rusty_kink | Prompt Post: The Magnus Archives #1

Prompt Post: The Magnus Archives #1

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Elias decides it's time to take measures to discourage Nikola from skinning his Archivist for her frock - Beholding imagery that would disrupt her ritual should do the trick. And maybe it does a little more than that, too.

Ohhh shit I’m. I’m really into this. I don’t know if I can figure out how to write it but I’m so, so into this.

SA, writing it, four handwritten pages and counting.

help this has spiraled so far out of control have the beginning of my downfall
(Magic 8 ball that is the fragmentary rest of the draft—this is here because it’s all that’s continuous from the top but we’re going... Places—says it’s currently very much on the dub side of the spectrum, ftr)

//

“Thank you, Jon,” Elias says, not looking up when Jon comes in. Jon supposes he wouldn’t expect him to bother with it anyway. “I know you must be stretched fairly thin right now, between the urgency of your actual work and these… self-assigned extracurricular activities, so to speak. I appreciate you making the time.”

Jon thought—he did—that between halfway knowing what he needs to do, if not quite what he is doing, and sheer numbing exhaustion, he was about as prepared to deal with Elias as he gets. He really did.

He needs to stop thinking this kind of thing.

“What ‘extracurriculars’,” he asks, mouth too dry to draw power into it on a quick enough turnaround to matter.

Elias obliges him anyway, voice light and airy and wholly incompatible with human life. Of *course* he does. “Plotting my murder with the rest, obviously. Oh, come on Jon, don’t freeze like that. Come here. It’s been quite the team bonding exercise for all of you, anyway, and you did badly need that kind of thing. I wasn’t going to stop something that productive. Not too early for a meaningful return on investment, anyway.”

“Ah,” Jon grinds out. He makes it a reasonable simulation of appeasement in tone if not in difficulty, even, because he’s at least a bit certain Elias will take that as an insult. But he gets no real reaction and he takes a seat anyway. “Right. Let’s get it over with. You said you had more information on the Unknowing you’re suddenly willing to part with after all. What is it?”

“I didn’t say it was strictly information.” The chiding disappointment in his tone gets slightly lost in Elias’s breathiness at the question, at the act of Jon questioning. At whatever it is he does. (Jon really *didn’t* think he’d pushed the inquiry all that hard—if anything he’d just caught up from his vague shock to normal speech, really—so he’s easily able to conclude Elias is just foregoing restraint on purpose and being theatrical about it besides.) “It’s a strategy for protecting you personally,” Elias adds. He does not pause long enough to get a reply. “You’re welcome.”

“And will it *stop* the Unknowing itself?”

“No.” Elias pauses, again, still without leaving room for a real reaction but this time in a way that looks almost human, uncertain. “Unfortunately. Or only in that it will help keep you around for that effort. But I do hope you find your own survival to be a priority in itself, Jon. Too much depends on you for anything else.”

“Enough.” If Jon had any desire to hear about his continued existence and general negligence in related areas he could just let Martin talk for longer than five minutes without diverting him with a direct question or order. “What do you want to do, Elias.”

“I can make your skin unusable to Orsinov. I am not entirely sure how likely she is to try to use you again. At worst the risk is opportunistic. If you are willing to cooperate then I can at least reduce that likelihood to zero.”

“And ensure that if it catches me it kills me outright?” Jon asks, all told more wry than properly bitter.

“Perhaps.” Elias shows his teeth. “So don’t get caught.”

“I am *trying*,” Jon snaps. Then he gathers as much power as he can deliberately, welling up on his lips like blood and plasma from the heart of a star. (He hopes Elias appreciates the effort; maybe it’ll make him more properly manageable.) “What *exactly* are you proposing to do to me, Elias?”

Elias shudders predictably, mouth falling slightly open; that’s even fair, Jon figures, he’d geared that one up to hurt. Or… whatever Elias feels. Anyway, he answers soon enough. “The Beholding has little inclination toward formalized cults as an end in themselves if other means are available, as I assume you’ve noticed. As such our legacy as far as rituals and signifiers go is somewhat sparse. However, one of the more useful recurring options outside our direct function, for as much history as I have access to, has been in terms of body modification – irreversible forms, of course – scarification, tattooing. Tattooing most of all, in fact. It’s an extension of the duty to record and a permanent mark of service to our master. Rarely necessary as the general cultures changed, you understand, but highly appropriate. I know how, of course. I am proposing– ”

He pauses for breath consciously there, for more than the little sips of air taken between words. Jon even lets him, finding his feelings illegible.

“In your case,” Elias restarts, “the practical benefits may be twofold. It might – *might* – intensify your access to your own power; I’m not certain. I *know* I can mark the Eye’s claim on you so deeply Orsinov and her ilk would hesitate to so much as touch you.”

“All right,” Jon says, when he feels the question close out. Then he swallows. He hadn’t expected – “All right. Now?”

“Yes.” At least Elias seems a bit surprised as well. It’s the little things, Jon supposes. “Yes, I think that would be best.”

“Here?” Jon looks around, mouth curling a little. His reactions feel some mix of self-evident and alien, exhaustion melting into something else. “It’s not exactly a…”

“The Eye cares more about symbolism than what we’d consider general practicalities,” Elias says. “Fortunately. Cuts out the healing time, done right, or I’d have more reservations suggesting it now.”

“Oh, glad you’ve thought of everything, then.” Jon passes a hand over his eyes, wondering distantly if he’ll realize this is real before or after Elias breaks skin. “And you do know how *to* do it right.”

*“Jon.”*

“Will it hurt?” Jon asks, quieter than he’d meant.

Elias studies him for a moment. “Is there an answer that will change your mind now?”

“I…” Jon wets his lips; they seem to need it. “I suppose not,” he says.

“Good.”

He doesn’t feel uncertain, or trapped in anything but his own oddly smooth and glassy certainty, but Jon looks around again anyway. Like doubt is a garish physical object he’d put down carelessly and it should jump out at him at a glance. “What do you need me to do?”

“If you could str– no,” Elias says, catching himself before Jon is forced to really think about what he interrupted himself saying and why. “No, that’s unnecessary. The torso should be sufficient.”

Jon watches him stand, watches consideration flicker over Elias’s features with rapid subjectivity, and… lets him. What else is he going to do? His fingertips feel a bit numb as the understanding that he doesn’t understand slowly creeps up them, but it’s not like Jon can just back out.

Can he?

(It’s irrelevant. He isn’t going to.)

“Take off your shirt and anything under it,” Elias says after a moment. “If you push that chair back slightly I can brace myself on the desk and that should be more than enough.”

His fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt while Jon thinks over how many uncharacteristic uncertainties he just heard. The buttons resist him slightly, if only in the way he’s gotten used to through the layered burn scarring on his fingertips.

OP

Thank you for writing this! I really enjoy the way you write their dynamic. I love how Elias is just being so casually assholish here while also being sort of helpful. “So don’t get caught.” What an Elias thing to say! And Jon being frustrated with him, but still going along with it. Also, I enjoy the way you incorporate the show's mythology in this story.

I'm definitely looking forward a lot to the next part! (I've certainly been enjoying the snippets you've been sharing on the discord!)

It’s been my pleasure! Perhaps not that of my attention span, but my pleasure.

Ahahahahaha successss, I’m so glad they work

Maybe the real kink was the worldbuilding we made along the way! (it is) (this fic produced me screaming in my nsfw account “WHY IS THIS HOW I DISCOVER MY OMNISCIENCE KINK”)

As long as you’re here and know how fragmentary my drafting process is, uh, any further requests? Though a couple hundred words of bridge and I should get us to the lowkey breathplay so that’s nice.

~~dkendjshs I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re there but thanks for springing that on me I choked slightly laughing irl~~

ayrt

I'll give you a shout-out if I think of anything, but for now, I'm perfectly happy with what I know is ahead. Breathplay is definitely A+. Maybe some praise kink?

I love this very much, I hope there will be more!

Oh yes! Very much so, I’m just a hideously disorganized writer so the 1+k of draft is floating an hour in the future from where this leaves off. Soon...! :)

Would you be interested in a fill for the general prompt (Elias/Jon, dubcon/noncon tattooing) that was updated in terms of the reasons for tattooing for current canon developments?

OP

Yes, that would be awesome! Thank you for asking! :)

(Updated for recent canon, potential vague spoilers for the most recent episodes.)

***

Hunger was a powerful motivator.

Part of Jon still recoiled from the thought, the idea that he’d fallen so far, so fast. But the shaking in his hands couldn’t be stopped by food or drink. Even smoking didn’t help, the high he’d once craved now mere ash on his tongue. So great was the craving he’d almost broken then, stalking the path of a man who was slowly being consumed by vines. Fresh now, and dead soon. What did it matter if Jon had his fill, while he lasted? But he felt the weight of Basira’s threats. She probably wouldn’t kill him. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t find other means to restrain him.

What he needed was a solution, a way to make the written statements stronger, to amplify the few oral statements he could take without consequence, from the monsters Basira didn’t care about. He almost asked her, but no. She thought he should resist, would likely see it as a crutch. There was only one person who could help him.

And if he fed, in the end, well, Basira wouldn’t be mad, would she? None of them could blame him. A deserving victim, and if he told Jon more, then wasn’t that for the best?

An eye for an eye. And they both had eyes to spare.

***

It wasn’t visiting hours when he arrived at the prison. But if Elias was receiving special treatment, it hardly mattered. If he refused Jon’s visit, then Jon would just have to find another way in. And if he took someone’s statement in the process, well, he’d make sure to target the guard who’d sacrificed his colleague to escape. And who did not regret his actions to this day. Perhaps he’d regret it more, when he relived it in his dreams. Maybe be moved to pity, to help the colleague’s young daughter pay for uni. Or maybe he’d simply understand better how close he came. Whatever the outcome, he was hardly an innocent.

Once the man had finished, eyes wet and dazed, he brought Jon to Elias. Said he’d been expected, but that he’d been told to stall. Unnecessary, he could almost hear Basira saying. You didn’t have to do that. But he did. To face Elias, he needed to be strong. He needed to be stronger.

He needed to be ready.

As the door closed and locked behind him, his eyes locked on Elias, sitting rather casually on the room’s sole chair. Not dressed in prison clothes, because of course he wasn’t, but instead in a simple white shirt and pressed grey trousers, dark leather shoes polished until they shone. Hardly more casual than he’d been in the Institute, and even though Jon had a plan, knew what he needed, he couldn’t help but comment on it.

“I see prison’s been treating you well.” He remained where he was by the door, scanning the rest of the room, noting the padded table with a sense of disquiet, and the box on a small table next to it. Both box and table looked out of place, the dark wooden legs of the table elegantly curved, the box ornately carved and covered in gold leaf, except where it was worn away, exploding ruddy splotches and lines. Jon shivered as he continued to stare at it, the knowledge of what it was tickling at the edge of his mind. If he only pushed a bit more, he might yet have it, might understand the sharp pricking at the corners of his vision.

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He tried to turn, to snarl at Elias, but his other hand fell on the opposite shoulder, leaving Jon struggling agains him impotently as he was propelled towards the table. Craning his neck, he managed to catch a glimpse of Elias’s smile. Playing into his hands again, and yet wasn’t that why he’d come here? To know what Elias knew. Maybe it was best to play along, just this once.

Elias’s hands slid down his back, outlining the arc of his shoulder blades, before grasping his waist, fingers pressing exactly where Jon knew he was now missing a rib on each side. His breath was hot on Jon’s neck, lips brushing his ear when he finally spoke.

“It seems you’ve lost something since we last spoke.”

Jon pulled weakly against his grasp, hating how off-balance he felt. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have if you’d told me more. Given me any guidance whatsoever, really. Instead of just leaving me, to, to—“

He yelped as teeth dug into the base of his neck, struggling for a moment before sagging against Elias as he let go, worrying the spot with lips and tongue.

“What was that?” Jon said, hating how breathless he sounded.

“A mark of my own,” Elias replied, sending Jon stumbling towards the table with a gentle push. “The first of many.”

“You are not biting me again,” Jon said, struggling for any sort of sanity, for any protest he could make that would hold any weight. A boundary he could push up back between them, even as his nerves sparked and his skin felt stretched and tight. Like something inside him yearned to be closer to Elias, to know him, to see him, in a way no one else ever had.

A thought Elias seemed to hear, as his hands stilled above the box, not opening it but instead turning back to Jon, smiling at him, looking so pleased, so proud Jon felt weak, and hated that he did. He strode back across the gap, pressing Jon against the padded table, then brought their lips together.

Jon’s hands went to the table, digging into the thick padding, so hard he thought he might leave marks of his own behind. But he didn’t pull away from Elias. He didn’t think he could. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, as Elias raised his hand to gentle cradle Jon’s head, fingers threading through his hair, thumb rubbing circles into the base of his skull. Under Elias’s touch, Jon’s lips parted, letting Elias slip his tongue in, hot and hinting at a deeper hunger. Lips and tongue could give Jon what he wanted, feed and nourish him, but not like this. But still, he remained, as Elias pressed their foreheads together, and placed his free hand over one of Jon’s.

“I’m so proud of you. You’ve progressed far beyond what I thought possible in such a short time.” The hand cupping Jon’s head traced the length of his neck, pulling away briefly before Elias brought it back to run his knuckles along Jon’s cheek.

Jon leaned into the touch despite himself. Trying not to think of what Basira would say, what Melanie would think, worst of all Daisy, who fought and won where Jon had failed. But he didn’t care. His eyes opened to stare at Elias, that frisson of connection sparking between them. And then, finally, he asked.

“How do I become stronger?” It wasn’t what he was meant to ask, but it was what he wanted to know, what he needed to know. “The statements, they’re not enough anymore. But you must feed somehow, and I don’t think you’re running around, I don’t know, stealing people’s memories? Whatever you do. So you must know a way to—to amplify it. To extract more from it.”

“I do,” Elias said, and Jon felt something like a relief. A relief that was quickly replaced with fear as Elias pulled away to finally open the box, revealing a set of wicked looking needles inside.

“I think I prefer the biting.” Jon took a step back from the table, looking to the still locked door. Would they open it, if he asked? They should, rather than leaving him locked up with a monster. But then, he wasn’t sure they were that different, anymore.

“We can get back to that later.”

Jon flushed, but pushed onwards, hovering halfway between the door and the padded table. “What exactly are those supposed to be for?”

Elias’s lips twitched, and Jon scowled, the expression deepening as Elias failed to answer, instead nodding at the padded table.

“Please, remove your clothes and lie down on your stomach.”

The command left Jon gaping, mind running over all the horrifying possibilities, and finding he liked none of them. “What? Absolutely not.”

“Jon,” Elias said, leaving his box of torture implements where it was, and stepping towards Jon with an outstretched hand. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” No. The answer had to be no, should be no. Elias was a murderer, and even if they both were monsters, at least Jon hadn’t killed anyone. Because damning them to a lifetime of nightmares was so much better? A question Basira might’ve asked, were she here.

But Jon was alone.

“Why should I?” Jon asked. Trying to sound skeptical, knowing he sounded anything but.

“Because,” Elias said, taking another step, until somehow Jon’s hand was between his, warm and safe and held. “I know you, in a way no one else ever will.”

The protest he knew he should make died on his lips, his heart jumping as Elias brought
Jon’s hand to his lips. A cascade of sensation followed, sending Jon shivering, and needing to find out what else Elias would do. Trusting that whatever it was, it would bring Jon closer to knowing. To understanding.

Still, he hesitated, his fingers knotting in the hem of his shirt, worrying the worn fabric there, pushing through the hole he’d meant to mend. Elias pulled Jon’s hands away, tugging up the shirt as Jon lifted his arms over his head, leaving him shivering, scarred skin exposed as Elias moved to his shoes.

Jon was almost surprised how businesslike he was, barely lingering as he removed Jon’s shoes, his trousers, his underwear. Kneeling on the concrete floor, folding each item carefully and setting it aside.

“No biting?” Jon couldn’t help but remark.

“If you insist,” Elias replied with sly smile, wrapping one hand around Jon’s knee to nip at the sensitive skin at the back. A sensation Jon barely had time to process before Elias stood, placing a hand on the small of Jon’s back and again pushing him towards the padded table.

“Will it hurt?” Jon asked as he climbed onto the table.

A stupid question, but Elias answered it indulgently enough, smoothing a hand over Jon’s back even as he pressed Jon facedown against the padded surface. “Yes. But I think you’ll mind it less than you expect.”

He laughed at that, an annoying enough response Jon pushed himself up, or would have, if Elias hadn’t strapped his wrist to the surface, almost flush with his side.

“What are you doing?” Jon said, unable to keep the rising panic from his voice.

“Trust me.” Elias fastened his other wrist to the table, before moving to his ankles, and doing the same to them. Then a strap across his shoulders, and finally, a thick strap across his arse, leaving Jon unable to do more than squirm.

“You just strapped me to a table naked.” He squirmed again, to no avail. “And now you’re picking up a needle that almost certainly belongs in Artefact Storage.”

“I had it brought here, yes.” Elias traced a finger over his back, lines and arcing circles interweaving into some sort of pattern.

“So,” Jon continued, “I really don’t know why you expect me to trust you.” Even though he’d agreed before, even though he knew he had no other real option.

Jon bent his neck as best he could, in time to catch Elias leaning over him, to press a kiss to the base of his neck. “It’s funny. I used to find your protests annoying.” He ran an overly affectionate hand through Jon’s hair. “Now please, try not to move too much. Any errors could have...unforeseen side effects.”

“Oh, just brilliant.”

Any further protest he might make was cut off as the needle pressed against his back. Jon let out an involuntary whimper as Elias continued, each prick a bright point of pain, following the path his fingers had laid out. As they began to blur together, the pain melding into a constant ache, Jon let his eyes slip shut, reaching out, beginning to see the shape of it.

“A circle,” he said.

“To focus,” Elias said, dragging his finger over the arc he’d created and making Jon wriggle, grinding uncomfortably against the table. “To collect. Think of it as a reservoir, of sorts.”

“So the smaller statements...”

“Will actually be of some use, yes. Each bit of knowledge, part of a greater whole.” He pressed his hand flat against Jon’s back, encompassing the area he cleared planned to mark.

“So it’s a tattoo,” Jon said dubiously, shivering as Elias returned to his work.

“Something like that, yes. You are always worrying about seeming too old, aren’t you? Think of it as a chance to have the wild youth you managed to skip.”

“Like you had?” He almost asked more, wondering if Elias would explain now how an academically mediocre pothead had become the man who stood over him now. But the pain distracted him, left him twitching and languid in turns, so all he could do was press his cheek against the warm leather and breathe.

“Mm. Quite.”

Another prick, harder this time, or maybe Jon was becoming more sensitive. His teeth dug into his lip, a copper tang flooding his mouth.

“I don’t know why people do this,” he muttered.

“Expression.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Elias set the needle aside, picking up another. “Beauty.” He swept a hand over Jon’s skin. “Some even enjoy the process.” The needle stabbed in to the right of Jon’s spine, making Jon buck against the table.

“I don’t see why,” Jon said, though the protest sounded weak even to his own ears, as Elias continued to work his way upwards, outlining a channel in vivid green. Though how Jon knew this, he couldn’t say. But then, he rarely could these days.

“Oh, I think you do.”

Jon yelped as Elias gave his arse a light slap before continuing, highlighting a feeling Jon had been desperately ignoring. Already half-hard, and only getting harder as Elias continued to work, the pain setting not just the nerves of his back alight, but in his cock as well, a feeling only exacerbated further by his involuntary squirming.

“Elias, please.” Stop. Keeping going. He wasn’t certain anymore which he wanted, but that was the point, wasn’t it? That he needed guidance. And maybe this wasn’t what he would’ve chosen. Or maybe it was.

Elias didn’t stop, of course, only pausing for a moment to smooth a hand over Jon’s hair, to kiss his hot cheek, before continuing the mark the path. Stopping only at the strap across Jon’s shoulders, slipping a finger under for a moment, before letting it slap back into place. The sudden sting again sent Jon wriggling, grinding his now fully hard cock against the leather and making him groan.

“Oh, Jon. You’re doing wonderfully.” His hand slid over Jon’s shoulders, releasing the strap and holding Jon still with a palm against his shoulder blade. “I need you to hold still for me. Can you do that?”

“Fine.” Though he was aiming for reluctant, he thought he edged closer to desperate than he’d like. As usual, Elias had played him like a fiddle. And worse of all, Jon wasn’t truly upset.

As Elias finished the final length to the base of his neck, and began working his way back down, Jon was forced to admit that it was worse than that. Not only was he not upset. He was content, in a way he hadn’t been in so long. Safe and secure under Elias’s hands, following his careful direction.

“That’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it? Direct? Guide?”

Again Elias traced the design, sending a cascade of electricity across his skin, right to his cock.

“Elias.” Jon moaned. “Please.”

“Let go,” Elias said, finishing the downward line.

“No.” Somehow Jon knew. “Not yet.”

Elias laughed delightedly. “You really are a marvel.”

Again Elias switched the needle, and began to pick out the curve of the circle again, the point of collection. Everything seemed to blur and sharpen, the room fading around him only bringing the needle into greater focus, and sending corresponding sparks to his cock, slick with sweat and preform against the leather table. Some distant part of Jon was embarrassed, horrified at what Elias had done with him. But most of him was happy to drown, secure in the knowledge that Elias would wait for him, would watch him in his waiting arms. Once Jon was complete. Once they both were.

He reached the bottom of the circle, just above Jon’s arse, placing his free hand on it in a way that might have simply but supportive, but felt rather proprietary. But Jon found he no longer minded. That he perhaps even wanted Elias to feel this way, to want to own Jon, to possess him. For them both to be possessed in turn by the Eye, that watched them both, now and always.

The circle was almost closed, and Elias had slowed his progress. Jon tried to protest, to urge him to hurry up, but the only thing that emerged from his mouth was a wordless moan.

“Soon,” Elias said. “Just a little longer.”

Jon found himself nodding, cheek pressed hard against the leather, hips held firm. If he moved, it would all be over, and it couldn’t be over. Not yet. Not before he was ready. Each prick now send a wave of sensation to his cock, each almost enough to tip him over the edge. That was why Elias was going to slowly, he realized. He hated it, and hated how grateful he was for it, sucking in breath after shaky breath.

“Now, Jon,” Elias said, then shoved all the way into his skin, directly into his spine. The sensation that followed should have been excruciating, it was excruciating, but on some distant level Jon could barely comprehend, his entire focus instead on the release, the electric pleasure as the circle filled, and he came, squirming against the table with Elias’s hands on his shoulders, his lips pressed again to the base of his neck. Channeling into Elias something he only briefly saw, and barely understood. But knew he would comprehend fully, in time.

But for now, it fed him, filled him, leaving him boneless and relaxed on the table as Elias carefully removed his bindings, and helped Jon stand. He would’ve fallen, had Elias not slid a hand under his knees, lifting him in his arms and carrying over to the chair where Elias had sat when he’d come in. Leaving Jon cradled in his arms, face buried in the crook of Elias’s neck as his breath slowed, and the reality of it all set in.

“I won’t be able to explain this to Basira or the others,” Jon mumbled against his neck.

“I’d urge you not to explain it at all. I feel it’s best to keep unnecessary details to a minimum. What matters now is that you should be able to gain sufficient sustenance from the written statements, and thus lessen her concern.” He ran gentle fingers over Jon’s sweat damp hair, and Jon tried to lean into the touch, despite his exhaustion.

“Yes, you would say that.” It was the same thing Elias had done to him, concealing information. Was doing, even now. And yet for once, Jon wasn’t angry. He felt no urge to fight it.

Soon, Elias would let him know, and would know him. In a way no one else would.

“Yes.”

Jon lifted his head in surprise, to find Elias smiling. His face warm with pride and something else Jon couldn’t quite place. When he placed a finger under Jon’s chin, lifting it to press their lips together, Jon gladly accepted his guidance.

He knew what he was meant to do. And what he was meant to be.

Oh damn it's hot!

OP

Thank you!

This is wonderful! I'm always here for masochistic Jon, and I so love this dynamic between him and Elias. I love the slow build-up of everything. Jon reasoning away his absolutely monstery impulses and actions in the beginning. All of the biting. <3 Jon getting more and more wound up during the tattoo process and Elias easing up to make sure he can make it to the end. And Elias being so pleased with Jon's Archivist-ing <3 I love it!

OP

Thank you! <3 I’ve been loving how monster-y Jon’s been getting, and it’s fun to play with the way he’s embraced it more while still trying to rationalize it. And given his progress, I figured it was a perfect chance for some praise kink all while Elias helps the process along more. :D

OP

Thank you so much, that was absolutely amazing! You just hit every note so perfectly! And I love the explanation for the tattoo too, that it helps him control his appetite, so to speak.

One part I particularly enjoyed: “Because,” Elias said, taking another step, until somehow Jon’s hand was between his, warm and safe and held. “I know you, in a way no one else ever will.”
Yes, perfect, and so is Jon just giving in completely when he hears that. <3

OP, uh, author!OP

I'm glad you liked it! :D I've been meaning to write something for it forever, it's such a great idea, and then that ep happened and I thought hmm, how about this? So yes, thank you! <3

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Prompt Post: The Magnus Archives #1

Prompt: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Prompt: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Prompt: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing (1/???)

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing (1/???)

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing (1/???)

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing (1/???)

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing (1/???)

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing (1/???)

Re: Prompt: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Prompt: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing

Re: Fill: Elias/Jon, dub-con/non-con tattooing