Sherlock One shots and Imagines

Missed me? - Moriarty x Reader

So, this is a little naughty. I got a request for some smut with our wonderful James Moriarty, but it always turns into my version of smut which still turns out all romantic. But I have tried. I hope that you enjoy.

(Y/n) hummed wearily as the hot water raced down her naked flesh. A river of refreshing liquid running down her face and in between her breasts as she attempted to immerse herself in the torrent of drops that streamed from the shower head. She had tried everything since he had had to go on the latest bit of business. Everything she could to take her mind off him. To take her mind off the taste and smell of him. To stop herself from thinking about his naked body pressed up against hers. His strong arms wrapped around her. To try and forget how much she missed the feel of him inside her. The exquisite noises he would make as the pair of them worshipped one another's bodies.

Damn you Jim Moriarty for being quiet so perfect. Damn you for making her need you so much. Damn you for not just letting Seb, or some other underling, deal with this new business of yours. And damn you for insisting that she had to stay in her home, rather than go out with you.

(Y/n) knew that there was no opportunity for love on his "business" trips. In fact, it was the last thing that you ever thought about when you were watching Jim's rivals for any unwanted movement towards a gun. Or making sure that the Yard's inept police force, weren't coming from around every corner. (Y/n) sometimes feeling as though their lives could end at any moment. But just to be near him would be enough. To see his perfect face and that wicked grin. To know that he was safe and coming home, would have been all she needed. But instead, here she was, frustrated, unhappy, and concerned. He said that he would be back in three more days. Three whole damn days. That was seventy one hours, thirty three minutes, and...........fifteen seconds away, and (Y/n) wasn't sure that she could last even one second of that, without losing her mind.

Everything seemed to make her need worse. Seb had been told to stay with her and appeared to mention James' name every few moments. Like he knew that her body was aching for that of her lovers. And was doing it just to torture her. Exercise didn't help. Her thoughts drifting to her beloved, and wonderfully sadistic and psychotic consulting criminal every time she tried to do something. The image of the sweat glistening on the skin of his naked back as he moved around the room. The thought of his touch, making her insides twist and turn in the most terrible way. Cold showers had just annoyed her, making her wish that her feared criminal was there to warm her up. She had tried to read. Yet every time she did, the dashing hero would become James. The killer, appearing in her mind's eye, like Mister Darcy emerging from the lake. His wet white shirt now see through and sticking to his flesh. The touch of her own hands and fingers, nothing compared to the gentle, yet passionate touch of her lover, despite her mind picturing him sweaty and breathless. His body resting between her legs as he looked down at her, lovingly. His lean muscles moving hypnotically, like those of some great cat, stalking its prey.

Suddenly she gasped. The feel of a familiar wiry chest pressed up against her back. His arms holding her tight, as a pair of soft lips kissed her neck.

"Did you miss me?" He cooed softly. (Y/n) biting her bottom lip and trying not to moan as his hands began to caress her form. Her body bucking as he took her breast in his palm. His fingers pinching and rubbing as her hardened nipple.

"Me. Miss you? Why would I do that?" (Y/n) sighed. Her own hands slipping down his slender thighs. It obvious that James had most definitely missed her. The infamous criminal, unable to stop himself from rubbing up against the cheeks of his girl's backside.

"Well, if you haven't missed me, I might as well go away again." Jim hummed, pretending to move away. A large smile spreading across his lips, as (Y/n) grabbed his wrist and pulled him back behind her. His lithe body pushing her up against the cool tiles. The hot water doing little to dampen the lover's ardours, as the criminal mastermind bit softly into (Y/n)'s shoulder. The man, not sure how much longer he could deny himself the one thing that he had wanted since he had had to leave.

"I have missed you. I just didn't want you getting a big head if I told you how much I truly had missed you. How much I've thought about you. How I've dreamed, awake and asleep, about just this thing. About you taking me. About you doing all those wonderfully sinful things that you know how to do. About you making me moan. Making me confess all my deepest, darkest desires as you show me what it is to be loved. Making me scream your name and beg you not to stop as we cum together." (Y/n) confessed. Her heart beating faster. Her stomach bursting into a thousand fireworks as she felt James move his hand between her legs. Her womanhood twitching. Screaming for more as his finger caressed her. A low moan coming from James himself, as his fingers found their warm, wet, wanton home. Every time he left, he felt as though he would never experience this again. So, each time he returned, he found it impossible to not give in to the primeval need to take what was his.

"Would you like to know what I'm going to do to you, (Y/n)? Would you like to know that I am going to continue to pleasure you with my fingers until you beg for me to make you cum. Then I'm going to have you kneel before me. Have you take me into your mouth. To lick and suck until I can't take anymore. Then, I'll bend you down, and thrust into you over and over again until you scream. Until you plead for me to allow you to release. Until you moan my name for the whole of London to hear. And then, and only then will we both cum." James growled seductively into (Y/n)'s ear. The breath catching in his throat as she took him firmly in her hand. Her palm and fingers moving effortlessly up and down the shaft, as she already knew that she needed to beg him for more than the two stiff fingers that were inside her. The feel of him, already making her weak at the knees and her mind foggy with lust and passion as her lover nipped and licked at her flesh.

It would be hard for others to imagine that the feared killer could be like this. So tender, so loving, so gentle in his own way. To others, James Moriarty was the feared and reviled Machiavellian psychopath. Dreaded by even the most hardened of criminals. A psychopath that felt no emotions. That cared nothing for the feelings of others. But in private, he was a man that knew just what he wanted in the most wonderful way. A man that knew just how to take it. A man that wanted to give as much pleasure as he received. And with (Y/n) he was able to do that. To be that. To not have to hide. She was everything he wanted. Desired, Needed. And he was never going to lose her. To anyone, or anything.

"I love you, (Y/n)." James groaned, as (Y/n) placed his rock hard cock between her legs. The consulting criminal sure that he would cum there and then as he ground himself against her form. Wishing that this moment. This night, never had to end.

"I love you too, James. Now, make me scream, darling." (Y/n) replied. Praying that business wouldn't take her lover away again, too soon.