Tag: johnlock

decompositiondance:

I never paint fan art smut, because when I paint seriously I attempt at realism, and I feel so awkward and guilty for making the characters look like the actors in such positions.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t sketch it in my notebooks all the time… Because sketches don’t feel as weird.
I got bored and tried to colour one of my johnlock drawings (instead of studying, damn it). Nothing too explicit.

erinpaint:

The Sheath of A Sword” is a Johnlock fanfiction that I liked, please click here to view it if you are interested. Unfortunately, it is only available in Chinese now. I have come up with s series of artworks based on selected scenes from this work.

以下文字版权全属《归剑入鞘》by tangstory 
翻译：papaya_twilight

All rights of the texts belong to “The Sheath of A Sword” by Tangstory.
Translation by papaya_twilight

[0] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

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“Any comment？”John按下发送前抬起头看了看Sherlock——他知道这个结尾写得可能夸张了点，但是……Come on，那是他男朋友，他当然有权利在想赞美他时就尽情地赞美他。

“Well，虽然不知道‘Harry Potter挥动魔杖施展守护神咒’这事儿到底有多令人惊叹，”Sherlock突然笑起来，弯身在John额头上轻巧地吻了吻，“不过听上去不错。”

“Any comment?” John looked up at Sherlock before hitting the “submit”. He knew that the ending might be a bit over-done. But, come on, Sherlock was his boyfriend and he had all the rights to compliment him as much as he wanted to.

“Well, although I don’t get the greatness of ‘Harry Potter waved his wand and cast a Patronus Charm’,”Sherlock smirked and bent to kiss John’s forehead,”it still sounds good.”

ishipjohnlock247:

atlinmerrick:

Sherlock Tumblr Porn

There are all kinds of virginity.

There’s the never-been-kissed sort. John lost that at thirteen. Sherlock just before sixteen.

There’s the never-had-sex kind. John lost that at seventeen, Sherlock at thirty-four.

And then there’s, well, there’s the never had anal-sex kind of virginity and John and Sherlock both lost that within the same week, Sherlock first.

The morning they made this new kind of love John almost had heart failure. So scared was he of doing it wrong, of hurting Sherlock, of coming too fast, the good doctor quite nearly didn’t come at all.

Well he needed have worried.

Almost as soon as John slid slow inside his lover’s long body, Sherlock sighed, wrapped arms and legs around smooth flesh, and pulled his sweetheart close.

As John murmured endearments and diminutives—”It’s all right baby, breathe my love, it’s fine”—Sherlock actually giggled, drunk on equal parts pleasure, pain, and the sweet heat of John’s bare skin.

And as John thrust soft, slow, and so-very-right, the good detective’s gentle caresses became nails leaving pretty tracks along his lover’s back.

By the time Sherlock came—long before John—he was so overdosed on pleasure his toes were curled and he was quiet possibly speaking in tongues.

Yes, there’s all kinds of virginity, and too many are lost in ways far less sweet. But Sherlock, and later that week John, were lucky. They lost this kind to each other and the only regret either had was that they didn’t do it sooner.

Well that, and maybe it’ve been nice to record it.

Ahem.

   Previous story: A Study in Red

I wanted to write something for the so-very-gifted Kuuttamo. When I asked what she’d like she requested a story to go with this virgin!Sherlock drawing of hers that I love. This is that (slightly silly) tale. About tail, I guess.

perfection

reapersun:

SORRY THIS IS PROBABLY NOT WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING

i don’t even know if this looks all that dubious but i figure anything with moriarty is probably dubious 6A9

This takes ‘now kiss’ to to a bit of an extreme, but what do you expect with Moriarty?

random-nexus:

roane72:

sherlockxjohnrecs:

http://jlazuline.deviantart.com

What is—that shouldn’t—but—

*stares*

“So, tell me, Stranger, what brings you to be adrift on the open sea?  You must have recently come from Bermuda, but what is the meaning of this peculiar uniform?  I deduce that you are a soldier of some sort, but I wager there’s more to you than that.”  Captain Holmes smiled down at his rather stunned-looking captive.  “Mmm… I do so love a good mystery.”

I don’t even care; I will accept time travel as a reasonable option – regardless, I approve; someone fic it?  *looks pointedly at Random* (What, you’ve already started… *innocent smile*)  Edit: (And then this happened)

John jerks his head away when the – captain? He presented himself as one, set adrift in time.  Perhaps a madman who’d watched too many films – grips his chin, lifting his head up to look him over.  “That makes one of us”, he all but growls, pulling against bonds he knew were secure; he couldn’t help it, he was never one to accept capture, regardless of the circumstances.

He hadn’t quite gotten a handle on those, yet, in any case.  John eyed the other man over suspiciously; this couldn’t be some sort of elaborate scheme, it couldn’t, what would there even be to gain from it?  He was pretty sure he wasn’t dead, but that was only pretty sure, at this point.  “If you figure it out, tell me, yeah?” It’s just shy of challenging – he may be at a disadvantage, a pretty severe one at that – but he had no intentions of submitting.  This could be a fever dream for all he knew, but he had to treat it like reality until he learned otherwise.

John took a look over the ship again, just a brief glance, then met the other man’s eyes, firmly.  This was ridiculous, made no sense at all; it was strange enough when he woke in that strange room, all alone, but it only got stranger since his escape, such as it was.   He should be with his troop – had been with his troop – but the last thing he remembered before waking was pain and blood, screaming and confusion and a queer, screeching noise in his ears.  He’d been shot, he was sure, was fading fast even as he’d heard an unfamiliar voice muttering ‘too soon’, and ‘this isn’t right’, and an abrupt jerking dragging him away from where he’d lain.  He had started to consider this was some sort of dying dream when he tumbled out the door to find himself on the ocean without a wound or a clue how he’d gotten there.  He’d thought the ship passing, hours of staying afloat later would be his salvation – even if it was a strange, classical design; wooden, of all things – but he had been handled roughly, searched for… something, and bound, to be shoved aside on deck.  No one paid him any mind, then, until… this.  Whatever this was.

(Ball’s in your court, now, my dear~ *smirk*)