Noncon, humilated, terrified Holmes!
anonymous
December 29 2011, 08:51:59 UTC
RDJverse! I already read a great fic in which Holmes is raped by Moriarity before they go over the falls. I want something more specific to my kink(s). Be patient with me because I get very specific and crazy
( ... )
Re: Noncon, humilated, terrified Holmes!
anonymous
December 29 2011, 08:56:31 UTC
Oh, and uh, if you wanna have Moran watching the whole thing in the corner, please do so. I guess it all depends on which scenario, the hook or last meeting scene, you're going with.
Re: Noncon, humilated, terrified Holmes!
anonymous
December 29 2011, 21:26:46 UTC
Concerning the question as to how brutal-- I want whatever's the realistic and what you think would be in-character. Whatever you feel Moriarty's character would do (because this character is new to me, so I think others would know better than myself on how to write him).
Question 2: No, I don't want it to be a phobia. Like you said, just the fear of the unknown since he's never done it and never even really thought about it before because he has no interest in sex whatsoever. It's more about not knowing what will happen and at the same time knowing _exactly_ what will happen, on top of the fact that he's completely overpowered and helpless (which he absolutely hates more than anything). So the second one of what you said. LOL Sorry, I should've explained it better but I bascially didn't know how. Thanks for considering this and I hope you find the time to do it!
Re: Noncon, humilated, terrified Holmes!rat_chanJanuary 2 2012, 01:36:39 UTC
Mmkay. Not finished yet, but I hope to have it up tomorrow at the latest.
There are just a couple of details I hope you or someone else tracking this thread can clarify for me:
-(this is the most important) Holmes was injured in the leg, too, right? I mean, I didn't imagine the scene in the box car where Watson was stitching or getting ready to stitch Holmes' leg?
-(this one & the next are not important, but I'll kick myself later if they prove inaccurate) What were Moriarty's exact words when he drapes the fur rug over Holmes' shoulders in the balcony scene?
-The chess table on the balcony: was it wood or metal?
Thanks for the heads up! That, along with a photo on IMDB and a clip on YouTube, helped me out a great deal!
I had to go back and edit a few things (more than once... Can't have Holmes gagged with his own bow tie if he's not bloody wearing it!! And I can't believe I forgot the gloves!) and then there were more interruptions (family) and distractions (the family TV) than I anticipated.
Sorry for keeping you and the OP waiting!!!! Check below!
Fill: Toppled (1/7)rat_chanJanuary 5 2012, 08:18:39 UTC
Hope this is worth your wait. Took a bit of work to get in most of what you wanted...
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"Here we are. Don't want you to catch cold." Holmes felt a shiver dance lightly through his limbs at the words. The indefinite threat looming behind their mild delivery lent them a wealth of meanings, none of them pleasant, that the individual words could never contain. A sharp chill shot down his spine in contrary response to the fur now draped over his shoulders. The icy menace of Moriarty’s form seemed to seep through the dark pelt from the professor’s hands, freezing Holmes more than the misty Alpine air. That cold (“fear,” his ruthlessly honest, analytical mind defined in spite of his pride’s denial) seemed to ice his vocal chords, preventing the witty response he likely should have been making.
Move away, he willed the insane genius behind him as the grip on his shoulders continued too long, too… predatory. The almost possessive curl of Moriarty’s fingers was disquieting, not to mention painful on his injured shoulder. The pain.
( ... )
Fill: Toppled (2/7)rat_chanJanuary 5 2012, 08:29:58 UTC
“Fight,” he mouthed around the gag when, finally, the only roaring in his ears and mist before his eyes were those of Reichenbach. Options? He assessed as he took more lucid stock of his predicament. Hands? His arms were tightly, if relatively painlessly, bound behind his back, wrists to opposite elbows with further knots squeezing his biceps when he experimentally tensed them. An odd choice, he mused briefly, not inescapable… (with time you may not have…) Feet? Only one leg was bound: his injured one, tied solidly at knee and ankle to one leg of the sturdy wooden table. Inconvenient, he thought deliberately, with an equally deliberate, slow exhalation he wished he could expel, along with the gag, from his mouth. The position of the bonds meant that, unless one of his captors was to foolishly move within easy reach, his one free limb was good for little except standing upon. Enemies?“A little more to the left.” Moriarty’s voice came, almost as if in response, from close behind Holmes’ chair. “Tipped up just a touch… There.” The words
( ... )
Fill: Toppled (3/7)rat_chanJanuary 5 2012, 08:36:17 UTC
"Not what you expected?" Rapidly Holmes assessed their reflections, eyes darting from point ("Professor's frame mostly hidden by my own") to point ("rope one inch in diameter, high quality fiber, excellent weave"), but continually drawn back to the vivid white on black contrast of Moriarty's gloved hand on his left hip. "Distressing, is it not?" His gaze snapped back to meet his captor's narrowed eyes as the professor released his hold on the ropes and slid his right hand slowly along Holmes' shoulder blade and around to the front. There was a sharp intake of breath and another wrench in the bound man's gut when that touch glided over his wound before stopping at his throat. "To not only find yourself outwitted again..." His head threatened to spin again ("fear, anger... mostly fear") at the words, at their half-soothing, half-mocking tone, and at the finger that had slid into his open collar to stroke at the vulnerable hollow of his throat. "But to not have the least idea of the manner of the trap into which you've fallen."
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Question 2: No, I don't want it to be a phobia. Like you said, just the fear of the unknown since he's never done it and never even really thought about it before because he has no interest in sex whatsoever. It's more about not knowing what will happen and at the same time knowing _exactly_ what will happen, on top of the fact that he's completely overpowered and helpless (which he absolutely hates more than anything). So the second one of what you said. LOL Sorry, I should've explained it better but I bascially didn't know how. Thanks for considering this and I hope you find the time to do it!
Reply
There are just a couple of details I hope you or someone else tracking this thread can clarify for me:
-(this is the most important) Holmes was injured in the leg, too, right? I mean, I didn't imagine the scene in the box car where Watson was stitching or getting ready to stitch Holmes' leg?
-(this one & the next are not important, but I'll kick myself later if they prove inaccurate) What were Moriarty's exact words when he drapes the fur rug over Holmes' shoulders in the balcony scene?
-The chess table on the balcony: was it wood or metal?
Thanks, and hang in there a bit longer!
Reply
- "Here we are. Don't want you to catch cold."
- wood
*squirms impatiently and waits for fic* ;)
Reply
I had to go back and edit a few things (more than once... Can't have Holmes gagged with his own bow tie if he's not bloody wearing it!! And I can't believe I forgot the gloves!) and then there were more interruptions (family) and distractions (the family TV) than I anticipated.
Sorry for keeping you and the OP waiting!!!!
Check below!
Reply
*handcuffs self to computer and waits for fill*
Reply
I hope those are comfy fuzzy cuffs... I've only managed 3 paragraphs so far and I'm going to Disneyland tomorrow!
>.<
Screw you plot exposition! I'm barely including you here (barely need you here) and still you torment me, making beginning so difficult.
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I HAVE SO MANY FEELS RIGHT NOW.
Reply
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"Here we are. Don't want you to catch cold." Holmes felt a shiver dance lightly through his limbs at the words. The indefinite threat looming behind their mild delivery lent them a wealth of meanings, none of them pleasant, that the individual words could never contain. A sharp chill shot down his spine in contrary response to the fur now draped over his shoulders. The icy menace of Moriarty’s form seemed to seep through the dark pelt from the professor’s hands, freezing Holmes more than the misty Alpine air. That cold (“fear,” his ruthlessly honest, analytical mind defined in spite of his pride’s denial) seemed to ice his vocal chords, preventing the witty response he likely should have been making.
Move away, he willed the insane genius behind him as the grip on his shoulders continued too long, too… predatory. The almost possessive curl of Moriarty’s fingers was disquieting, not to mention painful on his injured shoulder. The pain. ( ... )
Reply
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I'm not ( ... )
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