#jimxseb

[thesmartone]

Jim: How long are you going to be mad at me?

Sebastian: *looks at clock* 20 more minutes

[obsidians-predator-blog]

Ok, so my writing blog is exclusively marvel stuff, but this was a Christmas present for pr4villains and I liked it, so it's going here. The prompt was "Jim Moriarty with knives," and is characteristically dark. TW: for self-harm.

Twisted

The young man twirled the butterfly knife between his thin fingers, letting it cut patterns in the air, rather than into skin. As it whistled through the wind resistance, he chanted his own name to himself, in rhythm with the knife’s loops.

Jim Moriarty, Jim Moriarty, Jim Moriarty.

Sometimes he forgot.

It was a point of growing frustration with him. The characters, which he’d long worked hard to keep from bleeding into each other, had unexpectedly bled into himself. And while he—Jim Moriarty, Jim Moriarty, Jim Moriarty—hadn’t originally considered his own personality to be particularly important to his intellectual pursuits, he was surprised to find himself rather pissed at discovering it was slipping away.

It had been subtle at first. He’d come back from a con that had forced him to endure a falsified penchant for boxed wine. While his self had to fight past its gag reflex—Jim Moriarty, Jim Moriarty, Jim Moriarty—Garfield Hollands had savored the faint taste of cardboard.

The con had been a long one, only worth the pittance of payment because of how delightfully distracted it had left him, and he’d ended up sinking himself deep. Deep enough that, once Garfield Hollands was dead (along with everyone he knew), Jim Moriarty had found himself in a market with a box of wine between his re-manicured hands.

That particular market found itself burned to the ground a few months later, as a part of a complicated series of bank heists, where no money or valuables went missing whatsoever. The crime was never solved, although one up-and-coming detective suggested that the entire series of break-ins had been nothing but a cover up for the arson. He was promptly ridiculed and, oddly enough, also soon afterward found himself burned to the ground.

Jim Moriarty shifted the position of the knife loose between his fingers, and narrowed his eyes in surprise when he nearly lost his grip on it. He watched the blood well out of the resultant laceration across his finger, and stilled his half-minded twisting. He shifted the knife to his other hand, and quickly put the finger in his mouth before it could drip on anything valuable.

Unfortunately, Garfield Hollands had been the first, but not the last. Jim Moriar-Jim-Jim-Ji-Moriarty soon afterward found himself playing a character a little close to home. Also a part of a long-con, the identity of Daniel Hungate came to exist as a bored playboy who had recently discovered that leather shoes felt so much softer when they were made from the human skins of his enemies.

Even months afterward, Jim Moriarty, Jim, Jim, Jim Moriarty had found himself thinking fondly on the idea. What was worse was that Jim Moriarty also discovered that the thrill he got imagining skinned souls on his feet was a deeper thrill than he got imagining anything he himself had liked. By sheer mental force (and Jim Moriarty had considerable mental force to apply) the emotional fixture of fantasy had become more real than that of reality.

Jim Moriarty placed the knife on the end table next to him and took his finger out of his mouth. The bleeding from the shallow wound had stopped. Flagrantly unsatisfactorily.

He considered for a moment, and then unbuttoned his cuff-link, allowing himself to roll up the sleeve, one even fold of fabric at a time. He stared at the expanse of skin, its pallor accented by the room’s low lighting.

Of course, the entire thing had gone to hell once Jim Moriarty had identified the source of the emotional high. He began structuring his characters half around each case and half around some particular sought after visceral sensation. Once he’d found he preferred pieces of those transient lives over his own corresponding bits, he attempted a conglomeration. Many minds with one king.

King Jim Moriarty. He liked that. Or, some part of him did. Though he supposed he really ought to go by King James. Much more official, and the monarchy was all about officiality, He would know.

Jim Moriarty watched the blood well from the newly made cut on his arm. Funny that he didn’t remember making it—it must have been him since the blade was back in his hand, and there was no one else in the room—but he wasn’t complaining. Not with how beautifully that bright red stood out against the white flayed flesh.

How much better it would be with a deeper color.

The next draw of blade through skin was deliberate, but deeper, and the darker shade of red spilled over the edges to encircle his arm in a series of rings. He tightened his hand into a fist to watch the ring-rivers run wider.

He shivered in pleasure, feeling a new kind of heated anticipation. A new thrill, all the more welcome for its originality. This pleasure was Jim’s. Jim, Jim Moriarty, Jim Moriarty, Jim Moriarty, more Jim, Jim more Moriar-more, Jim Moriarty.

His mind was a degeneration of cacophony as he gripped the blade handle tighter and prepared to dig deeper.

The moment was broken by one Sebastian Moran, who entered the chamber without knocking at the urging of some sixth sense. The subsequent scene unfolded into a brief moment of action as Moran twisted the knife out of his employer’s grasp, wiping it across his own clothes to remove the blood, and then carefully retreated across the room to put the weapon away in the dresser.

The two men regarded each other after that,  each with masks of deadened expression. Eventually, Moran decided it was worth the risk of approaching, in order to tend the welling wounds.

He rounded the room toward the nightstand, simultaneously pulling the necessary items out of the drawer and bewailing the life that led to such a placement being a necessity.

Over his personal reflections, the servant quickly made his way back to kneel at his master’s side.

At the first touch of his boy’s hands against the sanctifying smears of blood on his arm, Jim Moriarty considered reaching out to snap that pretty neck. How dare he touch where he had not been invited?

But the cool skin of Moran’s fingers lay in contrast to the hot blood, and it was somehow a better contrast than the red-on-white of a moment ago. Rather than lashing out in anger, Jim Moriarty let himself relax against the back of the armchair, and carded his fingers through the hair of the young man on his knees.

There were so few things left in the world that Jim Moriarty actually desired. To remove one from existence in a fit of rage would be nothing but wasteful.

[somecleverreference]

Author: thebookworm214

Fandom: Sherlock, MorMor

A.N./Description: (So, we thought we were done, but we must thank bondageluvr for this chapter. She asked for more from this Verse, and I have to say I was a bit inspired by her WIP 'Cor Cordis' (GO READ IT NOW!).) Seb has a nightmare and Jim needs to comfort him. T for swearing and contemplative suicide trigger warnings. One-shot following "The Lost Chapters"

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Kinda typical plot, but it's well-written and I really like the whole series (you should go read it, but it's not necessary to understand this one) and... yeah, there's no real excuse for why I like this fic so much. It's just cute and shmoopy and makes me squee.

Also, it's 3AM, so I'm in the process of drinking a gallon of coffee and reading every marriage!fic I can get my hands on. And so far this is my favorite. The (fairly smutty) sequel is buried somewhere in my FF favorites, so I might ref that later?

[destielhasdestroyedme-blog]

I need links to MorMor fics because of reasons. I don't even care what kind of fics. Fluffy, AU, angsty, smutty I don't give a fuck. 

I just want MorMor. 

Help a fangirl out?　

[jimxsebfanfic]

>Author: Sidney Sussex

>Category: General

>Length: ~4000

>Rating: T

Sebastian Moran couldn't have chosen a worse time to fall ill.

[thesmartone]

Jim: Hey Seb, do you want to hear a joke?

Sebastian, trying to concentrate on shooting: no

Jim: Lol you want to, so here goes

[knickolas-pnackolas]

*sigh* So I'm in a writing sort of mood...

Fill my ask with prompts! I command you! XD Seriously though. Prompts would be lovely :3

[deandancingqueen]

Amazing stranger, if you see this, please respond! My internet connection broke! Oh God!!

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You: Seb Seb Sebby!!!! -JM

Stranger: Yes, Jim? -SM

You: Why did you touch my gun? -JM

Stranger: Oh, that was yours? Sorry, I was cleaning my guns. Thought it was mine. -SM

You: How can my gun be in your room? -JM

You: Oh! -JM

Stranger: Wait are we talking about the same guns? -SM

You: Yes, we are dear. For now at least. -JM

Stranger: I...Are you sure? I'm talking about my rifles. -SM

You: I know you do! Yesterday we played with my Browning, don't you remember? -JM

Stranger: Oh, yes. Now I remember. Fun time, yesterday. We should play with your Browning more often. -SM

You: Yes, we should. But then I need to remember to put it back to it's place... -JM

Stranger: I rather like it in my bedroom, Jim. You can always keep it in there, if you want. -SM

You: Tempting.. But no, I need it in my room. Sorry darling! We can play with one of your guns next time. -JM

You: Where are you by the way? In the house? I'm too lazy to get down in the living room and check... -JM

Stranger: Oh, alright. Keep it in your room. I'll keep my guns in mine. -SM

You: Don't be upset honey! I need it for safety reasons! -JM

Stranger: No, I had a job today. Big job. Working with a team. We finished up earlier and we're at a pub. I'll be home soon. -SM

Stranger: Oh, I understand, Jim. -SM

You: Okay... Well, pick up some food on your way... I'm starving.. -JM

Stranger: Yes, of course. What do you want? -SM

You: Anything will do... I don't really want to eat, but I may loose consciousness soon... Isn't food just boring? -JM

Stranger: When is the last time you ate, Jim? I suppose so, if a normal ordinary person has to eat. Rather boring. -SM

You: Don't remember... When it stopped growling, I forgot about food completely. But now I'm bothered by the dizziness... -JM

Stranger: Oh, Jim. I've told you before, I don't care how much you eat, as long as you eat something everyday. This is why you have to eat. I'm on my way home. -SM

You: I will eat if you feed me. That sounds fun enough! But not every day... Food slows down my brain... -JM

Stranger: If it gets you to eat, I'll hand-feed you. No, Jim. Everyday. Even if it's just a muffin or a biscuit. You need food. -SM

You: I can't really promise you anything at this point... Maybe you can persuade me further when you come home. -JM

Stranger: I'm not asking for a promise, Jim. I'll force you to eat, you know I will and you know that I can. I won't do anything to persuade you. -SM

You: You'll force me? Well, I'd like to see you try. -JM

Stranger: I'm sure you would, Jim. -SM

You: When will you be home? -JM

Stranger: Five minutes. I stopped at the grocery store and got a box of mac and cheese. -SM

You: That sounds... unpleasant.... But I have no other choice, do I? -JM

Stranger: Well, let's put it this way, Jim. Remember the time you got mad at me and left me tied to a bed for four days while you were away on business? -SM

Stranger: Picture that, except instead of dehydrating and starving, I'm going to force you to eat. -SM

You: I like everything except the food. Okay, I'll eat the bloody mac and cheese... -JM

Stranger: I expected you would. Good boy. I like when my Daddy (see, you be good and I'll flatter you) gives in. -SM

You: Oh, Seb, stop it, I'm blushing. But you'll feed me, not other way! -JM

Stranger: Oh, blushing? I like when you blush. Of course I'll feed you. Good boys make sure their daddies are fed and happy. -SM

You: You do, don't you? And I like you better when you're a bad boy. -JM

Stranger: I love it when you blush. Let me guess, because you can punish me? -SM

You: You guessed correctly. But you love when I punish you, don't you? You can easily make me stop, but you never do. -JM

Stranger: Damn straight I love it when you punish me. Daddies need to punish bad boys. Why would I stop you from punishing me when I deserve it? -SM

You: Oh, you deserve it! Every minute of it! Now get your ass home! -JM

Stranger: I'm nearly home, it's hard to ride a motorcycle when you've got a bit of a problem in the trousers, Jim. -SM

You: Yes, tell me about the problem in the trousers. I'm expecting you to handle my problem when you get here! -JM

Stranger: That'll have to wait, unfortunately, Jim. Food is much more important than sex. -SM

You: Oh, yes, I forgot about the freaking food... -JM

Stranger: Oh dear me, I've been naughty. Teasing my daddy. -SM

You: You naughty naughty boy! I will punish you severely! (well, after I eat... What a drag.) -JM

Stranger: I look forward to my punishment, Daddy. Look out the window, I'm home. Door unlocked? -SM

You: Yes, I think so.. -JM

Stranger: Sebastian strides up to Jim's room and holds up the bag. "Mac and cheese, love?" he asks, grinning cockily.

You: -Jim looks at him- ''If you insist. Come here!''

Stranger: "Am I in trouble, /Daddy/?" Sebastian snickers and drops the bag to the floor and walks over to Jim.

You: ''Oh, you don't even know how much'' -pulls Sebastian by his shirt, forcing him on the bed-

Stranger: Sebastian giggles and kisses Jim. "Well, you haven't shot me yet or tied me to the bed, can't be that bad."

You: -Jim chuckles- ''No, because that tying to the bed and feeding me for for days thing sounds terrible!''

Stranger: "Oh, I'd make sure you'd enjoy it, love. Chocolate and strawberries and all that other romantic crap other couples do." Sebastian smirks and licks his lips. "So what is my punishment?"

You: '' You are especially cocky today, aren't you? Don't make me gag you!'' -gets off the bed- ''Strip.''

Stranger: "You know you love it, dear. Gagging? Oh my. Sounds perfectly lovely." Sebastian smiles and gets up, stripping slowly and staring at Jim with a cocky grin.

You: -Jim gives him an evil smirk, then comes closer and kisses him, breaking the kiss a few moments later- ''No gagging if not absolutely necessary. I want to hear you beg.

Stranger: Sebastian smirks and nips Jim's lip, humming softly. "Beg? What makes you think I'm going to bed, Daddy?" He cocks an eyebrow and chuckles. "I don't beg, love."

You: -he leans and whispers in Sebastian's ear- ''Don't be so sure, Sebby dear. -then he bites his ear hard enough to feel the blood in his mouth-

Stranger: Sebastian yelps and grabs Jim's arms, closing his eyes. "You are an ass, Jim," he grumbles digging his fingernails into Jim's arms as payback.

You: -ignoring the pain, Jim grins, staring into Seb's eyes, then jerks off- ''No touching, dear. At least not for now'' -he pushes him on the bed and walks over to the table to get the handcuffs-

Stranger: Sebastian huffs and sits up on the bed, watching Jim with a cautious eye. "You leave me handcuffed to this bed, I swear to god I will kill you, Jim," he says warningly. He wouldn't put it past Jim to do it just to spite him.

You: -he shrugs- ''You couldn't stop me even if I do chose to leave you handcuffed. But no, I won't do that, you have my word, okay dear?''

Stranger: Sebastian frowns and rolls his eyes. "No, because I wouldn't hurt you. Alright, Jim. I trust you," he says, rubbing the ear Jim bit. He glances at the blood and glares at Jim but says nothing.

You: ''Good. Lay on your stomach, hands up. And it's not that bad.. Your ear, I mean. You'll be perfectly fine.'' -chuckles-

Technical error: Lost contact with server, and couldn't reach it after 3 tries. Sorry. :(.

or switch to text or video

[jimxsebfanfic]

>Author: GameandWolf

>Category: Angst

>Length: ~1000

>Rating: M

Sebastian should have realized something was off that morning.

[glimmerwolke]

Cast the calming apple Up and over satellites To draw out the timid wild one To convince you it's all right And I listen for the whisper Of your sweet insanity While I formulate denials Of your effect on me You're a stranger So what do I care? You vanish today Not the first time I hear All the lies What am I to do with all this silence? Shy away, shy away phantom Run away, terrified child Won't you move away Fuckin' tornado I'm better off without you Tearin' my will down

[thesmartone]

Jim: I got stabbed lightly

Sebastian: Meh, I was shot at many times, cry baby

Jim: I said that to make you feel... less uncomfortable....

Jim: sure didn't go as I planned

[cryptid-crush]

So... this was written about Jim and Sebastian, right?

[moraniarty-blog]

Suddenly, FANFICTION.

http://jimxsebfanfic.tumblr.com/

http://jimxsebfanfic.tumblr.com/

http://jimxsebfanfic.tumblr.com/

It's still setting up, and I'm in the process of dealing with the massive fic backlog. Once I've caught up we'll be accepting prompts, requests and fills in our ask box or submit.

[jimxsebfanfic]

make a mess, lioness

Moriarty rarely got her hands dirty. No, no, she preferred to have others doing her dirty work. 

Sometimes she watched. She found it invigorating and, frankly, and, sometimes, it was truly helpful. Just her being there was frightful; the victims gave in quicker. She’d watch them suffer, with a attentive eyes, sucking in the situation. Then, when it was all over, she’d take a deep breath, fix her hair, straight up her pencil skirt and leave. 

xxxxxx

It was usually Moran she sent to do the torturing and the killing. No one knew why but Moriarty had become quite fond of the ex-Colonel. No one dared to ask why (such as no one dared to ask where all the bruises came from). But everyone who knew about Moriarty’s existence, knew that she had found in Moran a favourite. The master and her loyal shadow.

xxxxxxx

Once in a blue moon, though, Moriarty did a job herself. All the bunnies hid in their caves when the snake came out to play. You had to pity the poor soul chosen by Moriarty. She was good. She took pleasure from it, it was almost like it added years to her lifespan. She didn’t just torture someone; she sucked the life out of them while grinning like the maniac she was.

xxxxxxx

“Where is Moriarty?” They asked. She wouldn’t answer, so they‘d hurt her over and over again, but still, she wouldn’t answer. They came at night, they came by day, they hurt her, but she would never answer. She would never give it. The tigress was hurt, but she wasn’t dead, and she wouldn’t break.  “Where is he?” They asked once, and she looked at them for a couple of seconds and laughed. She laughed and chocked on her own blood and kept laughing, and they hit her, but she couldn’t stop, because they had no idea who Moriarty was. 

They didn’t know they don’t know 

A phone rings. And again. And again. Every time someone picks it up, the call dies. Moran laughs. It started. 

Not long now not long just wait a bit more

“Well, well.” The voice slowly brought Moran back into consciousness. Her eyes were still blurry and the room was a slightly faded, but she could see enough. She could see Moriarty’s slender figure from afar, in high fucking heels and designer’s coat, her pale milky skin and black short hair in the middle of a mess of bodies and blood. Just where she belongs. The scenario fitted her, in a strange, strange way. There were gunmen all around the room: it was an operation. Two of the gunmen were pointing a gun at two other men, who Moran recognised as the torturers. “Now, dear. Oh, my.” said Moriarty with her smooth voice. 

The cavalry had arrived 

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the men spat, nervously, trying to sound angry. Moriarty looked at him as if he had just appeared from thin air and smiled. "Did Moriarty send you to save that bitch?"

“Thank you, dear. You just reassured me that my lovely sniper is completely and utterly loyal.” She approached him, holding his face on her hand and analyzing him carefully. The man was far too terrified to even try and do anything, not with those pitched black eyes staring at him like he was a lab rat, ready to be dissected. “J. Moriarty. Hi.” Moran took deep pleasure from the look in the men’s face when Moriarty introduced herself. “And I don’t like when people hurt my pets, Mr. Hicks. Especially without my permission. I shall be taking care of you myself.” She waved her head and they were taken away, fear dripping through their eyes.

She might’ve passed out again but she wasn’t sure

“I’m rather disappointed in you, darling.” Moriarty’s face was two inches apart from her own and there wasn’t a single drop of emotion in her thin face. “Letting yourself get caught like that.” 

“Sorry, boss.” It was all her breath allowed her to verbalize. The woman standing gently grazed Moran’s lips with her thumb, while someone else untied her hands. 

“Now, dear, what have they done to you? What have they done to my little tigress?”

[glimmerwolke]

I only do it when I'm thinking of you I hit the ceiling when the lights are low You are my fantasy I won't let it go Whatever else is in the back of my skull I have for you the most compassion of all I like the colour of the holes in your eyes I wanna kiss you on the top of your thigh Look at me Look what you've done to me I'm shaking uncontrollably Stuck in this fantasy I'm thinking things I shouldn't be Burn myself out for you I wouldn't but I have to Only for you