Sherlock X You - Tumblr Posts

One Night || Sherlock x Reader (smut below cut)

He showed up minutes to noon.

You’d been up late studying, pouring over textbook after textbook that you’d been too tired to bother putting away when you finally crawled into your bed in the young hours of the morning. Your flat was as cluttered as it had ever been with a disarray of notes occupying every surface the eye could see and beside your open laptop, a cold cup of tea sat forgotten amidst the middle of it all, half empty with a shallow ring forming on the wood beneath it.

Your eyes were slow to open at the sound of the incessant knocking on your front door and you stretched with a groan, your half asleep mind fumbling to remember if you were expecting company then. The knocking grew louder, faster, and only after determining that the visitor was definitely not going to stop did you throw your legs over the side, the wood cool cool beneath your feet.

You didn’t bother to move a single hair, despite how atrocious your bedhead surely was, and your eyes fought against every instinct to fall back shut and crawl back into your bed as you stumbled to the front door. Whoever it was had the indecency to wake you from your near-coma and as punishment, they would be forced to endure your unkempt state and most likely harrowing morning breath.

You had barely unlocked the bolts when the door flung open, nearly knocking right into you, and the tall dark blur of the consulting detective swept past you into your flat.

“Y/N, you won’t believe what I saw on my way here.”

You blinked at him, your mind suddenly on as high alert as it could be, and you pushed the door shut behind you. He’d yet to even spare a glance in your direction as he rushed through the room like a storm, his hand running along every surface he passed until he plopped unceremoniously to the spot you’d occupied most of the night before. You watched him fumble with the teacup and he took a sip before promptly spitting it back out into the porcelain.

“Gah, it’s cold.”

“Yeah,” you rasped in a tone that called him out for stating the obvious. “It’s been out all night. Why would you just drink from random cups?”

“Not random,” he mumbled, “it was yours. And I love tea. Can we make tea?”

Your arms crossed as the cogs in your head started to turn. Leaning against the arm of your chair, you peered down at him as he begun to flip through the pages of your various textbooks with both hands, eyes flitting wildly from one page to the next as though he could absorb all the different passages simultaneously.

Though, this was Sherlock, so perhaps he could.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?”

The question went ignored.  

“These are boring.” A look of disgust curled the edges of his lips as he moved on to the other open books spread out, finding nothing of interest in those either. “Why are you reading these, Y/N? They’re so boring.”

“They’re for my classes, Sherlock.”

“You already graduated,” he protested, at last turning those bright blue eyes your way. His brows furrowed. “These aren’t for forensics. Why are you studying anatomy now?”

“I enrolled in a nursing program.”

“Why?”

“Because—because I needed a change.”

“Change is upsetting.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “I’m not surprised you would say that.”

“Oh. Oh!” In an instant, he was at his feet once again, all but leaping over the coffee table to cross the room to you. His hands clamped onto your arms and he leaned in, like he often did when he had a breakthrough on one of his cases. “Y/N, you’ll never believe what I saw on my way here.”

“You said that before. So what was it?”

“I was on my way over here and there was a car parked down near Mr. McGillis’s shop—you know the one, with the knives and the clocks?”

“Yes. You took me there two weeks ago on one of your cases.”

“Yes! That one. Well you’ll never believe it but the car—a dog was driving it!”

You cocked your head with a most perplexed expression, one eyebrow raised in disbelief—and not because of his story, but rather the enthusiasm with which he was relaying it.

“I know! Isn’t that the oddest thing?” He let out a burst of laughter and his eyes shined wildly. “Well, of course it wasn’t really driving, but there were two dogs in the front seats and the small one had its paws up on the wheel—here, I have a picture. You have to see!” As he fumbled to reach into his pocket for his mobile, his grip on your arms fell and you took a step away.

“Sherlock.”

His hands abandoned his search and he looked at you once more, a stupid little smile that, in any other circumstance, would have been charming gracing his lips. “Y/N.”

You held out your hand. “Sherlock, give me your list.”

This time, it was he who looked at you in confusion. “My list?”

“Yes, Sherlock. Your list.”

Recognition hit and for a moment, he said nothing.

“I don’t have it,” he lied.

“Yes you do. You always do. Give it here.”

“No.”

“No?”

Like a petulant child, he crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his chin.

“If you want it, you have to take it from me.”

You eyed him up and down, reading everything from his posture to his stubborn glare and letting out a resigned sigh, you took a step forward. Your hand slipped into his pocket.

“It’s not in there.”

You glanced at him. “Then wh—“ As your understanding took root, you drew back and glowered. “Sherlock.”

“Go on, love. Take it.”

He was challenging you, his eyes glinting playfully—dangerously—and he pulled the corner of his lip between his teeth with a smirk. You took another step forward as he lifted back the side of his coat and cautiously, as though you could be burned, your fingers slipped into the pressed pocket of his trousers, brushing the crumpled note hidden inside. Before you could pull away, his arms wrapped snugly around you and all but pinned your body against his own, chest and legs and hips pressed firmly together.

“You’re so warm,” he groaned. “Are you always this warm when you’ve just woken up?”

“Sherlock, you’re crushing me.”

His arms loosened ever so slightly but he didn’t let go and he didn’t give you any space to escape from his embrace. It was enough, however, that you could pull your hand out from his pocket, clenching the crumpled paper between your fingers.

“My god,” he groaned again, his deep voice rumbling against your form in a most confusing and pleasant way, “you smell absolutely divine. How is it you always smell so delicious?”

His head dipped and you felt his nose bury into the skin of your neck, into your messy hair, and he hummed against you, sparking tiny shivers that wracked up and down your spine. You were nearly distracted enough to forget the entire purpose of standing so intimately close to him but with how oddly he was behaving, it didn’t stray far from your thoughts. You unfolded the note and did your best to smooth it with the little dexterity your single hand would provide.

As you struggled to see the words from over his shoulder, your eyes widened.

“What the fuck, Sherlock? Ecstasy?”

“It’s fascinating. I can’t believe I’ve never tried it before.”

“Sherlock, why would you take ecstasy?”

For a man who so seldom felt any strong emotions and even rarer still wanted to feel them, it was a most peculiar whim and you found yourself at a loss for words.

“For a case,” he mumbled. His face was still so close to yours, the tip of his nose drawing a delicate path along the line of your jaw. “The victim was drugged at a nightclub and the assumption is that it was the dosage that killed her. Obviously I had to adjust it for my stature.”

In your younger years, you had become well acquainted with it while you were away at university. You were no stranger to its effects or the dizzying euphoria that it created, but seeing that high experienced through Sherlock was jarring and alien to say the very least. You read over the number written out beside the long pharmaceutical name and your eyes widened again.

“I can’t believe you took this much. Jesus Christ—“ you tried to push away but his arms held you against him with alarming strength. “So you, what, figured you would overdose to see if it would kill you?”

“No,” he murmured so softly against your neck. “On the contrary, I’ve never felt so alive. Do people feel like this all the time?”

“When they’re high, yes. That’s what makes it so dangerous.”

“And appealing.”

It would have been impossible not to notice the way his firm hands began to slide across your back, fists curling and uncurling in the fabric of your sleep shirt as though it were an instrument he was all too eager to learn.

His breath fanned warmth against the shell of your ear as he gasped your name. “I feel so strange. And you feel so good.”

This was getting to be too much.

“That’s the drugs talking, Sherlock.”

Your hands rose up between you and as they slid over the smooth fabric covering his chest, he let out a moan that once again left you shivering, unsure if it was your body reacting to the proximity of your situation or if it was a thousand tiny alarms setting off at the sound.

“Fuck, it feels so good when you touch me.”

At that, you shoved him back with every ounce of strength in your body. He stumbled on his feet and looked at you in confusion—dare you say dejection—and his lip pulled down into a pout.

“Why did you do that?”

With the distance returned between you, you were able to clear your mind of the strange illusion he’d cast. Your hands fell to your hips, lips pulling into a most unpleasant scowl. “Damnit, Sherlock, how could you be so foolish?”

“Please.” In an extravagant motion, he waved the pesky thought away and his eyes remained locked on your form, raking up and down over and over in a slow way that made you feel far more exposed than you were. “I’ve done much worse than this.”

“Yes, as though I need the reminder.” Your eyes clamped shut and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

What were you going to do with him? How long has it been since you’d had to deal with someone this high on this particular drug—he might as well have taken Viagra with the way he was carrying about. You let out a sigh, mind searching everything you’d read about drug interactions since beginning your studies and everything you knew from before then, scrambling to remember if you had anything useful for the situation at hand.

You had nothing.

You couldn’t think clearly.

Your eyes snapped open, suddenly, when his face was buried into your neck again—only this time, his tongue lapped out, tracing a lazy pattern against your skin up to your ear and before you could properly prepare for it, his lips closed over the sensitive flesh of your lobe, nibbling and pulling and breathing in a way you never—not in a million years—would have expected from him.

“Sherlock.” Your voice was needy, pleading, but whether you were pleading him to stop or to keep going, you hadn’t the foggiest.

“You’re so bloody soft,” he moaned against you. “Softer than velvet. I wonder if you’re this soft everywhere.”

His warm fingers squeezed your fleece-covered thigh, running up and down with enough force to bruise and his other hand had somehow snaked its way underneath your shirt in your momentary distraction, sliding up and up and up along your ribs until he could very nearly—

“Sherlock Holmes, watch your hands!”

You all but jumped away from him, catching yourself on the edge of the chair to keep from falling backwards in the clumsiest way.

Focus. You needed to focus.

The man looked almost as dazed as you were sure you did and his lips were moist and red and if you weren’t so utterly astounded, it would have turned you on like nothing ever had.

Okay, so it did that anyway—

“I’d like to watch my hands touching every inch of you.”

Fuck.

When his lips stretched into a smirk once more, you almost lost it. You stepped around behind the chair and held your hand up, signaling him to stop before your hormones could cloud your judgement.

“Sherlock, stop it. This isn’t you and I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re high as a kite.”

He made that face again—the one that relayed the depths of his confusion, looking a breath away from upset with his bright blue eyes as wide as could be.

“But I want this.”

“Now you do. Tomorrow you’ll regret it.”

“I promise you I won’t.”

He took a step closer, around the side of the chair you hid behind, and your feet mirrored his to keep distance between you.

“No, Sherlock, please. Your not thinking straight. You need to go sleep this off.”

“Sleep is the last thing I need right now.” His voice was the embodiment of pure sex. He took another step and so did you.

“Then go take a shower. I recommend a cold one.”

“I’d be more inclined if you joined me.”

The thought crawled into your mind and made a nest of its own and for a single moment, you thought your feet might betray every rational thought you had and take him up on the offer.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You darted past him in a quick burst and plucked your purse from its spot beside the door.

“No. I—I have to go to work. I’ll be late for my shift.”

Sherlock stared at you, expression unchanged. “No, you’re lying. I may be ‘high as a kite’, as you put it, but I can still read you like an open book. Or open—“

“Nope.” Your voice pitched and you shrugged your purse onto your shoulder. “Not lying. Gotta go.” Your hand twisted the knob. Without sparing a glance back at him, you called out to him over your shoulder. “The towels are under the sink.”

You slammed the door shut behind you and lasted all the way to the stairwell before you fell back against the wall and let out a long-held groan.

What the hell was he doing to you?

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Hi Blue!

I'm new to your blog so I'm not sure whether you write headcanons. If you do, could I request some fluffy sfw dating headcanons for Sherlock and William from Moriarty the Patriot? If you can't/don't want to write it, it's totally okay.

Thank you in advance, have a nice day/night! ^^

- Blue Rose💙

Notes: Heyy BlueRose! Of course i write head canons! (actually i love when people ask me to write head canons) and I’ve been waiting for someone make this request💙😭 i love Sherlock and William sm

TW/CONTENT:sfw,fem!reader,dating Sherlock and William (separated) hc’s

Sherlock

Ok then your first meeting will probably have been at a crime scene

if he has known you as a "suspect" then he will probably be impressed by your character and perhaps even your habits since you will have to tell them exactly what you were doing during the time of the crime

In one way or another, he’ll understand what kind of person you are and he’ll fall in love with you before he asks you out on a real date that doesn’t include his work

But if you’re a cop working the case or, more excitingly, if you’re another detective working the case then expect a healthy spirit of competition from him

He’ll probably annoy you every two seconds while you’re thinking about a lead on the crime

"Oh are you thinking about those stains on the victim’s body? Needless to say dear, it was of a disease he had for a long time"

He will call you with nicknames as a couple (while you are not yet dating in that sense) just to annoy you and because he loves to see your reactions annoyed and/ or embarrassed.

"dear" and "sweetie " are the order of the day

when you two start to have real dates, these will probably be late evening dates at a bar while you talk about how the day went while drinking a glass of alcohol or juice, if you are teetotal

Or there will be long walks through the markets while Sherlock tries to spoil you a bit by buying what you want from those stalls.

watson will be the third wheel

Surely our detective will spend a lot of time with you since his interest has clearly become one of the purest forms of love for you

even if maybe at the beginning he would try to stay away from you because he has not quite clear what is this feeling that makes his heart beat hard every time you are near him

but give him time and you will see that he will be ready to live a romantic life, carefree and full of love with you

“so...i guess this is love”

William

there isn't a specific point where you two could have gotten to know each other, maybe at a gala? or maybe your first meeting was on a nice afternoon at the village

The fact is that the first thing William noticed and adored was your good heart

Helping, talking and making friends with everyone, whatever their social status is what he noticed from you.

He loves it, and he found you adorable😩

Most likely he will start a conversation with you, curious to know you better.

You will have a very pleasant conversation!

At first he didn’t think that his interest and sympathy for you would turn into love, but life is full of surprises, don’t you think?

In the beginning you'll met him for pure luck and case in the country, you two could not speak so much unfortunately, you both had your commitments after all

Once he understand his feelings for you he will start to ask you out and spend good quality time together

Perhaps the first times you were a little agitated- William is still a noble, he could have brought you in an elegant and luxurious place such as a restaurant 'for nobles'. So you knew that if he took you to one of those places you would have to do your best to feel comfortable

You were quite surprised when your dates with him will actually be quite simple and comforting

you two will breakfast at the bar with a good coffee and a croissant each or a carefree and fun picnic in the shade of an oak tree while watching the sunset while you two were feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries🍓💙

 strawberries were obviously prepared by Louis to help his brother as he could

After a couple of dates and realizing that your relationship is getting serious, he’ll take you to his house to meet his brothers

It will be a formal dinner but still quite fun, William has talked a lot about you to Louis and Albert, so they knew you enough to make you feel comfortable during dinner

then you will also meet Bond, fred and Sebastian

It has become William's custom to bring you a bunch of red roses at least once a month.

He loves to see your cheeks blush every time

“They always told me that red roses are the symbol of love, the more I look at them and the more I think of you"

I hope you like it!💙

𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙/𝙤𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙! 𝙊𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜<3

Manners (Request)

Sherlock x gn!child!reader, John x gn!child!reader

Genre: fluff

Request Description: Thank you for saying you’ll write for Sherlock, I appreciate it :) Could you do one where all the peeps are round for dinner (Sherly, Mycroft, Greg, John ect) and John invites his cousin round (like age 9) and she’s just like REALLY polite and even when Sherlock says something really mean from one of his deductions she just brush’s it off and forgives him for it and even Mycroft likes her (PURELY PLATONIC PEOPLE) and she asks to see the brains in the fringe and Sherlock is ECSTATIC

Warnings: none really

(A/N): the only warning here is really that i dont remember the sherlock characters THAT well. and ive totally forgotten who sherly is, so this fic must live without her hahaha

Keep reading

𝓓𝓪𝔂 14 - Solving A Case || BBC Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Sherlock insists that you visit him, but his motives are rather unclear.

Warnings: some undressing

Word count: ~ 800

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

A/N: the prompt for today is: Undressing

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson!" You shouted before going straight to Sherlock's apartment.

A completely unknown reason prompted him to contact you, asking you to go to his house immediately.

Sherlock walked down the front hall and glared at you, cocking his one eyebrow up, as soon as he heard your sweet tone echoing off the walls. "You're running late, Y/N."

As you tried to remove your scarf, you nodded. "I know, I am so sorry, it wasn't my fault..."

"You say it wasn't your fault?" He inquired.

"Of course it wasn't. They fixed a sidewalk on the way from my flat, so traffic was a little chaotic," you said finally as you removed your coat and scarf.

His frown had been replaced by a smile on his lips. "Don't worry, I'm aware of it, and I calculated that you might be late. Let us not waste any more time. Please follow me."

After throwing your stuff on the couch, you followed him quickly with an eye roll. "We were going to meet later anyway, so what's the big deal?"

Sherlock looked at you as soon as the door to his office closed behind you and said, "Undress."

Not sure if you heard it right, you blinked and looked around awkwardly. "Excuse me? What?”

"You heard me. Undress, Y/N," he repeated, looking at you.

As you took off your shoes, a look of confusion still appeared on your face. "Like, you want me to take off everything?"

Sherlock cocked his eyebrow at you. "Did I tell you to take your shoes off? I told you to undress."

"I wouldn't take off my skinny jeans with shoes on," you rolled your eyes and then smiled.

It hit you then - there was no doubt your dear boyfriend was eagerly awaiting tonight's date. Revealing your bra, you slowly took off your shirt. It was only a matter of time before your pants followed, revealing matching bottoms. "Sherlock, you might have told me earlier that you cannot wait to see me that much."

He walked to you and traced his fingers along the stripe of your bra, humming to himself. He put hands on your shoulders and slowly turned you around to take a look at your bun.

There was something odd about this, but Sherlock was always odd, so you didn't pay much attention, but when you didn't reach any good conclusions, you started to wonder. "Sherlock? What are we doing exactly?”

"I'm undressing you," he told you simply, pushing his hands beneath the straps of your bra, tugging them down your shoulders, cupping your breasts after.

You gasped and bit your lips, smiling at him. "Well, I can see that. You want to take stuff slowly today?"

"Maybe," his response was brief.

Playing with your bottom lip, you nodded, staying quiet, enjoying his touch.

Soon, his hands moved from your breasts down your body, through the stomach, until they reached your thong.

As his hand reached lower, you let out another soft gasp that filled you with goosebumps.

Sherlock's hand played with your thong, and soon he pushed the material down your legs, slowly and constantly, humming at the softest of your skin under his calloused fingers.

When you stepped out of the panties, you realized you were fully naked in front of him. Like every time, it made you blush. "Sherlock, stop playing with me."

He put hands to your shoulders and slowly caressed down them; his touches soft and delicate like a summer rain. "Good, good, very well." Soon, he turned you around and took one more glance over your curvy hips and fully breasts and thighs.

As you stared at the door in front of you, you were confused. Usually, Sherlock took things slow and unexpectedly, but this was getting silly.

Suddenly, he sent you a warm smile. "Ok, I'm done, you can get dressed, if you want, of course."

"What?" You asked quietly, looking at him. "Excuse me? What do you mean you are done?”

"I am solving a mysterious case. The deceased woman was your size and I had to check something. Thank you for helping me get the clue that the killer had to be left-handed."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to go touch the actual body instead of dragging me all the way here?" You asked.

"Why touch some random, cold Noddy when I have you in my reach, my beautiful?" Sherlock walked back to you and kissed your cheek.

"Well, it seems like your hobby," you grumbled, annoyed by the kiss. "But maybe you could take a little break?"

His eyebrow went up slowly and a cocky grin appeared on his lips. As Sherlock started unbuttoning his plain shirt, he nodded. "I like this idea, Y/N."