in the doorway of Sherlock’s apartment, the apartment you recently had to move into. The woman seemed to enjoy your startled expression, her eyes were dark and there was a smirk ghosting on her red lips.

“This is-” Sherlock started his eyes fixed on the woman, to your relief he had kept his distance. He was leaning against the fireplace mantel.

“Oh, I know who she is.” Her eyes narrowed, and her body was sprawled across the couch. “I’m Irene, an old friend of Sherlock’s,” She said moving her gaze back to him.

You wanted to throttle her, wishing that women’s issues could be settled like men. Instead, you smiled brightly.

“If I knew we were having guests I would have put something together. I’ll put the kettle on.” You moved into the kitchen.

“No need darling. I'm not here for tea.” She uncrossed her legs and sat upright. “I came here for business.”

Then it started. You stayed on the edge of the room as the two started to banter. Crime scenes, clues, motives, both trying to get the upper hand. You struggled to keep up as they argued, one thing was glaringly obvious. The tension in the room was palpable. You felt the electricity and it made you sick to your stomach.

They were an inch away from each other, Sherlock looking unimpressed and cold, while she looked like she was savoring every moment of the interaction.

“Maybe you should look a little closer, somewhere in the woods maybe?”

“Moriarty-”

“Sends his regards.” She whispered her eyes focused on his lips. Part of you felt like you should intervene, and the other part of you felt like slinking away. This was so embarrassing, he seemed to forget about your existence altogether. Part of you knew it was because he wanted the missing information from the case he was working on, but the rest of you couldn't feel that logic.

You were swallowed up by his lack of concern for you. He looked and acted as if he was single, he was doing exactly what she wanted him to do.

She turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her causing you to jump. Your stomach and chest were tight, but you would rather be shot than let him see that he had hurt you.

You moved to the bedroom and shut the door, locking it even though you knew he would probably be sitting there sorting through her riddles.

You grabbed a bag stuffing it with clothes, anger seeping out of you. It was going to be a huge mess if you went to your sister's place like this but you didn’t care. Any place was better than here.

You opened the bedroom door and to no surprise, he was sitting there staring out the window. Muttering under his breath. He never liked being interrupted when he was like this. So you walked across the living space towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” He asked exhaling smoke from his pipe.

“Doesn't matter.” You shrugged.

“Of course, it matters.” He stood up fully attentive now.

“No -”

“She just gave us the missing clue, Morarity is--”

“Is a fucking ponce. I don't have time for this Sherlock. I can't do this,” You slipped a little then took a deep breath making your way closer to the door.

His large frame blocked you and you were surprised that he was making such an effort to keep you there. He looked like he was struggling to explain something.

“You're angry. I don't understand why.” This made your blood boil. “But Moriarty wants you.”

“I’m glad someone does.” You bit back. His face was stern and you knew he wasn't going to let you leave and a part of you was happy to argue.

“You don’t think I want you.” His voice was just above a snarl, and his eyes were dark. His anger had the opposite effect on your body, your pulse raced and you suddenly felt a few degrees too hot. His glare was consuming and you hated him for how attractive it was.

“Obviously not. She was all over you, and you - you - you - just let her. Right in front of me - you didnt even -” He leaned his face closer to yours and your words cut off.

“She wants you to run out of here angry. There’s a delivery carriage just up the street that hasn't moved since she got here.”Sherlock whispered. “She’s already left, thinking you’d run out of here. We have the upper hand.”

You thought about what he was saying, there was plenty of logic. The way her eyes would land on you periodically despite flirting with Sherlock. She was obvious too obvious about it. You still felt like fighting.

“I don’t like this.” You gritted your teeth. Many converstations had recently been had over the many ups and downs of the life he lead. How you were attched to him publicly now due to a careless misstep. Now you understood his reluctance all these months.

Moving in with him was the safest option. You didnt realise how angry all of that made you, how your private life was boiled down and sold as broth for everyone to consume. Somthing so dear to you, you knew deep down you wouldnt want to live without him. You closed your eyes, you wanted him. But the world needed him. All those murdered women, cases left unsolved completley neglected until he would show up.

He was doing what was right. A thought that comforted the anger you felt at the loss of control.

“Then let me make it up to you.” He said through gritted teeth. A voice in the back of your mind told you to run away from the darkness in his eyes. Your body stood frozen in place, welcoming his rage.

He closed the space between the two of you and gripped your jaw tightly. You looked up at him with wide eyes, he was so angry. His mouth crashed into yours and you felt yourself slip away into blissful submission.

This wasn't normal for you. When you wanted to fight you let him have it. You would shout at him and was always secretly grateful that he could take it. He never tried to take advantage, letting you express your emotions freely. Normally without consequence. But his hands were warm and gripping at your flesh madly.

You felt like you should make an effort to push back, try to take some control back. But your body had a mind of its own. You wanted him to make it up to you, and for once you didn’t want to be the one thinking and doing.

You let him ravish you, pulling apart the front of your dress. His mouth biting the flesh along your breastbone. He pushed you against the living room wall, and a crashing sound was noted in your periphery but you didnt have the brain power to care. He used his knee to press his way between your legs. His hand ran up the inside of your thigh bringing your skirts up higher.

His mouth tenderly sucked in a nipple causing you to knot your fingers in his hair. A groan escaped your lips, your eyes fluttered closed and the last of your thoughts faded away.

Your mind was singularly focused on receiving his touch. He placed one last sharp bite against the base of your neck before picking you up. He kissed you messily as he carried you back to the bedroom. Kocking over piles of books and experiments. The place would be a disaster after but you didnt care. His large body somehow managed to safely navigate the chaos before reaching the bedroom. He threw you down on the bed and quickly discarded your dress. His body was on yours in the span of a breath, he wasn't going to risk letting you sober up and snap back to reality.

A faint warning sounded that there were still men waiting outside the house… That thing could be dangerous. The thought only made you wetter.

Your mind went blank as you felt his mouth on your clit. No warm-up, no warning. Your legs snapped shut and you let out a scream. Your hips bucked and he placed a hard slap to the side of your thigh.

You were getting close, your voice was loud. He moved away and you tried to push his face back down. He resisted you easily. With a fluid motion, he had moved his whole length inside you. The stretch was almost enough to make you orgasm.

“Not yet.” He snarled, thrusting inside you wildly. His large hand cradled your neck with a delicious grip, his teeth sinking into the flesh under your collarbone once more.

The pain and pleasure was too much for you. Your hips met his every thrust desperate for his command. Your throat was sore from crying out.

His thrusts became harder and deeper, stealing the air from your lungs. Your whole body was tensing up.

“Cum” he growled into your ear and your body contracted and seized. The pressure was unbearable, he forced his way in and out of your tight cunt, finding his own release.

After an eternity your body finally collapsed into nothingness. The most soothing nothingness.

Sherlock collapsed onto the bed next to you. Pulling you against his naked body tightly. You let him move your limp body, still not able to grasp the world.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into your hair. His voice was thick with grief, and you shuddered against the sudden cold that moved against your skin. “I will send you to Frace, there is a monastery there -”

“Stange thing to do to a woman before banishing her to live with nuns” You mumbled rubbing your cheek against the hair on his chest.

“I can keep you safe.” He sighed heavily.

“Perfectly safe here. He’ll find me if you send me away, better to stay next to you. Handle this like every other case.” You were very proud of the contributions you made to the cases you had helped with.

___________

The man shifted looking down at his watch once again. The lady never left the apartment. He felt antsy, Moriarty made it very clear how he deals with disobedience, the last thing he wanted was to end up another case file on Sherlock’s desk.

He didnt really want this job. He looked at the apartment window through his side-view mirror. Guilt hit him at the thought of kidnapping a woman. His brother had made it very clear that this was the only way to pay off his debts. The thought of his nephew and sister-in-law, made him stay in his seat.

Stupid family.

After a long while he got down from the carriage. He ran up the stairs and was hit with the sounds of crashing and screaming without his better judgment opened the apartment door. 221B, just like in the papers.

To his astonishment, the place was trashed. Books, instruments, broken glass, and various liquids thrown across the hardwood. The sound of the woman’s screams made his stomach drop. Sounds like maybe someone else was hired, in case she went the other way or something. With a heavy sense of guilt, the man turned and shut the door behind him. He ran down the street leaving the carriage there. Maybe whoever else was on the mission would go back for it.

Thinking one last bitter thought about his family, he got on the next train out of London. He sat on the train and said a prayer for the poor woman, pledging never to get involved with such things again.

#sherlock holmes #Enola holmes #Sherlock holmes #henry cavill #Sherlock Holmes X reader #Henry Cavill Sherlock x reader #Enola Holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes oneshot #enola holmes oneshot

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inevitably-johnlocked · 7 months ago

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Hi hi! This seems to be a lot less common than John having anger issues, but do you know any good fics in which Sherlock flies into a rage? Possibly stunning those around him? Could also be meltdown fics! Thank you so much, and I wanted to tell you I really appreciate your blog! I have been enjoying your fic recs for years and years and I'm really grateful for that!

Hey Nonny!

Ohhh, good request! Closest I've got for you are the fics on my Cranky Sherlock lists:

Cranky Sherlock

Cranky Sherlock Pt. 2 | [MOBILE POST]

Those lists have some feral Sherlock fics on it :) AS WELL, I have a few fics on this Community Recs list you might like too

Nothing immediately comes to mind otherwise.

Anyone have something they want to offer to Nonny??

#steph replies #chatting with nonnies #johnlock fic reqs #cranky sherlock fics #angry sherlock fics #feral character fics #help steph find fics

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swissmissficrecs · 1 year ago

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Johnlock fics I read in 2023

This is everything I read in the Sherlock Holmes fandom last year that made it into my bookmarks. So while I may not have read enough to make a selected "best of" list, consider these the ones that made it past all my internal selection criteria and are deserving of a spotlight. A few of these were completed prior to 2023.

A Case of You by Silvergirl (17K, M, Johnlock, Sherlock/OMC) Sherlock is marrying an American, and at the rehearsal dinner, best man John makes a drunken love confession he doesn’t remember the next day. Badly hungover, John can't find anyone to tell him what the hell happened to the wedding, where the grooms are, or how he can put it right so that Sherlock can be happy. But what if he's dead wrong about what will make Sherlock happy?

A Midnight Clear by khorazir (16K, T, Johnlock) It’s Christmas Eve, and Sherlock is working. Because that’s what he does. He doesn’t need Christmas, or holiday cheer, or even company. He’s fine on his own, thank you very much – until a series of strange encounters on his way back to Baker Street makes him reconsider.

A Story That Is Almost, But Not Quite, Entirely Unlike Blue Carbuncle by Iwantthatcoat (16K, M, Johnlock) It’s the most wonderful time of the year, and the Holmes Family is all set to have one of those unimaginable Christmas dinners— but the game is afoot, as Mummy’s friend is caught up in a Christmas mystery.

An Elegant Solution by ArwaMachine (19K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock finds himself unspeakably aroused by the idea of John with another man. Problem is, the only man Sherlock will permit be with John is Sherlock himself. Seems like an unsolvable problem. ... or is it?

An Ocean Away by westernredcedar (14K, T, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes has been gone for twenty long years, time enough for John Watson's daughter to make it all the way to Harvard University.

Avast Ye Merry Gentlemen by StellaCartography (10K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock is not a Christmas person. John decides it's Christmas that needs changing.

Bright Blue Ink by 13_33 (13K, G, Johnlock, Warstan) When one of my patients asks me about my relationship with Sherlock Holmes, the great detective, I answer this: I am his chronicler, his assistant in solving crimes, his confidant and friend. Of course, all these terms hold true, now as then, at the beginning of our shared history. But just as in a family portrait you can only see the put-on smiles and never the real faces of the people, they were only part of what made up my true relationship with Holmes. I know him, I then add; I know him well. [ACD]

Deductive Reasoning by cormorant (8K, T, Johnlock) John finds out that Sherlock has assumed for a while that their relationship was romantic, and feels like maybe he should have been notified about that.

Doting Husbands by Calais_Reno (16K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock takes on a new hobby: writing a story. If only something would happen! Takes place a year after the ending of Wooing Sherlock Holmes. He and John have been married for a year, still retired, living in Sussex.

Full Mount by ArwaMachine (54K, E, Johnlock) After Sherlock unceremoniously returns from the dead, John finds himself inexplicably angry all the time. So he does what any emotionally-constipated British man does: he joins a Mixed Martial Arts gym. As John throws himself into the sport and joins in on underground no-holds-barred brawls, situations arise that just might force John to face what is really going on underneath all the rage.

Indefinite Lines by ArwaMachine (298K, E, Johnlock) When two lines, inclined towards each other, are extended indefinitely, it is inevitable that they meet. Upon meeting, the lines become something new. Together. Perhaps it’s been like that from the beginning for Sherlock and John—their lives weaving together, inclined towards one another, moving closer and closer to something greater than themselves.

Live from the Morgue by disfictional (8K, E, Johnlock) Molly interviews Sherlock on her podcast, Live from the Morgue. John listens.

Lost In A Good Book by khorazir (68K, M, Johnlock) After chasing a criminal into a poky second-hand bookshop, John and Sherlock find themselves not only stuck in the building, but in L-space itself. With things still raw and unsettled between them after the events surrounding the Culverton Smith case, this adds another dimension to their predicament, which not only consists of finding a way out of the shop (while avoiding getting murdered by the criminal), but also to finally address the issues between them.

Nightjet by khorazir (22K, M, Johnlock) Officially deceased for eighteen months and still looking for the last remainders of Moriarty’s criminal empire, an exhausted Sherlock boards a night train in Germany to bring him to his next hunting ground. Due to a mishap with the sleeper cars, he is forced to share a compartment with a stranger – who turns out to be not quite as strange as Sherlock thought. The universe isn’t lazy, after all …

Nothing to Celebrate by DiscordantWords (30K, M, Johnlock, Warstan) Sherlock Holmes is back from the dead. Things only get worse from there.

Our Ghosts And This by LipstickDaddy (12K, T, Johnlock) An epilogue in three acts.

Primavera by Berty (9K, T, Johnlock) Italy in the springtime is as romantic as it gets but is it enough to free unspoken words and feelings after years of silence?

Salut d'Amour by ecoutes (11K, G, Johnlock) Despite Holmes claiming that my narrations of our cases were tainted with sentimentality, his preferences in music, I learned, were awfully romantic. [ACD]

Spare Parts by Raina_at (63K, E, Johnlock) Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them.

stirringofbirds between my arms by NotusLethe (18K, E, Johnlock, Enola/Tewksbury) Over the years, John Watson gets to know his new flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, and the man's clever ward. [Enola Holmes]

Stretch by illwick (13K, E, Johnlock) Sometimes the lines get blurry. [Part 35 of a BDSM established relationship series]

The Adventure of The Reluctant Docent by mydogwatson (23K, T, Johnlock) Someone is killing the docents of London. Sherlock is on the case when he meets a very interesting docent.

The Case of the Freudian Dick Pic Slip by expoduck (11K, E, Johnlock) John accidentally sends Sherlock a dick pic he'd intended for another man.

The Mystery of the Missing Metallurgist by rudbeckia (14K, M, Johnlock) A young wife engages Holmes to find her missing husband. Lestrade thinks the man has absconded to America, but Holmes rises to the challenge of Proving Lestrade Wrong. The case turns out to be far more complex and dangerous than they first thought, and Holmes sends Watson to secure Lestrade’s help in bringing a criminal gang to justice. When Holmes gets injured, Watson realises where his heart lies and a little lighthearted banter leads to a tentative confession. [ACD]

The Silence Between the Notes by J_Baillier (44K, M, Johnlock, Viclock) Lieutenant John Watson's days in London are painted in shades of grey after losing both his military career and his family. Could an unexpected request to travel to Vienna to track down the errant son of a wealthy family break the monotony?

The Wizard of Baker Street by Calais_Reno (23K, T, Johnlock) In which Sherlock is a wizard under a curse and John spends a lot of time as a cat.

‘tis the damn season by chrysanthemumsies (22K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock and John travel to Edinburgh to catch a homophobic serial killer in time for Christmas. They figure out how to use their words, more or less.

Trapezoid by SilentAuror (27K, E, Johnlock, OMC/ OMC) Corey Graham invites John and Sherlock to visit L.A. to consult on a project… at least, officially.

Yorkshire by lurikko (8K, E, Johnlock) They're in Yorkshire, in a house in the moors, for a case, only Sherlock keeps touching John. [Omegaverse]

#rec list #best #master list

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meetinginsamarra · 3 months ago

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My Sherlock Whumptober Fics

I am slaving away to get as many prompts done in advance as I can for this year's whumptober event.

"Take My Broken Love" will be a HLV fix-it.

Here is the cover as a teaser!

++++

In the meantime, if you have not yet, go read my two earlier whumptober fics!

++++

Learn My Scars (2022) is a TEH fix-it

After being thrown down and strangled, Sherlock leaves John in the restaurant, angry and deeply hurt. When John follows Sherlock to 221b, he learns that Sherlock's scars have not been acquired by “gallivanting around” for two years.

++++

Slowly Suffocating (2023) is a TLD fix-it

Getting suffocated took some time. Enough time for Sherlock to ponder what went wrong. Hopefully also long enough for John to arrive and rescue him. Culverton Smith applied more pressure, impatient to turn Sherlock into a dead thing.

++++

Happy pain to you all!

#my sherlock fanfics #sherlock fic #slowly suffocating #learn my scars #meet_me_in_samarra on AO3

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pistatsia · 1 year ago

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Marc Snuffy: the one who's in control

my Snuffy & Lorenzo fic using this characterization

Snuffy is the epitome of the word 'control'. From his motto to the use of his body with its perfect, calibrated balance on the field in the form of jiu jitsu (elements of which were also utilised by logic genius Sherlock Holmes in Conan Doyle's fictional style).

Snuffy controls everything from the individual strengths of his players to their place in his strategies, while also building all of his logic on a solid, confident base: for example, when constructing his team at Ubers he goes by the club's tradition and builds it on defence rather than attack. Even Lorenzo was raised by him to be flexible and adaptable (and most importantly, with the understanding that the most important thing is not to win, but to live), which can be seen in his attitude to the game - both serious and entertaining at the same time. And capable of accepting both losing and winning with dignity.

He controls even personal relationships, clearly defining the conditions for both sides, their benefits and losses - where it would seem that there should be no room for formalities. And if about Barou this could be hardly regarded to the football, then with the starving Lorenzo everything is a bit more complicated.

And I think it's obvious to everyone that this not entirely healthy level of control, going far beyond the boundaries of dedication, grew out of his trauma from Mick's death and their failure.

It's evident even in his relationship with the characters closest to him, Lorenzo and Barou. Through them both - two people so similar to Mick Moon (Lorenzo in appearance in his homeless era, Barou in both appearance and personality) - Snuffy recreates his trauma in an attempt to rewrite it with a happier ending. The kind of thing that Barou gets a glimpse of and is rightly angry about.

Of course this is hardly fully realised, only partly - in life, for example, kids who were bullied in their childhood sometimes become teachers. And then they stop the bullying near them as working adults, giving the new kids the happy ending they once deserved. And that's exactly Snuffy's case: he saves his players from a fate he himself couldn't avoid. He's willing to keep them as safe as he can control, growing them in almost hothouse conditions, which is exactly what Barou hates. So much so that he's easily willing to take the blame if they fail.

But at the same time, which makes perfect sense for such a person, Snuffy hates it when things get out of control, especially when there is deliberate sabotage - which is actually what Noa is teasing him about. I'd even go so far as to say that Snuffy is the kind of person who can only focus on a far-reaching goal by completely ignoring the unimportant things along the way - for example, he saved Lorenzo's life, but it seems they never talked about the fact that he didn't have to play football for Snuffy to love him, and that "worth" of his isn't that important.

Remember how Snuffy reacts to Barou's attempts to get out of his control and break his patterns: he's full of cold fury. That look is far scarier than shouting and punishment.

Because through Barou's prism Snuffy sees both his and Mick's paths. And most of all Snuffy is terrified of falling back into that helplessness - when he wasn't prepared for the event that broke his life in two. An event over which he had no control.

But it would seem impossible to be prepared for such an event. It's like a natural disaster and a terrorist attack - it's something that tears the usual fabric of life apart.

But when has that ever stopped anyone, right?

So Snuffy, in the moment of tragedy that destroyed his past, felt that he had a duty to anticipate everything. He had to know how and where to act, find the right words for Mick, save the careers of both of them, and basically hold the world on his shoulders so that it wouldn't break them apart.

It's terribly cruel and certainly unfair upon himself - but that's the way trauma works.

And that's why the journey he takes with Barou's help is so satisfying and liberating. Blue Lock does show overcoming one's traumas and chains visually and vividly very well - and how, with Barou's help, Snuffy was able to transcend his limitations, rising like a phoenix from the ashes, is perceived both visually and consciously, because it's relatable.

Because a person who is able to prepare for everything, to expect both loss and failure in advance, who knows exactly all his skills and advantages....

...also clearly sees the limitations of his body and mind. He simply cannot go beyond them - because he controls himself so much that he unwittingly limits himself, almost self-sabotaging - just to stay on predictable, familiar ground.

Logic is incapable of improvisation.

And this is what Barou is talking about - and what he teaches Snuffy anew, re-igniting his desire to live and play.

He shows Snuffy again that both life and football are made up of unpredictable moments - those where you are happy that something unexpected has happened that you weren't waiting for, those where you amaze yourself by going beyond your limits, those where you are happy and at the peak. Those where you need logic, but where you can't build your victory and happiness on it alone. Because happiness is in illogicality and unpredictability.

These moments are the things a person's destiny consists of.

The moments that Mick Moon lived for.

And the moments for which Marc Snuffy survived and rose again.

#marc snuffy #don lorenzo #blue lock analysis #bllk analysis #bllk #blue lock

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writingriver001 · 6 months ago

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I write and I'm taking requests 💙

Hello! This post is just fandoms/characters I'll write for, It's summer and I need to do more writing <3

I'll also be adding boundaries for what I will and won't write, with a little about me at the end.

💙 Fandoms and Characters 💙

Obey me! Shall we date? ❤ (Not Nightbringer, sorry)

Lucifer

Leviathan

Asmodeus

Luke (PLATONIC. HE IS MY SON Y'ALL)

I haven't gotten past lesson 17 and had to restart the game~ I am okay with spoilers, and writing the other characters if you can just give me some information on how they act! (Don't wanna write them badly)

The Arcana 💜

Nadia

Asra

Julian

Muriel

Portia

Lucio (May not be the best)

Morga (Lucio's mother)

Nazali (Nadia's sibling, doctor)

Nadia's parents

Valerius

Last Legacy (Fictif) 💙

Felix

Anisa

Scylla

Sage (If I have advice on how he acts?)

Six of Crows 🧡 (I am not too confident on this, sorry)

Kaz Brekker

Nina Zenik

Wylan

Jesper

Please ignore me forgetting their last names I can't be bothered to google

Stardew Valley 💚

Harvey

All the other datable characters (I will have to research, but stardew is brilliant and I absolutely will)

Doctor who 🖤

11th Doctor

15th Doctoe

River Song (My wife guys)

Dream Daddy 💛

Damien

Mary

Hugo

Matt

I might be planning a series fic with this an my ocs

🤍 What I'll write (Limits) 🤍

Yes ~

Fluff

Romantic

Platonic

Headcanons

One shots

Series

Character x Oc

Character x Reader

Character x Character

Lgbt+ (Including Polyamory (Is that right?))

AUs

No ~

Non-con/Cnc

Underage

Anything illegal

Just have common sense pls 🙏

I can try ~

NSFW (I'm asexual and have never done that shit, but I can try guys <3)

Characters in fandoms listed that I am unfamiliar with (For this I need you to tell me about how the character would act in your opinion, just a sentence or two)

💜 About Me 💜

Agender, Asexual, Lesbian I suppose. Autistic as well, I have a wide range of interests (Professor Layton, Moriarty the patriot, Sherlock, etc...)

I like sharks.

I am willing to write anything (within reason) please don't hesitate to request~! If I feel uncomfortable, or don't want to write it, it's simple. I just won't, I won't be angry, or upset for you requesting something, and I will always try my best to do it 💙

I struggle writing speech, and things may be out of character but I promise I'm trying my best.

I am always okay with people giving me advice! Just be polite about it I'm fragile I will cry <3

PLEASE ASK QUESTIONS ABOUT MY OCS.

They kinda work in any fandom. Are they kinda main character vibes? Yes. Leave me be, I'm not harming anyone and I never originally planned to share them 😭

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futureplayboibunnie · 2 years ago

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Hello! I really luv your work so maybe could you do more smutty sherlock stuff? Maybe dom!sherlock and a reader with a praise kink?

‘Distraction’

Sherlock x fem!reader

- I’M BAAAACK w another smutty ass sherlock fic. i swear all my sherlock fics are always so long, i need to get a grip but i really enjoyed writing this one. love u xx

Sherlock's mouth was twitching and his mind was in a constant state of strained unease. The world was asking too much of him and it irritated more than anything, Mycroft was breathing down his neck with a mountain load of cases he would never even get around to looking at and sometimes Sherlock just wanted to kick someone in the teeth, feel the blood pumping through his veins in a way a lousy case couldn't satiate. He was angry, annoyed, restless and uneasy.

Sherlock put himself in that situation though, he was being a hermit hiding out in his flat and he didn't even let John come in to entertain him- Sherlock could only think of you.

This was bad. He was in demand...but he didn't know what he was demanding for…you? He didn't know how to control his emotions, he felt something heady and particularly intoxicating about you, he was almost drunk off it. You were insatiable and it piqued his interest, you were a curious little thing, always poking your nose in places it didn't belong- including just Sherlock. Sometimes he just wanted to scold you for being too daring and risky, he didn't like the idea of you putting yourself in a dangerous situation for the sake of it...but you liked the danger of it all just the way Sherlock did. He didn't like that at all, it was like you could see through him in a way no one else could.

Sherlock knew you wanted him. It was obvious by the way you would eye fuck him in socially inept situations, in a crowded room- he admired your callousness although deep down he wanted to put you in your place. His accolades made you blush, his praises made your eyes gleam slightly, you loved him complimenting your work and he knew it was a big weakness within you. Your breath halted everytime you were near him and your mouth would pry open slightly and he had to surpress the urge to close your pretty little mouth for you- it was adorable and distracting at the same time. The universe was determined to pull him next to you...or was that Sherlock himself admitting he wanted you...in more ways than one? The calculations of it didn't make any sense and it was clouding his head, he didn't know how to make any of this go away, if only he could show you instead of talk.

You were bored of his moping, you wanted him to have some fun with you on another case and it was to cheer you up more than him. You just wanted to know what he was up to, Sherlock was always up to something, in a grey area of nothing inherently bad but nothing inherently good. Although he wasn't allowing anyone to visit him, you took it upon yourself to tease him out of hiding. You didn't really care for the ramifications, you never did.

You trodded up the stairs of his flat and you open the door slightly to let yourself in. Sherlock was pacing around, messing with the multiple experiments he was conducting at the same time. He was just trying to take his mind off of you, but these little thoughts kept meandering into his head.

You. Just you.

Sherlock heard the tremble of your breath first and he could practically hear your raised eyebrow at his strange but not infrequent behaviour- it was endearing. He got up from looking at his microscope when he heard your footsteps enter, he scrambled to look at your face again and it was etched in judgement but at least it was that of endearing judgement. He felt his ego straighten up, Sherlock couldn't remember the last time his ego was shaken, he was always so sure of himself but you obviously had to fiddle with things that best be untouched. Including Sherlock's innermost desires.

‘’You've been busy.’’ You remarked with a quirked eyebrow and a small smirk.

‘’Get out, I'm still busy.’’ Sherlock said breathlessly and it made him straighten his posture, he didn't like how uncertain and certain he sounded at the same time. He definitely didn't want you to go, but like always he had to act as if he didn't care for anyone or anything...especially something as useless and pathetic as desire and sex.

God he really wanted it though. You were wearing a skirt.

He could just hike it up and easily…

You interrupted his wayward thoughts as his blank face met yours.

‘’You're not busy, you just want a distraction. Any other day conducting this many experiments would've made you lose your mind. How can you be so detail oriented when you've got so many things going at once?’’ You walked around the room, tapping on the things Sherlock wouldn't let anyone touch. He was actually thinking of an answer to your question, though.

‘’I multitask. It can challenge narrow minded people.’’ His eyes thinned as he squinted at you intently, you twirled around and you met him with a knowing flirty half smile, scoffing at his insult.

‘’So snippy, need a distraction? Got another case.’’ You offered as you walked over to him to stare into his dark cerulean eyes, Sherlock was glaring down at you as your face was near his.

‘’I'm already distracted.’’ Sherlock admitted way too hastily and it made your eyes prick up.

Sherlock Holmes? Distracted? You were half joking when you said he just wanted a distraction, but he was? Even though your eyes were widening in surprise, you couldn't help but provoke him even further. You felt incredibly special seeing him so frail.

The things you wanted him to do to you was unspeakable and you felt a heated blush creep on the back of your neck and your cheeks.

‘’Wow. I never thought I'd live to see the day.’’ You smiled at seeing his hubris crack before you.

‘’Yes. It's a novelty for me too.’’ He said plainly, trying to hide and feign his hidden desire for you.

‘’What's got you like this then?’’

‘’You.’’ Sherlock blurted, but it felt deliberate. The perfect opportunity to just finally admit with a heavy heart that he wanted you, feel the weight of his innate desire free from his broad shoulders.

‘’It's your fault.’’He muttered.

‘’My fault?’’ You repeated.

‘’Yes.’’ He breathed as his fingers fell and brushed against yours and you felt your heart halt in its beating, scoff catching in your throat.

‘’Who do you think you are?’’ Sherlock's lips were dangerously close to your ear and it made you still against him, body heat merging with one another as you slowly pressed yourself against him.

‘’Who do I think I am?’’You scoffed as you blinked up at him, being a flirt as always. ‘’What about you….Sherlock.. what do you want?’’ Your voice was low and less immediate, stretching out whatever this was as a means to revel in it.

His hands travelled to cradle your face softly, large hands feeling the skin of your cheek as his thumb grazed the soft pink flesh of your lips. Sherlock felt oblivious to the world around him when all he could see and feel was you in his palm.

‘’I want to feel you. Naked. Beneath me.’’ His words were potent, dense and you felt like you had to pinch yourself, it must be a dream. Your heart was pounding in your chest and Sherlock could feel your sweet breath fan his face, eyes fluttering a little as you registered his words.

Sherlock Holmes...having a dirty mouth...is something that felt fictitious and delicious. The man was divine, so intense and brutal when he wanted to be- exactly your type. Your mouth was dry, the functions of your tongue forgetting how to move as his stare was that of raw intensity and pure longing. Mind racing and unable to pump the breaks, you were wondering how he would be in bed as of this moment. It wasn't an infrequent thought but you never in a million years thought it to be a reality, only to be conjured in your wildest and wettest dreams. You contemplated if he would be a dom or sub. It honestly could be either, he was so damn unreadable, you didn't know what was going on in that beautiful mind of his. You were keening to find out. The posh twat always loves the divine feminine dom, maybe that's a clue. Although, the way his eyes were scorching into yours made all of your thoughts draw to a blank.

‘’Are you going to talk sweetheart or are you just going to stand there gawking at me so vacantly?’’ His fingers jutted your chin up so he could make you squirm.

Sherlock loved it when he got that bodily reaction from you, it just confirmed that it was definitely not one sided and you were thinking of the lascivious things that best left unseen.

‘’I think I'm enjoying my mindless gawk thank you.’’ You flirted but he wasn't in the mood for any of your games. He's come to love that look in your eyes, the one of need, desire, to put it so crudely- eye fucking. Sherlock grabbed you by the cheeks, his fingernails indenting into the skin of your face, you were taken aback when he finally made his intentions clear. You honestly thought this was a part of a sadistic sort of experiment, but now it was actually piecing together- he wanted you. Sherlock Holmes wanted to undress you, feel your skin, fuck you in his bed.

‘’Don't be difficult, you surely can't be after your incessant need to catch my attention. Well, consider my attention caught...I'm simply asking because it's polite. Do you want me to put you out of your misery and make you finish or not?’’

‘’So vain.’’ You muttered, chewing on your lip slightly unsure of what to say without sounding like the thirstiest person ever.

‘’Do you want me to fuck you on the stairs because right now I will.’’ Sherlock was deadly serious, he didn't care if it was uncomfortable for you, he would take you in any shape or form, pin your hands behind your back, pull your hair make your brain melt with how good he made you full but you were still staring at him blankly.

‘’For fucks sake.’’ You finally breathed out before colliding your lips to his.

Like two magnets, like a moth to a flame- you simply just couldn't resist each other. Your fingers were in his hair as your body moulded to his, Sherlock was also quite surprised with himself, he'd never let anyone touch his hair but when you tugged on his curls he let out a delectable hiss. He really liked that. He wanted you to do it again. His kiss was passionate, certain and beautifully cruel.

‘’Tell me you want me.’’ You hummed against kisses, your fingers immediately crowning from his hair to his blazer and button down. Sherlock's hands were roaming around your body as if he owned it, his insanely large palm went to your ass and squeezed tightly over the fabric of your skirt. He was feeling brazen. His fingertips toyed with the hem of that skirt he just wanted to rip off, and felt at the skin of your ass under it. You shivered into his touch, every single feeling driving a new unforgivable sensation.

‘’I'll show you. Forgive me if I'm not polite about it.’’ Sherlock had never been this desperate before, to openly obey an order was foreign to him but you could pry just about anything out of him.

Sherlock clasped your hand and quite literally dragged you to his room, you had to suck in your squeals of delight, you couldn't believe any of this was actually becoming a reality. Your reality. He fucking wanted you. He slammed his door and pinned you up against it, lip to lip. Your moan echoed through his entire body, his soul rocked at the sensation. His lips found that spot behind your ear where your pulse was hammering, Jesus your heart was beating fast. It brightened his mood and amplified his ego.

You went to shrug him of his blazer but he got there before you. Sherlock ripped off your top with his bare hands, you inhaled sharply as the cool evening air hit your torso. He quite literally tore it off, the look in his eyes were that of ash and fire. Your lip quivered and your eyebrows tensed with that one look. The fact that he was the only one that got your legs wobbly and your heart stuttering was making him so insanely happy. The reaction to his kiss allowed hiim to deduce that you've been kissed before...but not often. The thought pleased him.

Nimble fingers went to unbotton his button down. You took your sweet time with this just to be a teasing little bitch. Your eyes went doe as you gave him a look of foax sincerity and sweetness

Oh...so that's how it's going to be.

You finally discarded it and the bulk of his biceps alone could crush you, his arms, his hands, his chest were so finely crafted he was akin to that of a Greek God. Sherlock pulled you from the door frame, he sat on the edge of the bed and you were standing infront of him.

‘’Strip for me.’’

He whispered, the fated words making the atmosphere damp and heavy and you enjoyed revelling in it. The way he said it made your mouth pop open slightly.

You were more than happy to oblige with his delicious demand. Your dignity was deteriorating with every moment you spent with him. Sherlock's blue eyes darkened as your fingers went to the zipper of your skirt, your intense gaze met with his, unwavering, downright carnal. His jaw clenched when you teasingly shimmied your skirt down your long, smooth legs. Your frame was fucking remarkable. Dear Lord it looked like you were crafted by the angels in heaven above. His stare fell to your feet, he smirked when he still found you in your impossibly high heels, he wanted to feel them dig into the small of his back when he finally fucked into you.

Sherlock wanted to paw at you like a filthy animal, his inhibitions fleeing him the longer he gaped at you. You bit your lip sweetly as your fingers fell to your back as you began the slow pace of unclamping your bra. You were so deliberate and he wanted to just fuck the pettiness out of you. Sherlock watched intently as you flung it to the other side of the room to care about later, your tits fell free and he just stifled the urge to grab you right now.

He just had to remind himself: patience is a virtue.

Giggling, your fingers hooked on the lace of your underwear and shimmied it down. He let out a scoff, almost entranced and confused at how beautiful you looked. Sherlock gripped onto your waist and tugged you between his legs, his fingers pinched onto the bare skin of your hips. His lips met with your soft lower stomach and he planted a kiss there.

‘’Beautiful...’’ He exhaled as he breathed in your intoxicating scent.

‘’So you can be nice.’’ You smirked down at him.

‘’Only to you. Only. You.’’ He said deadpan, you gushed when he emphasised the word 'you.' You tucked your hair back behind your ear bashfully as the waves of anticipation began creaking back into the airwaves. You weren't sure where he was going next with this.

Sherlock's grip daren't soften, he pulled you down onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow allowing your hair to sprawl out, he thought you looked like an angel- hair casting a halo like figure in your stance. He kneeled between your sweet thighs to stare down at you, face contorted in pleasure already. He hadn't even done anything yet, it made him chuckle lowly. Mocking you condescendingly but you didn't have it in yourself to care or argue.

‘’You've been begging for it haven't you? Just admit it. It's only us. Only you and I here...together. Don't be coy now.’' Sherlock was just revelling in your desperation and it made your insides sizzle and burn, it was almost unbareable. Your lips twitched as you flushed, unable to control how your body was reacting.

Sweet. Jesus. The effect this man had on you.

‘’You're quite the distraction.’’ You said meekly, they were the only words you could muster up. Your voice wasn't a reflection of your actions though, your hands had a mind of their own, flying to his zipper and roughly undoing his pants. Sherlock caught onto your wrist to stop you in your tracks, he would be lying if he said he didn't like the direction in which you were going in. Images of you choking on his cock flashed through the forefront of his mind, his breathing became heavier. His tongue glazed his lower lip as he let out a breathless scoff.

Yeah, maybe later.

‘’Ditto.’’ He muttered.

Sherlock pinned your hands against the bed beside your head, excitement thrumming through your veins at whatever delicious torture he was bound to inflict. His fingers pinched and palmed at your tits, a broken moan fell from your lips as his long thick fingers travelled down the skin of your stomach to your glistening pussy. You threw your head back. He swiped up and down before finally inserting a finger inside of your wetness, you squirmed under him as he bent down to kiss at the crook of your neck.

‘’Fuck...Sherlock.’’ You moaned out, physically incapable of keeping it in anymore.

‘’You can take it.’’ Sherlock reassured deadpan and impassive, almost like an

You huffed as he pistoned another finger inside of you, he was delighted with how wet he got you. It was an indicator of the amount of pleasure he was drawing out of you, his ego boosted tenfold. You exhaled as he finally pulled his fingers out, in the pale moonlight his fingers glistened. Giving him a perplexed look, Sherlock wanted to rattle you even more, drag it out, surprise you.

‘’Open your mouth. See how sweet you taste.’’ He chuckled, so obviously pleased with himself.

Your eyes widened slightly at his request but his hard glare made you believe that it wasn't a request but an undeniable demand. You couldn't say no to that look, that scorching, firey look. You opened your mouth and he was beaming at the sight. He stuffed his fingers into your wet mouth, suckling on his fingers to taste at yourself. Humming against his fingers, Sherlock felt his body buzz and his cock harden. You gawked up at him through your lashes, the look of neediness etched all over your face- the cherry on top of the cake, his fingers in your mouth. He wondered what you looked like on your knees. You let his fingers go with a pop.

‘’Good girl.’’ He praised and it made an incredibly obvious blush stain your face.

Oh, you loved that.

Your mouth slanted against his, tongues dancing against tongues as you felt your heartbeat hammering against your chest. Tugging his pants down, Sherlock's cock finally sprung free. You glanced down, eyes unable to comprehend how fucking big he was. It was curved, thick and leaking. You felt yourself salivate at the sight of it.

‘’Sherlock...please.’’ You begged and he decided to give you the mercy.

He pushed himself inside of you, clinging onto him for dear life. Sherlock burrowed and nestled himself in your hair and your skin, spiralling wih the fact he got you like this- this has to be a dream of some sorts. It simply cannot be real. Fingernails digging into his shoulderblades, he hissed into your skin as he rutted in and out of you. Your moans and groans creating a symphony of euphoria. Sherlock gazed into the vast planes of your glassy eyes, he could simply get lost in them forever. Your heels dug into his back and the pain was stunning.

‘’You make me weak...pretty girl.’’ Sherlock admitted breathlessly.

The whole world stopped. It felt like it was tipping on its axis. You made Sherlock Holmes weak. You couldn't fathom the power you held, you were drunk off it and it made you moan loudly against his lips. It felt like music to his ears.

‘’Sherlock.. you're a God.’’

‘’Not quite, but almost.’’ He teased as he kept up the brutal pace.

Sherlock just kept going and going. His libido was undeniably high. His stamina unrelenting. He was lost in the sweet sounds you made, the quirk of your body with every thrust was something he committed to memory. You felt yourself spiralling out of control. The intensity increased tenfold, the intimate eye contact the driving force of it all. You couldn't hold back. You were right at the edge. Euphoria hit you like a ten ton truck, waves of pleasure like lightning down your thighs; your knees buckled under the pressure as you gushed onto him, coating him in the generous amount of wetness he so easily illicited out of you.

‘’Stunning…’' Sherlock murmured before he was cut off by a gutteral groan rumbling from the insides of his gut. He stilled as he finished inside of you, completely and utterly spent. You grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his lips, curls wild as you carded your fingers through it.

Pants covered the room. Air thick with post coital bliss.

Sherlock rolled off of you and lay beside you in attempt to regain his breath.

But you were far from done. You darted your face to the side to remark at him.

Without thinking, you impulsively clambored onto his lap and his eyes widened in surprise. Fucking hell, you were insatiable. Your lips shattered against his again, his large hands roamed the expanse of your back and goosebumps littered your skin.

Sherlock spanked your ass and it made you rip your lips away from his.

‘’Christ. So insistent aren't you?’’

#sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock angst #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock fluff #sherlock smut

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