A+: OTP
A: I love it
B: It’s really cute
C: Not a bad ship
D: I’m neutral on it
E: I don’t really like it
F: NOTP
N/A: I don’t know the ship well enough
for 12th, Pet play with Elias/Jon or Elias/Martin, where Elias just insidiously uses his authority to make his pet do more and more outrageous stuff until they're stuck acting like good little puppies. Could even be Elias exerciing his influence on both of them to reduce them to two good pups breeding
Those are NOTPs for me unfortunately, but these are good ideas and I hope someone writes them. (and also that they don’t get slammed with flamers for doing pet play, like I did when I previously wrote it for TMA. Sigh.)
5 down, 26 to go! I’m a little behind on actually posting a few fics I’m mostly finished with, but hey.
If you have any prompts you’d like to see in specific ships/scenarios, I’d love to hear from you! Main fandoms right now are The Magnus Archives, Wooden Overcoats, and Harry Potter (but I’d probably only write fic for Moody/Tonks and maybe some M/f noncon for the latter).
“I can make you do whatever I want now. Come on, TRY to oppose me, I dare you.”
“Aren’t you a good boy/girl, listening to every command I give you. Come here, let me give you a kiss.”
“Undress. I have bought you new clothes.”
“Are you hungry? Look at this plate of food. Don’t touch it. You’re only allowed to look. I love seeing your instinct lose from the control I have on you.”
“You’re my puppet now. How does it feel?”
“How long has it been? Five days? Six? Don’t fall asleep. I SAID DON’T FALL ASLEEP!”
“Hold your hand above the flame. It amuses me.”
“How dare you speak to me before being given permission?”
“I don’t remember telling you you could leave your room.”
“Look at how good you are to me. You never complain. I think you deserve a present.”
“I’m not going to lock the door this time, but you won’t leave anyway.”
“Begging isn’t going to make me give it to you. In fact, I quite like the sight.”
“I’m so sorry for disobeying you. I understand if you’re going to punish me now. I deserve it.”
“Do you remember what freedom feels like?”
“What would you be doing right now if you were allowed to do anything in the world, my dear?”
“Why are you complaining? I’m doing what’s best for you.”
“Of course I care about you. That’s why you’re not allowed to leave the house.”
“What did you just say? I think I made it very clear what happens to those who don’t listen to my commands…”
”How does it feel to think in my voice?”
“Your wish is my command. I’ll always listen to you.”
“Oh dear, I see you’ve had a little accident… I thought I’d told you to keep it in.”
Joan was standing in her pajamas in the doorway, blocking the entrance. “Just leave, Damien.” She rubbed her eyes. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“No, I had to see you.” He leaned in, smelling like scotch and dirty laundry. “I didn’t know what to say at the coffee shop. I wasn’t expecting... well.”
He smirked, but the expression looked as tired as Joan felt. It was as if they were both as worn down from life as it was possible to get without actually dying from exhaustion.
“Mark isn’t here,” Joan said coolly.
“Yeah, I know. I watched the place until I saw him leave with his overnight bag.” Damien hunched his shoulders, like his hoodie didn’t do much to protect him from the February wind. “Heading to his punchy time-traveling girlfriend’s, huh?”
Joan crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, did you say you watched my place?”
Damien’s face went scared for just a moment, then it hardened into defensive. “Hey, I didn’t want to ‘bother him,’ as you put it. Would you rather I’d just waltzed up and said ‘hey’ to him an hour ago? I can come back when he’s here, if you’d feel safer.” He laughed hollowly. “Not that you have a lot to fear from me now, of course. But if you’d rather I wait until Mark was here, I can come back...”
Joan would rather deal with Damien on her own than drag Mark into anything remotely connected to Damien any day. “Fine,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
A neighboring apartment door opened and closed, and a bundled-up couple walked by. Their laughter echoed back up the stairs as they descended.
“You really wanna have this conversation in front of the neighbors?” Damien asked.
Joan stepped back. Damien ducked in immediately, shaking himself off in the warm hallway. Joan locked the door way and walked back past Damien without saying a word. He followed her into the living room.
She’d been reading, although it had evolved into doing research while her abandoned novel book lay open and face down on the coffee table. She’d lit some candles and dragged her giant pillow out to her oversized couch. Damien visibly took in the room. His eyes stopped on her half-empty glass of pinot noir, and it was Joan’s turn to become defensive.
“It’s half seltzer,” she said. “Besides, I’m allowed to have a glass every other night.”
“If you say so.” Damien stuffed his hands back into his hoodie and shifted awkwardly.
“Would you like to sit down?” Joan asked with a politeness she didn’t feel.
“Why, thank you!” Damien dropped onto the sofa, nudging Joan’s pillow out of the way.
Joan carefully relocated her pillow to the armchair. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“Water.” Damien said, then a moment later, “Please.”
Joan brought Damien his glass of water and then sat down on the couch, as far away from him as she could. He chugged the water and then set the glass on the coffee table.
“Well,” he said. “Fuck.”
“Indeed.”
Damien turned to stare at her, but Joan just stared into the candle.
“So, Dr. B., when did you get—”
“June.”
Damien kicked off his shoes, and Joan’s sensitive nose caught a whiff of his well-worn socks. It wasn’t a repulsive smell, necessarily, but it brought back memories of their summer practice sessions.
“Does that mean—Am I—” Damien broke off with a scowl. “Well?!”
“No,” Joan said. “It was someone else.”
“Bullshit!” Damien laughed. “Come on, Dr. B. I know we weren’t talking much until our little... practice sessions, but I remember how sad and empty your life was. There’s no way it was anyone else.”
He was right, of course. But Joan just kept her face neutral but unhappy.
“How would you know?” Joan asked. “For all you know, I could have stated dating someone else in May.”
“Nuh-uh, no. I know you, and you wouldn’t do that.”
“Why does it matter to you?” Joan said.
“Because you should have told me!” Damien snapped. “You should have told me it was a possibility. You have no right to keep something like that from me—”
Joan sat up as straight as she could, turning to glare straight at Damien. “How dare you act like I owe you anything?! How dare you act like you didn’t kidnap my and try to brainwash my brother for three months while I cried myself sick and tried to find him every waking moment?! You have no idea how badly you’ve hurt me, how badly you’ve hurt Mark! And you don’t even care! You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”
She’d expected Damien to protest just as heatedly, maybe even to get up and pace like he sometimes did.
But instead, Damien just sat there and said quietly, “That’s not true. I care about you—”
“Oh, you care now?!” Joan snatched her wine glass off the table and took a gulp. “You sure didn’t seem to care in the fall, when I was continuing to give you free therapy and you treated me like I was trying to harm you. In fact, I distinctly you saying that Mark was okay, but everyone else—especially me—could go jump off a cliff.”
“I didn’t mean it,” Damien said sullenly. “I was just... look, if I’d known—”
“It shouldn’t matter.” Joan gritted her teeth. “You hurt me in so many ways, Damien. Deep, vicious, cruel ways that still hurt me. You hurt all of us: Mark, Sam, Chloe, Caleb—”
“To be fair, he hurt me back,” Damien said. “I lost my ability.”
“Well, thank God for small miracles,” Joan spat out. “But you clearly didn’t learn your lesson, because instead of just leaving me alone like I asked you to, you’re here to berate me for not telling you I was pregnant after everything you did to all of us.”
“I’m not!” Damien erupted, then quickly tried to get his temper back under control. “I’m not here to berate you. I’m...” He looked like he was trying to figure out how to say something in a foreign language. “I’m... sorry. I thought finding someone like me would finally make me happy. But it didn’t. It made everything worse. And you’ve actually been, well... pretty decent to me, all things considered. More decent than anyone else, has, even when you didn’t have to be. So I’m sorry I kidnapped your brother. And I’m sorry I tried to kidnap Wadsworth’s nephew. And I’m sorry I made you miserable when you were trying to help me.”
Joan was too taken aback at receiving an actual apology from Damien to say anything.
“Okay, that’s all I had to say,” Damien said. “Are you gonna let me be part of its life?”
“Why does it matter to you?” Joan repeated, but more softly this time.
“Because—” Damien sucked in a deep breath. “Because I may be a lot of things, but I’m not someone who fucking abandons their child. And I can live with a lot of shitty choices, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything I possibly could to be there for my child.”
“Ah.”
Of course this was solely about his own childhood trauma. Joan wasn’t foolish enough to believe Damien loved her her like that. Everyone knew he was in love with Mark. But for just a second, Joan had hoped that just maybe Damien had just enough genuine concern for someone else to want to team up with her again. As reluctant as she might be to admit it, it had been nice to practice and work with him together to infiltrate the AM.
Although given how that had turned out, she was probably lucky Damien had no desire to do it again.
“I’ll take a job with the AM,” Damien said abruptly.
“What?” Joan shifted back out of her thoughts. “Why?”
“They’ve been trying to get me to take one since I got out of there.” Damien hopped up and started pacing. He was always so restless, especially for someone so lazy in every other way. “It’s probably not much money, but maybe it’ll be a cushy office job with decent hours. Will you let me see it if I pay child support?”
Joan was still too taken aback to answer properly. “I... maybe.” She finished her glass of wine. “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay,” Damien said. “Thanks.”
Again, Joan was stunned that he didn’t try to push. Maybe losing his ability (and, she thought darkly, spending.a few months in the AM) had been good for Damien.
“In that case... how have you been?” Joan asked politely.
“Shitty,” Damien said. “You?”
“Very much the same.”
He settled back onto the couch, this time closer to her. Joan didn’t rise. She didn’t even push him away.
“Is Mark gone for the night?” Damien asked.
“Yes.”
He didn’t say anything, but she knew he wanted her to ask him to spend the night. And although Joan knew he was probably still up to no good, and that she was making an extremely foolish decision, she also knew her hormones were nearly as strong as her loneliness. And a sincere enough apology (to say nothing of the ability to say no) went a surprisingly long way.
“Would you like to spend the night here?” Joan asked.
Damien looked relieved as he stretched his arm across the back of the couch. “Yeah, I guess that would be okay.”
CW: Mentions of sex work, stealthing, and of course mind manipulation/compelled to reveal secrets. General civilian rubbernecking at sex workers’ pain is a given.
He was lying on Joan’s office sofa again, muddy shoes propped on the armrest. He was playing with one of the toys Joan kept for children (or especially fidgety patients)—a clear plastic ball that swirled with a galaxy of glitter and beads every time Damien turned it in his hands.
“Have you treated many kids?” Damien asked, echoing his question from that first night.
“Not here,” Joan said, then she found herself wanting to continue. “But... I did work with a few atypical children at the AM.”
“And the AM is that weird place you used to work for.”
“Yes.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your—” Joan’s sharp retort died on her lips. She did want to tell Damien. She wanted to tell him everything. “It wasn’t my choice to leave.”
“I see.” Damien didn’t look up from the toy. “And your brother, how old is he? Little kid? Grownup?”
Joan took a deep breath and tried to evade. “Why the fascination with my patients who are children, Damien? Would like to talk about your childhood?”
He laughed at that. “I’m good.” He turned the ball over and over in his hands, staring into the glittery swirl. “Why’d you leave the AM? You said it wasn’t your choice, but also that you still consult for them. What happened? You get laid off?”
Joan could think of little she wanted to talk about less than her work and subsequent firing from the AM. “I don’t want to talk about that, Damien.”
“Oh, but I do.” Damien finally looked up, and his gaze made her feel weak. “And you want what I want, so... Tell me about your brother. Is he caught up in all this too?”
She felt dizzy. “I don’t... He doesn’t...”
“Come on, Dr. B.,” Damien coaxed her. “Tell me all about it.”
Joan swallowed. She couldn’t fight him on this; she wasn’t strong enough. But she knew there was one topic he found even more interesting than her work at the AM: her sexual history.
“The AM hired me in grad school and paid for my PhD,” Joan said. “Before that, I did sex work to supplement my scholarships and grad assistantship. I thought that maybe working there would—”
“Wait.” Damien, as predicted, sat up so he could look at her better. “Go back. What did you say about sex work?”
“I did sex work to supplement my scholarships and grad assistantship before the AM hired me.”
“My, my, my.” Damien feigned shock, but she could sense some genuine surprise and admiration. “I never would have guessed someone as buttoned down as you would be into that.”
“I’m not ‘into’ it,” Joan said. “It was a job.”
“But did you like it?”
“Yes,” Joan said. “The hours were good. It allowed me to focus on my studies instead of exhausting myself—”
“You know what I mean. Did you get off on it?”
“Not really. I could get... aroused when I tried to relax, but for the most part, I had too much to think about, like not getting arrested or murdered.”
“Ohh, tell me more about that.” Damien leaned forward. “Did anyone ever hurt you?”
Joan’s stomach twisted. Civilians’ sick fascination with sex workers’ pain was nothing new to her, but she didn’t care to talk about it, especially not while being compelled to tell Damien. Still, it was better than the alternative.
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Joan said. “Although a client once took his condom off while we were having sex.”
“That’s it?” Damien looked disappointed.
“That was the only incident, yes. But it was traumatic to be sexually assaulted like that. And there was a lot of low-level fear every time I met a new cli—”
“Yeah, sure,” Damien said. “What’s the most depraved thing a client ever wanted you to do?”
“I don’t want...” Joan sighed as her resistance faded. “I... do want to tell you.”
Damien winked and leaned back on the couch. “I know you do. So... go on.”
Joan gripped the arms of her chair, but it wasn’t so bad. She did want to tell him all this, after all.
Joan assumed had serum hadn’t worked. Or at least, she assumed that until the pain exploded behind her eyes like the first rumbles of bass rolling through the ground at one of those concerts Mark used to drag her to.
“Um.” Damien watched from above as Joan fell on her hands and knees. “What are you doing?”
She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t speak at all, in fact. All Joan could do was clutch her head and cry from the pain.
“You’re freaking me out, Dr. B.,” Damien said. “Did it not work?”
He wanted her to stop crying—no, it was more than that. He wanted her to be okay and stop scaring him. She could feel it, but it wasn’t penetrating the way it normally did. Her brain was searching for the right connection, searching with the same anxious pulsing of a laptop seeking WiFi, and WiFi had always been patchy in her office at the AM. Patchy... yes, that was what she wanted: she wanted to reach out and touch a patch of his skin—
And just like that, Damien brushed his bare forearm against her fingers. Joan grabbed on like she was drowning, desperate to touch every inch of skin she could find. She knew, somehow, that touching him would make the pain better by way of cementing her copy of his ability.
When Damien stripped his hoodie off without her saying a word, Joan knew her theory had been right. And she further knew her serum had, indeed, worked.
“Wait,” Damien said abruptly, the sleeves of the hoodie still lingering around his hands. “Did you just—”
Joan’s head still hurt so badly, it was all she could do just to launch herself onto him. She yanked the hoodie out of the way, then tried to push his shirt up, but she couldn’t see well enough through the haze of her blinding headache. But she wanted him to strip for her, so he did.
“Wait, what the fuck?” Damien asked. “Are you doing this, Dr. B., or did I just discover a really weird and confusing new fetish?”
Joan could tell, as she climbed astride him, that he was already fully erect. She hadn’t even wanted him to be hard for her, necessarily—she hadn’t even realized she needed sex until right that moment. Because it wasn’t the sex she needed; it was the skin-to-skin contact. She needed her body pressed against every inch of his and then some. Joan needed to touch him to get inside his head and copy his power.
Her own head was clearing now. Joan realized she’d lost her glasses and underwear somewhere in the process, and Damien was completely naked underneath her. She also realized her skirt was hiked up, and that she was grinding hard against Damien, and that he was groaning and digging his fingers into her hips, and that somehow his body was, in fact, inside hers by now. If Damien minded that she was essentially violating him, he didn’t show it.
“Fuck, Dr. B.” Damien’s eyes rolled back. “It’s so hot feeling your brain poking around inside mine. Take what you need. Fuck.”
She needed to kiss him, and she did, pressing her tongue into his mouth as she pressed her touch-starved body into his. “Come inside me,” she breathed. “Right now.”
Damien wanted what she wanted so earnestly that he immediately thrust his hips up hard, panting as his cock shot off inside her. As his ejaculate leaked from her, it was as if all her pain was finally trickling out with it. Joan fell on Damien’s chest, panting for breath like she was the one who’d just orgasmed.
And just like that, Joan could see and think and breathe again.
“That was insane,” Damien said, but he didn’t sound like he minded. “I can feel you’re out of my head now, though. ”
Joan just sighed in relief.
“It’s okay.” Damien subconsciously stroked her back, the same delicious way Owen had always done for Joan after sex. “I’ll teach you how to mind control people for longer. You’ll be making me do your bidding all the time soon”
“People like you have no imagination.” / Ass worship/Watersports
This is completely unedited, sorry. I didn’t really have the time to spare to write it in the first place anyway, whoops.
Even as Joan’s fingers tightened around the door knob, she felt with terrifying excitement how much she wanted to let Damien in.
“Damien,” she said, trying to sound firm. “You need to go.”
“Nah.” He pushed on the door with one finger, grinning when Joan’s push slackened. “I think I need to be right here.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“Then why are you letting me in?” Damien stepped into her space, pressing his cool hoodie right up into her nose so she was forced to step back and let him in.
“How did you find out where I live?” Joan asked, holding the door open for him.
He scoffed. “Sarah told me before I even asked. You wanna close the door? It’s cold out there.”
Joan shut the door. Damien tossed his backpack to her and stripped his hoodie off. Joan wanted to peek inside the bag. But as soon as she did, she wished she hadn’t.
“What the hell are you planning to do to me?” she asked, and this time she was unable to control the fear in her voice.
“Do to you?” Damien laughed. “Oh, Dr. B. People like you have no imagination. No, the question you should be asking is, what the hell am I gonna let you do to me?”
“You’re not making me feel any better,” Joan said.
“Look,” Damien said, turning to face her. “You called me a ‘nuisance’ in our last session. If you can’t get rid of me, don’t you want the next best thing?”
“And what’s that?” Joan was curious in spite of herself.
Damien licked his lips. “Well, first I was thinking you’d put the leash on me and wear your kinkiest lingerie and highest heels. Then maybe, uh...” He winked at her. “Well, I’m sure you can feel the rest.”
She did, in fact. Her usual vanilla sexual repertoire had suddenly been replaced with an intense need to step on Damien, to make him lick black leather boots she didn’t even own, to sit on his face and piss on him and fuck his hungry little ass so hard with the giant strap-on he’d bought just for her—
“Damien!”
“What? Never hurts to ask, right?”
Joan didn’t know what to say for a long moment. But she could feel his want tugging inside her, even if she couldn't resist him.
“I thought you said I wasn’t your type,” she said at last.
“Yeah, you’re a little short for my tastes. But I can overlook that if you’re in heels. Especially if I’m on the floor.”
Joan threw his backpack back at him. “Find someone else.”
“I’m bored with everyone else,” Damien pouted. “Come on, Doc! Play with me. I’ve never played like this with a therapist. You should feel honored I’m opening up to you like this, and so soon after we’ve started seeing each other!”
“I don’t have sex with my patients, Damien.” Joan walked past him into her kitchen.
“Who said anything about sex?” He followed her, too close behind her, unnerving her. “You can stay clothed the whole time. Come on, Dr. B.! I have needs, you know. You don’t really want me to go out there and use my ability to force some unsuspecting stranger into kinky sex, do you?”
“No.” Joan stopped so abruptly Damien bumped into her. “But I don’t want to have sex with a patient, either.”
“It’s the next logical step after all those juicy secrets you told me,” Damien persisted.
“No, it’s not!” Joan glanced over her shoulder incredulously. “None of this is remotely logical, Damien!”
“Well, okay, maybe it’s not,” he admitted. “But I can tell you want it, just a little. What will it take to get you there?”
The stood there in silence for several heartbeats, his erection pressed into her back. She trembled, trying to resist her desire to tell him everything. But she couldn’t. Or, she didn’t want to.
“You might try some actual foreplay,” Joan said slowly. “I don’t want to have sex with you. That is to say—my body wants to have sex with you, but my convictions are strong enough I know I don’t really want to, despite what my body is telling me. But if I did want to have sex with you, you could at least warm me up to the idea instead of bursting through my front door and demanding it.”
“Now we’re talking.” Damien’s voice lowered to a soft purr. He leaned in to sniff the back of her neck. “God, you smell good. I can’t wait bury my nose between your ass cheeks—”
Joan burst out laughing so hard she doubled over. “Please tell me that was not intended to be foreplay.”
Damien looked offended, even out of the corner of Joan’s eye. “Fine, then. If you’re going to be a snob about it, why don’t you show me what you like?”
That sobered Joan again. She hated the idea, but goodness, she did want to show him how normal humans initiated sex. After her quickest internal struggle yet, she straightened and took a deep breath. She leaned back against Damien, the tiniest of trust falls, and rubbed her backside against his erection through both their clothes. She relished the way his breath caught.
“Oh fuck, Joan—” Damien squeezed her breasts hard.
“Stop,” Joan said firmly. “You don’t touch me except where I give you permission. And you will never, ever call me Joan again.”
He twitched against her spine. “What do you want me to call you? Mistress?”
“I think Dr. Bright will be just fine.” Joan repositioned Damien’s hands to her sides, then she reached up and pulled his head down. “Kiss my neck,” she ordered. “Lightly. Like you’re trying to tickle me with your lips.”
Damien eagerly obeyed. Joan’s body was thawing from a long freeze now. She guided his fingers to the buttons on her blouse.
“Unbutton them,” she said. “Gently. If you rip any off, I’ll make you sew them back on.”
“Okay, Dr. Bright,” Damien said. “Like this?”
“Yes, good boy,” Joan said.
He groaned into her neck. “God, I love it when you call me that. Come on, Dr. B., let me stick my tongue in your wet pussy already—”
“Shh.” She reached back and covered his mouth with her hand. “I don’t like that kind of talk. It’s a turn-off, at least when I’m not aroused enough to want it.”
She could feel Damien’s confusion without seeing his face, but she wanted to be in charge, to tell him what she really liked, even if it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be controlled and denied, for once in his life.
“What do you want me to say, then?” he asked, sounding only a little miffed.
“Tell me all the non-sexual things you like about me,” Joan said. “Give me the best shoulder rub of my life. And maybe, if you do a good enough job worshipping my mind, I’ll let you worship other parts of me.”
“Fuck, okay, um.” Damien dragged his hands up her sides and dug his thumbs into her shoulders. “Wow, your shoulders are tight. You spend too much time working, huh, Dr. B.?”
“Turn it into a compliment,” Joan instructed.
“Huh. Okay, how about... you work so hard?”
“Better.”
“It’s really cool that you’re an expert on freaks like me.”
“You’re not a freak. But go on.”
“I don’t meet a lot of people who even come close to being as smart as me. And none ever figured me out, much less in the first five minutes. Pretty hot that you did.”
“Take my blouse off,” Joan encouraged Damien in a low voice, then, as he prepared to toss it aside, “Lay it neatly on the coffee table.”
“And it’s pretty hot the way you work for some kind of shady secret organization,” Damien went on, his hands trembling as he went back to massaging her neck and shoulders. “Secret Agent Bright.”
“Not really my job description, but I’m glad you find it so... exciting.” Joan reached back to stroke her fingertips up Damien’s stomach.
“God, yeah, I do.”
“Kiss down my back as you get on your knees,” Joan said.
Damien couldn’t obey fast enough. “I like your tattoo,” he said between kisses. “You have pretty decent taste in ink.”
“Why, thank you, Damien,” Joan said. A little thrill of control pulsed through her as she groped behind her for his head and grabbed him by the hair. “Now I think you should get under my skirt and kiss the back of my thighs. And only the back of my thighs. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, Dr. Bright, I understand.” Damien eagerly kissed and slobbered all over Joan’s legs. “Fuck, this is taking forever.”
“I think even you understand how much better it is when you’re made to wait,” Joan said.
“Yeah, sure, I guess,” Damien said. “You know best...”
Joan smiled at that and decided to reward him. “I’m glad you know your place. Why don’t you pull my underwear down and start kissing my bottom? And Damien? You’d better be sure to tell me exactly how perfect it is if you want to ‘bury your nose between my cheeks.’ Or if you want to stick your tongue up my wet pussy, or take my giant strap-on in your ass, or gulp down my piss like nectar, or anything else you’re wanting me to do to you.”
Damien made a frustrated little whimper under Joan’s skirt. “I thought you didn’t like that kind of talk.”
“I said I didn’t like it until I was excited enough,” Joan corrected.
“Well, it’s exciting me, which is pretty unfair.”
“Why is it unfair, Damien?” Joan asked. Upon receiving no answer, her smile widened. “I never gave you permission to stop worshipping my ass.”
As Damien left sloppy kisses all over her backside, Joan closed her eyes and decided to embrace her inner dominatrix—at least until Damien was thoroughly punished for being such a nuisance, even if he didn’t take it as a punishment.
“Can you feel this?” Wadsworth asked, sounding almost bored. “Or... how about now?”
Joan just screamed in response. She’d passed the point of witty comebacks more than an hour ago; she’d passed the point of having any sort of dignity a few minutes later, when the involuntary muscle contractions had forced her to wet herself. And she’d passed the point coherent speech... well, she didn’t know exactly how long ago, but it felt like Wadsworth had been stabbing electrified needles into her muscles for at least an hour.
“Really, Joan, it’s practically acupuncture,” Wadsworth said in amusement. “Opposite outcome, obviously, but same idea.”
Joan could only gasp as her body seized up again.
“Stop it!” Mark shouted. “God fucking dammit, stop! I told you, I can’t do it! You broke my goddamn superpower when you locked me in a coma for two years! Just stop fucking torturing my sister!” He growled in frustration. “Do it to me instead, you fucking coward!”
“Oh, believe me,” Wadsworth assured Mark. “If I thought there was any chance pain would help you recover, I wouldn’t hesitate to use it on you. But unfortunately, that doesn’t seem likely.”
She paused the electrical current, and Joan slumped against the chair she was bound to. Her whole body was bruised and whiplashed from all the jolting against her restraints. Joan and Wadsworth were in an “experimental room” adjacent to one side of Mark’s plexiglass cell, while Damien was sulking on the other side—just out of range to use his ability on Wadsworth.
“I think we’ll give it another go,” Wadsworth said cheerfully. “I need you to really concentrate, Mark.”
“No,” Joan begged, her voice so hoarse it was barely above a whisper. “Ellie, please, no, no!”
Wadsworth ignored her and sent electricity surging painfully through Joan’s exhausted muscles. Joan couldn’t even scream this time. Her throat felt like it was spasming shut. She was going to die, and Mark would stay the AM’s prisoner forever, and it was all her fault—
She sobbed in relief as Wadsworth suddenly ended the torture. Joan half-raised her head. Wadsworth hand lingered on the dial, but she was staring at it in surprise.
“Aren’t—” Joan struggled to catch her breath. “Aren’t you going to, to give us another smugly condescending one-liner?”
“No,” Wadsworth said. “I... don’t want to?”
Joan struggled to swallow a mouthful of saliva. She tasted blood; she must have bitten her tongue at some point, but she could barely register the pain. Then Wadsworth’s words finally hit her.
“Wait,” Joan said. “What did you just say?”
“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” Wadsworth said slowly, almost reluctantly. “I want... I want to let you go. How strange. It doesn’t feel at all like I imagined from your notes.”
“Mark.” Joan tried to focus her eyes on her brother, ignoring the sweat dripping from her brow. “Mark, you need to have her—”
“Uh, I’m not doing it, Joanie,” Mark said.
Joan squinted, trying even harder to focus past Mark at Damien’s cell. Even without the sweat, her lack of glasses made it difficult. But she could see Damien, his hands pressed against the clear walls allowing him to look through Mark’s room into her own.
“Tell him the only way out is she gives her passcode,” Joan said.
Mark turned and relayed the message to Damien. A moment later, Wadsworth slowly typed a six-digit code into the panel. With another push of a button and lazy pat of her hand on the biometric scanner, Damien’s and Mark’s cells slid open. They both rushed in to the experimental room, and Mark unbuckled Joan’s straps while Damien cornered Wadsworth.
“Not so high and mighty now, huh?” Damien sneered. “I could make you kill yourself right here, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop me.”
“Damien, no.” Joan rubbed her bruised wrists as Mark freed them. “If you kill someone, especially the director of the AM, they will definitely treat us like criminals.”
“Really? So what the fuck have the past two months been?” Damien snapped. “Atypical summer camp? Fuck that. I’m getting rid of her.”
“I’m with Damien,” Mark said. “Do it. But make it fast, because I don’t think Joanie can walk, and I still have bad days in that department.”
Joan closed her eyes even after Mark told her it was over. A moment later, Damien was yanking her up out of the chair. She leaned heavily on him.
“I got her key card,” Damien said. “Do we need anything else to get out of here? Her finger? Eyeball?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Joan said. “It’s just a normal government building.”
“Agree to disagree,” Mark said.
“Yeah.” Damien licked just under his nose, which Joan saw now was bleeding—she assumed from the exertion of straining his ability. He wiped his nose on the shoulder of his hospital scrubs. “Can you get us out of here, Doc?”
“I think so.” Joan pointed a shaky hand toward the left corridor. “We’re lucky. Wadsworth is so arrogant she never really believed Mark would get that far on his first try. I’m glad she wasn’t counting on you.”
“Me fucking too,” Damien muttered.
“Me three,” Mark said.
They were nearly out of Tier Five when an alarm sounded. Joan tightened her grip on the back of Damien’s shirt.
“That’s a lockdown alert,” she said.
“Oh, fuck that!” Damien tossed Joan over his shoulder. “Come on, Mark, buddy. Let’s hope you were right about being able to beat me in a race.”
“You’re on!” Mark laughed grimly. “Last one out’s a prisoner without due process.”
This event is open to all fanfiction and original fiction.
Please specify at the top what it is (if you have an original project, don’t forget to link us to it) and in the case of fanfic tell us what fandom it is. I will reblog all here on @fictober18 .
Make sure to follow @fictober18 for all the goodness.
The prompt list for 2018 is complete! Most of what’s on here is the same as last year, but with some new additions and being a bit more specific on some prompts, there’s a total of 120 potential prompts to choose from. The list has also been randomized, so that they fall on different days. So, without further ado, the list!
1. Deep-Throating | Inflation | Face-Sitting | Masks
2. Ass Worship | Begging | Medical play | Watersports
3. Sensory Deprivation | Temperature Play | Edgeplay | Knife Play
4. Spanking | Mirror Sex | Spit-roasting | Dacryphilia (Crying)
5. Feet | Sadism/Masochism | Feederism | Shotgunning
6. Daddy | Corset | Cock Worship | Biting
7. Praise-kink | Body Swap | Aphrodisiacs | Incest
8. Blood/Gore | Prostitution/Sex Work | Fisting | Hate-fucking/Angry Sex
9. Titfucking | Sthenolagnia (Strength/Muscles) | Bondage | Lingerie
10. Hair-pulling | Waxplay | Micro/Macro | Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic)
11. Object Insertion | Sounding | Cross-dressing | Tribadism/Scissoring
12. Licking | Pet Play | Rimming/Analingus | Costume
13. Weight Gain | Distant/Distracted Sex | Gags | Creampie
14. Asphyxiation | Cunnilingus | Distention | Tentacles
15 Forniphilia (Human Furniture) | Overstimulation | Intercrural Sex |Uniforms
16. Nipple Play | Frottage | Body Worship | Sixty-nine
17. Masturbation | Seduction | Collaring | Orgasm Denial
18. Fucking Machine | Latex | Role Reversal | Xenophilia
19. Public | Formal Wear | Straitjacket | Cock-Warming
20. Urophagia | Hot-Dogging | Emeto | Dirty talk
21. Bukakke | Food play | Suspension | Branding
22. Impact Play | Cuckolding | Hand-jobs | Threesome (or more)
23. Scars | Master/Slave | Shibari | Size Difference
24. Pegging | Leather | Lapdances |Shower/Bath
25. Tickling | Scat | Boot Worship | Olfactophilia (Scent)
26. Lactation | Roleplay | Smiles/Laughter | Toys
27. Exhibitionism/Voyeurism | Degradation | Gun Play | Against a wall
28. Omorashi | Stripping/Striptease | Vore | Humiliation
29. Glory hole | Double (Or more) Penetration | Sleepy Sex | Massage
30. Gagging | Stockings/Tights/Pantyhose | Breast Worship | Swallowing
31. Any combination of the above!
Again, this isn’t really a formal challenge or anything. More of just a general attempt to produce some filthy, filthy things in October of 2018. Sure, it may be early, but some people (myself included) like having plenty of time to plan things out. Feel free to drop an ask in the inbox with any questions!
@detectivejoan requested Nightmares + Wadsworth. Naturally, I decided to have Wadsworth be the cause of other people's nightmares. TW for suicidal ideation and dubious consent (due to codependency).
Feel free to request more pairings! No guarantee when I’ll be able to get to them, though.
Seizures, please! Especially absence or complex partial, if you're comfortable writing those types of seizures.
Whoa hey yeah I actually have focal seizures! I don’t know as much about complex partial but I didn’t study neuroscience for all those years for nothing. ;) I’ll even pair it with some “Joan gets Damien’s ability” AU so you can have some mind control. Cheers!
(This is also apparently a “Sam never came to therapy” AU, just in the spirit of Bad Things Happen I guess.)
You can also read it on AO3. And here’s my Bad Things Happen Bingo Card.
Focal
“Focal epilepsy,” Joan announced over the rim of her coffee mug.
Damien rubbed his eyes, standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “What?”
“The tremor. I think it’s focal epilepsy. Probably in the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. I knew something like this would happen.”
“You mean, like, seizures?” Damien yawned. “Wait, have you been up since the 4am check?”
“I’ve been researching.” Joan gestured to her open laptop. “I told you it wasn’t Parkinson’s.”
“Okay, but you gotta admit, it was a pretty good theory.” Damien yawned again. “Because dopamine and all that.”
“Yes, yes,” Joan said impatiently. “It was an interesting hypothesis, but it was obviously incorrect. My symptoms didn’t match at all. The tremors are too sporadic, and I’ve never heard of anyone occasionally losing awareness during a Parkinsonian tremor.”
“Fine, whatever.” Damien scratched his chin stubble. “Is there more coffee?”
“Of course,” Joan said, her eyes back on the computer screen. “I’m not you. I made enough to share.”
“Hey, I made enough for you yesterday!” Damien protested, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Only because you pitied me.”
“It wasn’t pity. I was fucking worried.” Damien scooped entirely too much sugar into his mug and stirred it. “You had three night terrors or whatever they are. Freaked me out.”
“Right.” Joan’s tone softened slightly. “Did I have any last night?”
“Just the one around, uh, I think it was just after midnight,” Damien said. “Do you remember waking up afterward?”
“No, I don’t think I do,” Joan said. “Was I nonsensical again?”
Damien shook his head as he retrieved the lactose-free milk from the fridge. “Not really. You just told me you were tired, and you should have given yourself time travel powers instead.”
“That’s probably true.” Joan smiled. “Class D abilities are significantly more complicated to install, though. I’m not even sure such a thing is possible.”
“And mind control can be pretty fun, especially when you have someone to do it with you.”
“It’s not mind control,” Joan admonished him. “I told you, mind control doesn’t exist. But your ability does have its practical purposes.”
Joan glanced at the dwindling amount of coffee in her mug, wanting Damien to bring her more. And, just like magic, Damien brought the coffee pot to her and topped up her mug.
“Thank you, Damien,” Joan said. “I see now what an ego boost it is when the other person can’t detect your ability.”
“Hey!” Damien’s face was simultaneously delighted, annoyed, and worried. “You shouldn’t be using it. Not if it’s giving you seizures.”
“Using it isn’t the problem,” Joan said. “I must have developed a lesion during installation. I highly doubt just using the ability could do that level of damage.”
“Still. Maybe you shouldn’t risk it.”
“Damien, I’m touched.” Joan raised a brow. “Are you worried about me?”
“Obviously. I don’t know shit about taking care of coma patients. The last thing I need is two of you.”
“I’ll try not to make your life more difficult,” Joan said dryly.
Damien sat down at the table and idly flipped through the nearest neuroscience text. “Would you really have given yourself with time travel powers instead? If you could’ve?”
“For Mark?” Joan glanced at the wall separating them from the living room, as if she could see through it to the hospital bed on the other side. “I would have given myself cancer if that’s what it took.”
“Jesus, dramatic much?”
“I’m serious,” Joan said. “I would do literally anything to rescue Mark’s consciousness from wherever it is in time.”
“I guess that explains all the crazy shit you keep making me do with you. Are we seriously meeting your narc ex-boyfriend in a parking garage next week?”
“We’ll be fine.”
“Well yeah, that’s one possibility. The other is, we get tased and thrown in the back of a van and driven to a remote and needle-happy government facility.”
“We’re a pair of mind manipulators,” Joan scoffed. “I think we’ll be all right.”
“I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but don’t get cocky, Dr. B.” Damien stuck his foot on the chair next to him. “This ability doesn’t make you invincible.”
“No, but it definitely doesn’t hurt when it comes to—when it comes to—” Joan smelled gasoline and immediately set her coffee mug down. “I need my recorder.”
“Tremor?” Damien asked.
All the fingers on Joan’s right hand began to twitch. She meant to say something, but she found herself mute. Damien’s hand closed around her wrist, and then… confusion. She blinked, trying to focus despite her foggy head.
“How long did that one last?”
Damien raised her left hand so he could look at her watch.
“72 seconds, give or take the time it took me to start the timer.”
“I need my recorder.” Joan groped around until she found the device. “I need to take notes.”
“No, you need to go lie down.” Damien tried to tug her out of her seat. “Let’s go. Don’t make me carry you. I have the upper body strength of a pre-teen girl, so I’ll probably drop you.”
Joan ignored him and turned her recorder on. “August twentieth, nine or so in the morning. I experienced another olfactory hallucination just before losing awareness during what I think was a complex partial seizure.” She turned to Damien. “Were both my hands trembling, or just one?”
“Uh, both?”
“Are you sure?”
“Let me think about it.” Damien scratched his eyebrow in thought. “I think it was both.”
“Possible bilateral myoclonic activity at onset.” Joan paused again to inventory her senses. “No postictal sensory or language deficits that I can detect, although I’m not a neurologist and I am evaluating myself. I’ll have to teach Damien how to do a basic neurological exam—” She flexed the fingers on her right hand. “Scratch that. Mild postictal weakness in my right hand. I think… yes, I think there may be some mild loss of sensation in my fingers. I’m no neuropsychologist, but postictal paralysis almost always lateralizes to the contralateral hemisphere—”
Joan’s cell phone alarm interrupted her.
“The 10 a.m. check,” she said wearily.
“I’ll do it,” Damien said. “Lie down.”
“No,” Joan said. “He’s my brother. He’s my responsibility. I’ll do it.”
It was true that Joan felt responsible for Mark. But they both knew her real reason for wanting to do the check was so she could talk to Mark.
Damien helped Joan stand, but she was mostly steady on her feet by then. She grabbed the supplies from the kitchen counter and went to the living room, where she switched out the empty IV bag for a full one. Damien swapped out the catheter collection bag before Joan could get to it, and then he lurked in the kitchen to give her some privacy.
Joan took Mark’s hand in hers and brushed his hair out of his face. It was getting too long. She’d have to cut it as soon as her hands were steady for long enough not to cut Mark. But she could worry about that later.
“It’s Joanie.” She kissed his forehead. “I love you, Mark. I never know if you can hear me. I imagine the part of you that could is somewhere else. But just in case… I love you. And I will get you out of there.”
The sunlight fell across the white sheet covering Mark’s legs. His body breathed in a kind of sync with the softly beeping heart rate monitor. Joan squeezed his hand, willing him to open his eyes, kick his leg, anything.
But no matter how hard Joan wanted Mark to wake up, she couldn’t even make him move his fingers.
vaporwave
titsay
romaincrisis
pixelskylines
