i adore the desolation!tim and jon fic, would be really interesting to see the dynamic between again, perhaps even more compelling from jons side and tim being a bit possessive perhaps? just need them to get off on destroying each other. just if you feel like it ofc <3
Alright welcome to fourth degree burns two electric boogaloo.
Jon was starving.
The Statements scattered across his desk, each picked over for any morsels of fear, had barely touched the gaping empty hole that had taken up residence inside his ribcage. He reached for another statement, but already he knew it was one already picked clean.
Desperation drove him toward the door, there had to be something that could take the edge off. There had to be a statement left that would work. His hand shook as he turned the handle, only to fall back as the door was shoved open landing on his tailbone with a wince. He tried to get up again but another spike of hunger had him doubling over, half-laying on the floor as pain rolled through him.
“-ss, Boss, Jon can you hear me?” As the pain quieted from all consuming to terrible ache Jon blinked up at Tim who was half-cradling him, panic clear on his face. Instinctive words started to crawl their way out of his throat soaked in static, he managed to bite them off, by sinking his teeth into his tongue hard enough to sever part of it, only too feel it crawl back together. It felt revolting, too reminiscent of the worms, but it served to keep the static from his next words.
“Yes, sorry I fell,”Jon ignored the blood that trickled out of his mouth from his recently severed then healed tongue, hoping Tim might not notice. Which of course was a bit unlikely, still he tried to push Tim away but it was weak, and Tim didn’t even seem to notice.
“Pretty sure I knocked you down,” Tim helped him to his feet and Jon was just thankful that he managed to stay standing, though his legs were trembling. Jon waited for Tim to let go, but he didn’t release his arm. Tim was looking at him a friend on his face before using his free hand to swipe at the blood that dripped from his mouth. “You doing okay?”
“I’m fine, just going to get a Statement,” Tim’s pointed glance at his desk upon which was a stack papers beside a stack of clearly recently recorded tapes, a full meal for your average Archivist was not subtle. Still stubborn to a fault Jon tried to pull away again but Tim easily shifted the pair of them once more trapping Jon between himself and his desk.
“Are those even enough for you anymore?” Jon flinched, even though Tim’s tone wasn’t accusatory it was another nail in the coffin of Jon’s remaining humanity. Jon tried to resist Tim tipping his chin up, but he quickly lost the battle, forcing their eyes to meet. Jon, so used to the disgust behind everyone’s eyes, is momentarily surprised by the understanding, only for it to hit him. Of course Tim would be the one person who couldn’t judge him, not when he saw the same hunger lurking there. It was all too much, fro him to resist, not when he could practically taste the fear behind those eyes. Jon was only half surprised to hear the recorder, with a fresh tape appearing out of seemingly nowhere, click on as static wormed its way up his throat.
“Tell me what it was like, after the explosion,” Static curled around his tongue the words no longer his own. He tried to bite back the rest but his jaw refused to work for him, he couldn’t even blink, eyes fixed on Tim’s which were aflame now. Jon could practically see his words laden with hooks, crawling down Tim’s throat to fasten around every tasty morsel of fear he still had that the Eye had not managed to drag into the light.
They were both trapped there, predator and prey as Tim was forced to speak, and Jon was forced to listen. Mercifully the Statement was short.
As silence fell Jon felt like had had finally eaten after days of starving. The hungry emptiness inside now gorged on Tim’s fear, nestling up to the immediate stab of guilt. The worst part was the sliver of himself that felt content, that relished the power he had, just for a moment, he was the one in control.
“Tim I’m-” His words were cut off with a pained scream, as Tim grabbed him, clothes and skin almost instantly destroyed by the heat, of which only his skin healed. If Jon’s entire being wasn’t currently focused on the pain he probably would have been embarrassed, but it was hard to worry about modesty when most of your skin was flaking away along with your clothes.
“Don’t, no apologies,” Tim’s voice was ragged, as he leaned close, voice barely above a whisper, searing heat against Jon’s ear. Jon bit back a whimper, feeling his skin bubble, scab and heal in a matter of moments. Jon tried to bite back whimpers as Tim brushed fingers no longer heated to a flash point but still on the side of just a little too much over his now bare skin. “Can’t blame a monster for its instincts.”
“I’m not-,” Jon cut himself off this time. Wasn’t he? Wasn’t it just instinct? Was it really that bad? Why did he have to starve himself? Jon was pulled out of his crisis of humanity by Tim pressing his too warm lips to his. Tim forced him to bend back further and further until had no choice but to let himself lay flat onto, the thankfully clear spot on, his desk. Tim pulled back enough to meet Jon’s eyes, clearly slightly out of breath, his chest heaving beneath clothes that were also smoldering and completely soaked with sweat.
Jon’s own clothing had fared much worse, his upper half completely bare, while the rest of him was only covered by smoldering scraps that were quickly losing structural integrity. A mixture of panic from his last dregs of professionalism, and the need to know that was only partly him caused another wave of static to flow under his next words. “Why?”
“Because I want to hurt you, I want to mark you, let everyone see it. I killed you, you’re a monster because of me which makes you mine.” Tim didn’t try to fight the compulsion this time letting it pry the words out easily each dripping like wax as he loomed over Jon. “I want to fuck you, watch you come apart, destroy you and then put you back together, so I can tear you apart again.”
“Oh” Jon felt like he wasn’t quite connected to what he was saying. The part of his brain that usually made decisions was currently out of commission, and really what else was one supposed to say to something like that. Thank you for the confession, good to know? Please take me over my desk right now? Actually I need five to seven business days to process this please come back later? Jon felt almost hysterical giggles bubbling up at the whole situation. Here he was lying mostly naked on his desk, being propositioned and threatened at the same time?
“For now though I want to eat you out on this desk until you can’t say anything but please and more.” Jon felt his face heat up again, It really wasn’t fair that Tim could say things like that. Even without the compulsion Tim had always been very confident. “Until you’re just a broken little thing.”
Jon sometimes wished he could tear answers out of himself, because right now he was both squirming at the thought and mortified at the possibility that someone could walk in at any moment, and he wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger. Instead of a complicated response he managed a short nod and a muttered lock the door, hoping that was the last bit of coherent communication he would need, anymore and he might just pass out from sheer embarrassment.
Tim clearly found that amusing based on the short laugh before he acquiesced the lock clicking as Jon looked anywhere else. Distracted as he was Tim caught him by surprise, his hands once more hot enough to sink past the skin and muscle of his thighs to grasp bone. He could feel his body trying to heal, nerves branching out constantly seared away. It was like waves, each a little weaker than the last but each one made Jon writhe and whimper grasping for anything to hold onto that wasn’t searing hot.
It was painful enough that Jon was certain if he was still human he would have passed out. Well he would probably be in shock, as it was the intensity slowly shifted, as his body somehow able to adapt tome Tim’s hands inside him, like they were meant to be there. He wondered if there would be permanent indents were his fingers pressed against bone, molding it to fit his use.
The first swipe of Tim’s tongue against his clit had Jon arching off the desk, which did not bode well for his chances of not losing his mind. He was thankful his tongue was only slightly warm, though he doubted it would stay that way, not when Tim had promised to break him. Still he was apparently starting off easy, lapping at his folds gently enough that Jon could almost catch his breath. Jon let his eyes flick closed, only to have his vision suddenly shift, the eye clearly wanted to see, mortifying voyeur that it was.
Tim didn’t seem to notice the smattering of scars that blinked open on his inner thigh, each a vivid green, as he continued lavishing attention on Jon’s cunt. Not until Jon shuddered through his first orgasm as Tim nipped at his clit. The angle was very odd for Jon, and the almost detached alien curiosity almost managed to drown out the absolute mortification he felt as he saw his own pussy clench unable to hold back a weak moan.
“Just can’t resist watching can you?” Jon yelped as Tim nipped the inside of his thigh right beside his new eyes. The skin melted beneath his mouth the heat making the eyes flinch closed, only to have another smattering open on his other leg, a bit higher up this time as though defiant. Tim shook his head apparently giving up the losing battle, returning his attention to Jon’s clit, suckling gently.
Jon keened softly, the pain of his fingers around his bones had mostly faded, overwhelmed by pleasure. He could feel his coherency slipping as Tim continued to savour him, like he was a delicious meal, and he was starving. It was all too much as he came again, his cunt clenching weakly down on Tim’s tongue. It was at that point that Jon decided that coherency was overrated letting his brain be washed out between waves of pleasure, interspersed with pain.
“you can tell this writer has a fetish :/” i hope when people read my writing they can accurately guess all my kinks, fantasies, most influential moments in my psychosexual development, and how many days since i last gave head at the time i wrote it
Vampires who over feed themselves when they hunt, biting right into an artery and bloating themselves with blood. They’re so hungry they let their instincts take over and suck down as much as their animalistic desire lets them, only realizing what they’ve done to themselves after they let go. They’re so dazed from their feeding frenzy they don’t realize how full they are until they look down at their swollen belly and feel how tight and round they’ve gotten. Bloated like a tick, heavy and painfully full, their belly sloshes with thick hot blood, making them moan. They’ve filled their belly too much, stomach tight and cramping, even with the ability to stretch more than a normal human, they’ve over done themselves. Unable to fly now with how heavy they are, they have to stagger through the dark streets to find somewhere quiet they can hide in order to nurse their poor bloated tummy before the sun rises the next morning
“How can you like these very toxic and horrible characters that have done despicable and unforgivable things?” oh it’s quite simple actually, this is fiction and I think with my dick.
the tim n jon fic is so scrumptious, like always, very much doing a great job at making burns hot, but i can’t stop giggling at the aftermath where jon needs to consult someone (elias) for a new desk, bc the other one is badly burnt
Jon tries to just send an email but of course Elias calls him up to his office, because Jon this is a big expense, you know ignition sources are not allowed in the Archives. What happened Jon?
Poor Jon just sitting there the whole time lying through his teeth about what happened to the desk. Not that it matters, he knows that Elias knows, and that this is just make Jon feel incredibly mortified time.
Jon eventually gets an order for a new more flame resistant desk but only after at least a half hour of carefully worded admonishments that make him feel like he’s a child getting scolded.
Of course Elias can’t resist a last little jab of, tell Tim to be more careful in the future, wouldn’t want to permanently damage any more institute property.
adding on my last ask, but elias and tim fighting over jon, agree so much with that statement
I just need them to both be the pettiest bitches the whole time as well. They can’t kill each other but they can constantly antagonize each other. Jon is just trying to do his job poor boy, both treating him like a favorite chew toy.
sorry for thinking fully clothed sex is hot. sorry for thinking that making someone ruin multiple layers of valuable fabric separating them from me because they’re so desperate for my touch is attractive. i’m so fucking sorry alright.
put your clothes back on. no i didn’t lie we’re still having sex just have some faith in me on this. can you do that.
I always feel very bad whenever I see stuff about religion because like. I understand this is very important to a lot of people. But a lot of the time it either sounds like a horror movie to me or I’m insanely horny about it. Or both. Sorry.
It is always morally correct to muzzle and leash your Archivist when he misbehaves. The boy deserves to be treated like a treasured pet but he still needs to be trained.
I think future!Jon should have to deal with past!Jon age regressing. Oh my god. Oh my god. It’d be a fucking trainwreck.
They are being given the opportunity to show a version of their child self the kindness and affection they desperately craved but never had. They will likely never experience it themselves. This is the person they hate the most. This is them, the person who will make every stupid, awful decision they made in their own time. The incompetent prick who can’t even hold himself together enough to act like an adult at work. Having the gall to act small and scared and pathetic like he’s suffered a fraction if the pain he (they) cause others. Like he has the right. This is a person who doesn’t understand why they hate him except that he has never been enough, and the adults in his life have rarely liked him. He’s so vulnerable right now. Would be so easy to hurt and the Archivist can smell his simple, childish fear. Mr. Spider a fresh, raw wound they could so easily sink their teeth into. Genuinely holy fuck there’s soooo much potential here.
They could hold their past self in their lap. They could hold him and tell him that he’s a good boy and gently rock him while they read him something nice until he fell asleep and tuck him into the cot and not say anything when he wakes up mortified and ashamed.
Or maybe could take advantage of him. Probably they wouldn’t. But they could. Could put him on his knees and make him lick them open, unsure and confused and not understanding but eager to please. To be good. They’re so small and pathetic and naive and innocent and something about it is making future!Jon so. So angry. But they could tell him to kneel and to put his face in their folds and lick. And when he got wet, started squirming, reached a hand down to touch himself, they could slide their foot between his legs and make him hump it. Could call him a slut and he wouldn’t even understand, not right then, not really. And wouldn’t it just be so easy? To lash out? To sully this man? To ruin all the things that make them so uncomfortable and unsure? The softness, the childishness, the smallness?
And if they were feeling vindictive they could just… take out all their anger on him. They could lash out with cruelty. And he wouldn’t fight back, not like this. Wouldn’t argue. Wouldn’t know what vulnerabilities to strike, wouldn’t be able to being their shame and misery to the surface so easily. No clever words or sharp tongue now. And the sobbing would make future!Jon feel guilty, and the guilt would make them cold and distant. Have them leaving him to have his little fit all alone. To pick up the pieces until he could come back when he was feeling grown, when he would understand that future!Jon had neither the time nor the patience to deal with his bizarre, childish meltdowns.
Or maybe if they didn’t think they could be trusted with him like this. Couldn’t bring themselves to be kind or cruel they’d just. Ignore him. Snippy when he was bold enough to demand their attention but otherwise acting cold and distant and unbothered. Or maybe, perhaps, he’d feel uncomfortable enough to pass them off to someone else. Would be willing to risk leaving them to Elias’ tender mercies, if they felt it would be easier.
I was so right for this but. We also need to be considering Joncest with future!Jon age regressing.
Past!Jon catching his future self in a moment of vulnerability. A moment they were surely never meant to see. This powerful, potentially dangerous monster who can hurt him, who hates him. Is small and scared and unsure.
He can try and use his burgeoning powers. Attempt to extract every secret they’ve ever tried to keep from him. He can have them weak and vulnerable and pleasuring him. Can take advantage of their weakness. Can be powerful, in control, no matter how much he’ll hate himself for the cruelty of it all afterwards.
He can show them kindness. Strained half-hearted compassion. Try and reach out for a future!Jon that’s too small to hurt him. To Know his weaknesses. Desperately grasping for love and affection from a version of himself that hasn’t learned to hate him yet. Can feel the earnest love and comfort he needs so terribly yet knows he doesn’t deserve.
He could watch them. Leave them. Could even give them over to Elias (the one person he trusts, the one he always goes to in his own moments of… of smallness, almost like a father-) could do any number of things and all of them would be painful and fascinating and soso tasty…..
We need to think about past jon and elias age regression more I think. Jon getting into a fight with his future self that upsets him so so much he doesn’t even realizebhow small he’s getting on the way to elias’ office. Meant to just seek answers but it all hurts so much and nobody likes him or respects him or even trusts him except elias who’s so responsible and knows so much and is so patient and steady even if he’s stubborn and content to just watch he’s always there and his hands are big and firm against his as he asks what’s wrong, why’s he shaking, and he didn’t even realize it, because of course he didn’t, elias always notices how he’s doing before he does, elias always knows, elias is so warm and big and safe and it’s so much easier here, away from the constant scrutiny. It’s so much easier here when he can hardly process he isn’t small enough to hold like he needs. It’s easy here, with elias guiding him to lay down on the couch and coaxing him out of his coat and fetching him his toys and being so patient and it feels like he’s just visiting his dad to calm down, like this is the most natural thing in the world, like he’s not his boss he’s his father and he’s so utterly safe here he can barely remember his future self warned him away at all. Not when elias smiles so fondly as he runs a hand down his chest, saying he’s a big boy now, so clever already, he knows better than to bleed himself dry, come on now jon. At least stay a little while, let his old man calm him down. Jon squirms and whines and feels like he’s burning up in a way he can barely handle when he’s so small, so easy to overwhelm so quick to cry and shake when it’s all too much for him. But elias is all around him, and so sure of himself, so sure he can help, and it’s so easy to be touched and held and wanted by the only person left who cares.
lol this is so true. and also really cool in a way i could never explain to anyone who isn’t Like This
the weirdest/coolest part is that it is genuinely not flirting, and barely feels sexualized as a social interaction at all. it’s like seeing your friend’s favorite pastry on sale and grabbing one for them, but somehow even less of an overture
read a bunch for your vampire jon with elias, any more thoughts on elias keeping jon like an pet, keeping him collared and leashed, perhaps even very blood-drunk jon being easy to manhandle
I think if you don’t keep the boy on a leash he could get into all sorts of trouble. I think Elias should keep Jon muzzled and collared in his office. Maybe he has a special little cage for him when he’s being particularly troublesome.
Also I was possessed so here is a little taste of that dynamic:
“What a mess you have made.”
Jon flinched, his sire’s exasperated tone reaching him even in his blood-filled haze. He tried to roll to face the door, whimpering as his stomach shifted as he did so. His shirt had ridden up, showing off his distended abdomen, the skin stretched thin across it. Like a bloated tick that had gorged itself, he couldn’t do much more than lay on the floor, too full to hide the mess that covered the floor, his skin, and his clothes. The only clean spot in the office was probably the spot Elias occupied in the doorway.
He hadn’t meant to make a mess, he just…he hadn’t expected anyone in his office this late. He hadn’t planned to take their Statement. He hadn’t meant to climb across the desk as they finished their tale to sink his fangs into their neck. He hadn’t meant to take, and take, opening their throat as much as he could blood spattering on himself, and his desk, and the floor like a faucet until it became a gentle trickle. He hadn’t meant to drain them completely, veins and arteries slashed open with nails and teeth until there was nothing left, just cold dead flesh.
He had planned to try to at least clean up after himself, going so far as to at least shove the body where it wouldn’t be immediately evident when someone opened the door. He could do that without moving, he had told himself to get up, that he needed to clean, but he was so full and warm. His thoughts had started to slip away from him as he lazily licked at the mess on his hands until the door opened. Which brought him back to his current situation.
“Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself, after this display of hedonism?” Jon tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was a weak keen as Elias knelt beside him, his expression impossible for Jon to read in his current state. Elias chuckled softly, and Jon whined, even out of it as he was he did not like to be laughed at. Elias didn’t pay his complaint any mind, nor his whimpers, as he pressed his palm against his distended abdomen. “First day you’re allowed off the leash, and already you’ve gorged yourself.”
Jon yelped as Elias prodded at his swollen stomach before withdrawing his hand wiping it on Jon’s clothes, which were already a lost cause anyway. His hand disappeared into his pocket for a moment before withdrawing a familiar pair of objects. Jon could only squirm as the thick leather was fastened back around his neck, cinched tight enough that he couldn’t forget it was there. Elias wrapped the free end of the attached leash around his hand forcing Jon to sit up, despite his complaints, or choke himself.
If Jon hadn’t been completely out of his head he could have easily snapped the collar, but instead he let himself be manipulated. Elias tugged again using the leash to force him to his feet, leading him to the other side of the desk. It was difficult for his shaky legs but he only had to stand briefly supported by his sire before he was allowed collapse back to his knees at Elias’s feet.
“Be a good little fledgling now,” Jon instinctively bared his fangs as Elias produced yet another object, a familiar mix of metal and leather, his muzzle, snapping at him as Elias brought it toward his face. Elias’s response was swift, a sharp slap across Jon’s cheek, only Elias’s grip on the leash keeping him upright as he cried out. Full of fresh blood his cheek started to purple already where his hand had made contact, tears of pain welling up tinged bright red, leaving thin streaks through the mess on his face. Trembling and not wanting to be hit again, Jon kept his mouth closed as Elias gently rubbed away the remainder of his excess from his face and neck, before fastening the muzzle over his mouth. “I do hate to have to take a firm hand with you, can’t you just be more lovely?”
Jon whined scrabbling at the muzzle, stopping only when Elias yanked his leash, constricting his throat briefly. If he had been thinking straight, his brain not flooded, he could easily get it off as Elias hadn’t locked it yet, but those thoughts weren’t understandable floating about in his brain, unconnected. So he let the fight drain out of him, leaning against Elias’s leg like the dog he was treating him as.
“Wonderful, now I shouldn’t reward your bad behavior,” Elias pulled Jon’s chair forward to settle on it so he didn’t have to lean down quite so far to reach the rest of his fledgling. Luckily the spray of gore had mostly been confined to the opposite side to the desk, so the chair was clean. “But you’re so adorable like this, I could do anything to you.”
“First though let’s get you out of those filthy clothes,” Jon couldn’t object, the muzzle made speech difficult and his current state made it impossible, and besides the blood had started to dry leaving the cloth stiff and uncomfortable. It was all too easy to let Elias strip his shirt off, tearing the fabric so he didn’t have to remove his leash. Elias tossed the shirt aside, reaching down to gently fondle his now bare chest, making Jon moan.
“Now pet get up on the desk for me,” Jon whined as Elias stopped groping him, wanting to continue to feel good hurried to obey the order. All fight seemingly gone now, along with any complicated thoughts, he leaned over the desk, only to whimper as the hard wood pressed against his still distended abdomen. Elias seemingly exasperated at Jon’s inability to think grabbed onto his hips pulling him back so only his chest was braced against the bloody wood.
“You really are such a stupid little thing when you get like this, barely more than an animal.” Jon didn’t really get to object as Elias leaned over him pressing against his back, a brief pressure was all the warning he had before fangs slid into his neck. The bite was precise and careful, not the bloody mess that he had left his victims neck. Jon groaned as Elias suckled at his neck, his thoughts already fractured and small, were now completely overwhelmed, leaving him pliant and limp.
“Good boy, relax,” Elias lapped at the blood until little the puncture wounds closed up again, Jon shivering with pleasure as he did so. Jon was easily stripped of the remainder of his clothing, now a completely docile pet, like his brains had been scooped out his head left empty. Preparation was short and hardly needed, apparently gorging himself and being fed on in turn had left Jon quite soaked, Elias easily pressing three fingers inside making his fledgling moan loudly.
“Greedy little thing, always wanting more,” Jon wasn’t listening trying to arch his hips back, wailing as Elias instead withdrew his fingers. He tried to arch his back more, begging without words for Elias to please touch him. Luckily for him, and his currently absent sense of dignity, Elias wasn’t patient enough to torture him by making him wait any longer than it took to free his cock from his trousers and press against his cunt. A rough thrust had Jon sliding forward on the desk his tits rubbing against the hard wood, making him keen.
“Sorry pet,” Elias did not sound even a little bit sorry, as he set a brutal pace. Jon couldn’t do much more than grip the desk as he was used like a toy. The worst part was Elias was hitting that spot inside that made his sees star’s every time he thrust in, pushing him over the edge quickly as he came. His legs went limp now held up only by the desk and the cock buried inside him. Still Elias didn’t stop continuing to batter that same spot until he had been pushed past pleasure into overstimulation.
“You feel so good, such a good boy.” Jon didn’t respond to the words, he truly couldn’t think, only able to ride the waves that crashed through him. It was almost painful especially where his chest rubbed against the rough wood. It was overwhelming, it was too much, and he was losing his mind as Elias seemed to somehow speed up. “A good little greedy hole for me always wanting more.”
Finally as blackness was starting to slide into the edge of his vision as he was used Elias thrust deeply and stilled. Yanking Jon backwards as he pulled his leash taught burying his fangs into Jon’s shoulder, half-choking him as he came inside him. Jon would normally feel mortification to hear the obscene sounds as he was filled, but his thoughts had long ago dribbled out his ears. Leaving him just a pliant little thing, thoughts small and far away.
As Elias pulled away leaving him spread out on his desk Jon could feel cum trickling down his leg, almost a twin sensation to the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder. Though after a moment he felt something pressing against him again, he whined, unable to remember the words for no more, but the plug was pressed in despite his objections lodging firmly inside him.
“Wouldn’t want to make even more of a mess would we?” With only a little whining Jon let himself be lifted off the desk into Elias’s arms, the other vampire easily lifting him like a kitten. Slotting his muzzled covered face against his shoulder, Jon practically burrowed against him seeking comfort from his sire after feeling so overwhelmed, even if it had been mostly Elias fault.
“I’ll dispose of the body, but you’re going to be scrubbing the blood off everything.” Jon whined, not really responding, his eyes already falling shut as everything caught up to him. Jon barely caught his last achingly finding slightly exasperated words as he went fully limp passing out. “Whatever am I going to do with you?”
“And then the next moment, he’s suddenly, blindingly awake.
Or at least, that’s what it feels like. A passing glance at the alarm clock shows it’s somewhere around 4 AM, but for the first split second of consciousness, he’s too disoriented to process the time. Jon woke them both up with a short, sharp, startled cry before he dissolved immediately into tears. Elias catches a glimmer of green and crimson as he turns, spectral eyes opening all around Jon and buzzing in response to his fear. Then they disappear just as fast. Elias sits up, still blinking blearily. He finds Jon curled on his side next to him, nearly smothering himself with the pillow from how hard he clutches it to his face. Oh. That makes sense. Blocking his senses to stop Beholding from slipping out through him in a moment of vulnerability.
Elias turns over, reaches, hesitates, then rests his fingertips ever-so-gently on Jon’s bent back. When this doesn’t elicit any reaction besides a brief hitch in the sobs, he smooths his hand up and down Jon’s spine in long, careful sweeps. He vaguely remembers his wet nurse doing this for him as a child. This is comforting, right?
“Ssshhhh… it’s okay, Jon. Everything’s alright,” he murmurs in the dark, his voice husky with sleep. “You’re safe. Can you take a deep breath for me?”
A pause, and then Jon obeys, his chest shuddering with the strain of sucking air through the silk pillowcase.
“Good. Good job. Another, please.”
A few more, and Elias convinces Jon to remove the pillow from his face so he can breathe more easily. He sees why Jon needs it, though. His eyes are pinned wide and unblinking with terror, glowing that unnatural shade of green they both know so well. The moment he can see again, the Eyes appear in the air all around him like a hungry swarm. It’s unclear whether they’re here to defend Jon from the perceived threat, or to feed on him.
It’s not often that Elias pushes any feedback into his link with Beholding, aside from the fear it feeds on and the pleasure he takes from it. He considers himself an instrument of his God: to speak back to it is as offensive as it is futile. But tonight, for Jon’s sake, he tries. He opens his own Eye — a single spectral visage glowing from the center of his forehead like the jewel of some terrible crown — and turns it away, across town to the nightmares of some other unfortunate soul. While he does this, he slips in behind Jon and folds his hand over the Archivist’s eyes. There’s a momentary but intense burn of static against his skin, Beholding displeased to be cut off from its Archivist and punishing him for daring to defy it. But he reminds it of its victim elsewhere and diverts its attention as best he can.
Almost instantly, Jon calms. A few more breaths and Elias feels the faint flutter of eyelashes against his palm as Jon finally regains the ability to close his own eyes. His sobbing turns from scared to relieved as he grips Elias’s wrist with one shaking hand, clutching tight as if begging him not to take it away.
So, Elias doesn’t. He crosses the remainder of the space between them, slips his other arm underneath Jon, and tucks the smaller man against his chest to make the angle easier on them both. But he keeps his hand sealed around Jon’s eyes despite the itch of tears drying on his hand. “You’re okay,” he murmurs into the Archivist’s hair. “You’re safe, Jon. All is well.”
It takes a few more minutes of soothing before Jon believes him. But he relaxes by degrees in Elias’s arms, until at last, sleep claims him again.
Meanwhile, Elias lays awake until dawn.
I did this.
I did this terrible thing to him.
He knew this logically. He did it on purpose. He spent years planning it. But to understand the consequences of his actions in the abstract is so, so different from seeing and feeling them now.”
[Excerpt from Chapter 3 of my JonElias fic, Villain and Violent (Infant and Innocent)]
Elias: “He’s my little guy, my small tiny fellow, my little sopping wet kitten, he could be killed by a passing summer breeze, my most favorite employee, the most fragile traumatized little mind in reach, he’s never done anything wrong in his entire life, he’s the coughing baby to my hydrogen bomb, the sickly Victorian child to my plague, my little discord kitten, my blorbo whom I must put through the horrors, he’s never had a day of rest in his life and if it was any other way I would be miserable, he’s a stress ball to me, my little archivist must be put in Situations so I may thrive off his suffering and moral confusion. He is a dark mirror to my brilliance, cut of identical cloth but the very model of weak qualities I left behind, the becoming and undoing of my being and my most precious arbiter of fear in 200 years.”
Jon: “Elias, the mannequins wanted to skin me, I’m scared.”
read a bunch for your vampire jon with elias, any more thoughts on elias keeping jon like an pet, keeping him collared and leashed, perhaps even very blood-drunk jon being easy to manhandle
I think if you don’t keep the boy on a leash he could get into all sorts of trouble. I think Elias should keep Jon muzzled and collared in his office. Maybe he has a special little cage for him when he’s being particularly troublesome.
Also I was possessed so here is a little taste of that dynamic:
You can’t prove to me that anytime there was a long pause when Jon and Elias are talking they weren’t making out, or just staring at each other because that’s basically sex for them.
[Music starts playing] *Images of Jon getting injured recorded by an unseen camera, set to music*
~In the arms of the angel~
[Music continues in background]
Hello, I’m Elias Bouchard. Will you be an angel for a helpless Archivist?
Everyday innocent Archivists are abused, beaten, and neglected, and that parts fine, but they also need trauma.
So please come tell your story at the Magnus Institute. For just the cost of never sleeping without being watched again you can make sure our Archivist gets his daily recommended dose of trauma.
Right now, there’s an Archivist who needs you. Your call says, “I have a Statement”. Please call right now. [Piano fades]
They don’t tell you this but actually the main problem with selfcest is that you have two characters with identical names and you need to find a natural way to differentiate the two in your fanfiction. Which is Annoying.
There are two Jons. What do I call them both. Would either of them agree to use another name. Would it be really really annoying to constantly call future!Jon the Archivist at all times. What happened if another character (Elias) Didn’t Want To Call Them That. I can’t just call them future and past Jon all the time that would be clunky. I need to write this fic but there are! Logistical issues!!!!
When Jon gets fingerfucked until he can barely walk by his future self who hates him, is he supposed to moan his own name? How am I supposed to easily and smoothly differentiate between two different Jons for multiple sex scenes? For the Jon/Jon/Elias threesome??
Normalize leaving unhinged comments on ao3 fics you like. I’m tired of being the only one brave enough to write “I am chewing on this fic” in the comment section. Be weird. Authors will love you for it
If I didn’t want readers to chew on it, I wouldn’t have spent all that time on the mouthfeel
yo for the record if you put something in my inbox and i never respond it’s not that i didn’t like it or read it it’s that i very very often see messages and go ‘oh i should respond to that’ and then i fucking forget until it’s like. been enough time to be weird
i love one-sided jonelias so much. like yes give me elias as a creepy boss who is a little too obsessed with his employee and keeps track of his habits, feelings, actions, and whether or not he’s smoking at the current time
What Jon really needs is some under-negotiated and highly questionable sex where he’s restrained for someone else’s pleasure. It could fix him in theory but the reality of it should be actively making him Worse and Miserable. Ok thank you.
I think sometime in S4 Jon had recurring fantasies about Elias tying his hands behind his back and restraining him to a wall and pressing a large, powerful vibrator inside of him while statement giver after statement giver walked into the room to feed him until he was so lost in the pleasure and fullness that he gave up even pretending to want them to stop and just lay there to feed and cum again and again and again for hours.
I think he should try and actually live out (part of) this fantasy with Peter in S4 <3 it would be fun <3
Jon should have something unhealthy going with Peter in season four. His self worth has never been worse, almost everybody he knows hates him, and he’s turning into a monster. I just think Peter should look at that and see a lovely meal. Plus Jon is so starved for affection even if the person is actively hurting him as long as they call him a good boy after well…
Jon x og!Elias is a very stupid crackship that hits a handful of bizarrely specific buttons and I don’t know what to do with it. Nothing about it should be particularly compelling and yet regardless I am Compelled.
I think Jon should be getting frequent but relatively mediocre dick from a rich arrogant middle-aged failson. I think Jon should be Very Horny (maybe he’s just started T? Idk) and sort of annoyed that his dick is demanding this much attention all the time and masturbation just isn’t quite satisfying enough anymore and og!Elias isn’t even really tolerable but he’s there and a relatively consistent lay so what else is Jon supposed to do.
In a hypothetical universe where Jon would not only be asked about his sex life but would answer honestly, he would (if he was feeling charitable) describe the sex as “adequate.” Og!Elias is hardly a selfless lover but Jon isn’t especially concerned over the quality and/or occurrence of og!Elias’ orgasms either. And it’s not like either of them have many better options lined up, so even though he views og!Elias with relative disdain he’s perfectly willing to go to be with him (or, more accurately, to go to empty storage closet with him).
Meanwhile og!Elias is down bad. Down catastrophic. Madly in love with this scrawny mean little researcher even though Jon also irritates the shit out of him. Idk why I like this idea so much, it’s just. There. In my mind.
forcefem JE, heavy on the drugging of Jon!! Elias manhandling Jon into various positions while taking photos and calling her pretty, Jon just moaning because his head is so fuzzy
Ask and ye shall receive, under the cut for length because this got long. You also get two POVs for extra fun.
“I just don’t know what’s going on Elias it’s all so-,”
When Elias had slipped a little sedative into the little bit of wine Jon had agreed to drink, he hadn’t expected it to have such a quick effect. To have his poor Archivist collapse quite that fast, in the middle of a sentence no less. He supposed his Archivist had been forgetting to eat again, silly little thing that it was. He could see the poor thing’s eyes going hazy as its words trailed off, swaying before going limp. Luckily that did give Elias just enough time to guide his Archivist onto the couch, to slump against the pillows there, a bit of drool trickling out of the corner of her mouth.
“You really should take better care of yourself Jon, maybe actually leave at night,” Elias said with a fond smile, taking hold of her chin to examine her face. Frowning slightly at the heavy dark circles beneath her eyes, evidence that she was certainly still overdoing it. Not that he minded his Archivist’s workaholic tendencies for the most part, but sometimes he wished he could convince her to leave at a decent hour. Perhaps he would try inviting her to dinner after work, she could hardly return to work after, though knowing his Archivist, she just might.
“I really should remove that awful cot you’ve placed in document storage, or at least improve it, I doubt it’s conducive to a good night’s rest.” Jon predictably did not respond, even as Elias released her chin to slide his arms under her, lifting her limp form far too easily as he carried her , into the guest bedroom. Dead to the world his Archivist didn’t react to being placed on the bed, nor to being stripped naked, clothes folded carefully on the dresser. Elias paused to admire his creation, the lack of clothes revealing the changes that she had come to seek Elias’s advice about, unaware of the cause.
“Really you can be such a blind little thing at times, and far too trusting, I’m surprised more people haven’t taken advantage of that.” She was going to be so very pretty his Archivist once he was done with her, and so much happier, even if right now she was distressed. The changes were pretty far along now, already her growing breasts were getting hard to hide, fitting comfortably in his hands as he stroked them. He couldn’t resist squeezing, watching her brow furrow a bit, as she squirmed, the drugs still heavy in her system, keeping her asleep.
Elias stepped to the dresser pulling out a simple make-up kit, his Archivist didn’t need much, but a few touches here and there hid the marks of too-little sleep. Poor thing, Elias loved how she couldn’t stop searching for answers, but she really did need to start sleeping more. Maybe instead of dinner he would start bringing her a little something extra, on nights she stayed at work late. If she found herself collapsing at work more often perhaps she would take the hint, and actually go home, though he doubted it. She would probably just collapse in her office if he drugged her, he’d have to carry her to the cot, hardly a burden, but not the intended outcome. Setting aside the brush he admired his work, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, like a proud parent.
“So vulnerable, completely helpless, just a beautiful doll,” His thoughts and words were interrupted as Jon mumbled softly, squirming in her sleep. Reminding him that he did have a plan to fulfill right now, no need to make future plans just yet. Focusing on his current plan he grabbed the clothing he had prepared from the closet, a rather childish ruffled garment that he knew she would find mortifying. Once she was dressed he paused again, taking in the sight.
“Such a lovely girl, pretty as a picture.” Speaking of which, he didn’t know how much longer his pet would appear in standard film, but that was fine, a polaroid camera would work just as well if necessary. One of these days he would really like to have a portrait done of her, perhaps more than one. One he could hand at the Institute, and one for his private residence. Now though he settled for normal photographs, which he had to admit made things easier, but it just wasn’t quite the same.
“Would you like that lovely? A beautiful portrait to hang in your domain? Give some light to that dingy office?” As was expected there was no response even as he adjusted her position, posing her artfully. It was so easy, posing her like a lovely doll, each photo becoming more…risqué as he worked. It was as he was pushing the flimsy fabric up, bunching it around her hips that Jon started to slightly stir for the first time since she had collapsed. Elias paused for a moment, before continuing to pose her, hands roving over her body as he liked ignoring the little whimpers she made as he pushed and prodded, watching her face carefully to see the moment she awoke. When her eyes finally flicked open, still clouded with what Elias had given her, he could see a faint tinge of panic, such a lovely sight.
“Oh sweet girl it’s fine, I’m here,” With barely an effort Elias slipped into her thoughts, they were confused and muddled, barely coherent. Delicious fear was swirling through her as she realized she couldn’t move, her attempts to speak only resulting slurred whines. It was with hardly a thought that Elias slid the image of her current appearance into her mind, showing her how pretty she looked.
~~~~~~Jon~~~~~
Something was wrong.
Jon tried to react to the hands grasping and shifting him, instinctively trying to struggle but his limbs felt like they were weighted down. An odd click came from somewhere nearby, a camera, he thought vaguely, before the hands were on him again. As the hands withdrew he managed to barely open his eyes, the world around him an unfocused blur. His brain felt like someone had liquefied it, letting it drip out of his ears until there was nothing left but empty space. He tried so hard to remember what happened, he vaguely remembered talking to Elias. Remembers agreeing to have a drink then…nothing.
Elias’s recognizable voice pierced the growing panic, though his words were muddled and made no sense. Jon tried to respond, but his tongue refused to respond, his words coming out as slurred nonsense. As he tried to talk, the blurry world around him slid away replaced with an image that part of him knew he wasn’t actually seeing. It was, well Jon didn’t have the coherence to truly deny that seeing herself himself like that wasn’t appealing to something that he usually kept buried deep. He could see the shock on his own face, what looked like his face anyway, for the most part. He didn’t look in the mirror often preferring in fact to avoid it, so maybe he just hadn’t realized the changes, had affected his face as well as his body. Like this, seeing only his upper half, well if he hadn’t known innately that it was in fact him, well he might have, that is to say…
“You do make a very pretty girl Jon.” Elias’s voice was soft, Jon could feel his warm breath against his ear, his hands roving over his body. The world was slowly coalescing his thoughts still fuzzy, still confused, but Elias’s words were no longer nonsense, or well they were, but they were understandable, even if they made no sense.
“Now Jon, come now let’s be honest with ourselves, I mean just look at yourself,” Jon’s thoughts were suddenly drowned in the certainty that Elias was right, that she was lying to herself images of her supine form flashing through her head. Perhaps if she was lucid she could have rejected thoughts as foreign, but her brain had no concrete thoughts to hold onto. It didn’t help that Elias had shifted his attention, which was now being payed to her chest. Squirming as the sensation spread through her, unable to bite back a whine as she felt Elias tug on her nipples, which had recently become so sore. It was overwhelming, and Jon couldn’t do anything other than moan as her body was played with like a toy. He continued to abuse her breasts latching onto one teeth and tongue making Jon yelp, which trailed off into a low moan as her body shook.
“Good girl,” Jon could feel her face heat up, and while it barely showed on her dark skin, part of her knew the effect of his words had not gone unnoticed. Elias’s mouth left her chest as he pulled away, and Jon heard the click of the camera again. She tried to hide her face to do anything, but her limbs remained out of her control, and Elias ignored her whines. It was exhausting, fighting against whatever was in her system, her thoughts fragmenting the more she tried.
“I do wonder how much you’ll remember,” Elias was talking again, and Jon tried to keep focus on his words, horror spreading through her at the implication. Jon tried once more to do more than squirm, but it was not use. Elias’s hands returned to her body, possessively roaming over it as he spoke. Jon had to admit to herself that he knew what he was doing, playing her body like a cheap whistle, arousal combined with horror at the violation. Her hips were twitching of their own volition begging Elias to touch her there as well, despite what little remained of her conscious mind’s objections.
“Such an insatiable pretty little thing,” Elias seemed to take pity, sliding a hand between her legs. She could practically see how amused he was that she was already hard, which was only natural. That didn’t stop the mortification underlying her arousal, reminding herself once again that this was wrong. A thought that fled just as quickly as Elias began to stroke her with one hand while the click of the camera told her he was getting every moment of her humiliation.
“You look so pretty on camera, my lovely girl.” Perhaps it was that thought specifically, though she would never admit it, that pushed her over the edge her whole body shuddering, the camera clicking away. That Elias had proof that she was…she was this easy, and she wasn’t even sure it was the first time. That he he had irrefutable proof of what she was, and that he could show anyone. But the worst part is that Elias didn’t stop, pushing her into over-stimulation quickly, her thoughts rushing out of her brain once more. She whined, unable to ask him to stop, and knowing he wouldn’t until he was satisfied and the camera continued to click.
![screenshot of an edited tweet that reads, "Don't write for an imaginary audience - write for yourself, your dick, and [edit starts] the 3 to 6 highly personal thematic narratives that haunt you and your psyche [end edits]"](../media/348650d508df57aedeafe510f0dd94ce9c67d25d.png)
