July 2025

fucked up jontim!! not over the fact tim considered jerking off through Jon’s abdomen, good stuff, the whole fic is honestly <3

Thank you, glad you like it! I do so enjoy writing fucked up JonTim and that other people enjoy my writing. Tim’s just like, well I could but I should probably ask first. Of course Jon is down because these two are so normal.

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

anaceshornyblog:

Ask and ye shall receive, under the cut for length because this got long. You also get two POVs for extra fun.

Keep reading

okay, hear me out, peter fucking jon slowly in contrast to everyone else who always fucks jon fast, and jon likes the feeling of peter using him slow and taking his time

*whispers* I don’t even ship them what the Hell happened, it’s five pages. Here’s whatever this is, I think I was possessed.

Jon hadn’t known what to expect after from Peter after he had accepted Jon’s rather impulsive proposition. It was just, Elias wasn’t here, and Jon had gotten so used to going to his office when he needed to get out of his head.

Jon almost expected him to ask if he was joking, yell at him to get out of his office, laughing at him for the audacity. Only Peter hadn’t, instead he had looked at Jon like he was a three course meal, or a sacrificial lamb that had so kindly placed itself on the altar. Considering it was his desperation to not be alone, to be touched and held, even if it was just to be used that had led him to this, maybe the comparison was apt. His friends were gone or hated him, and Elias wouldn’t even see him, a real treat for the embodiment of loneliness he was.

“Well Archivist why don’t we start with you getting undressed,” Peter hadn’t moved from his seat behind Elias’s his desk, seeming content to watch for the moment. Jon could feel his face heat up, momentarily thankful that his complexion hid his blushing. Awkwardly he pulled his sweater off setting the rather threadbare article aside as he started to undo his shirt buttons. Usually Elias would always take charge, instructing him, or simply taking matters in his own hands, the lack of any of that was making him wonder if this had been a mistake. Realizing Peter hadn’t moved at all, not even shucking his jacket he frowned slightly.

“Aren’t you going to…? Jon trailed off gesturing to his clothing unsure how to complete the thought. Peter gave him another bland smile, leaning back in the chair with a creak.

“I’m just enjoying the show Archivist,” His eyes trailed along Jon’s body, it didn’t make him feel seen like Elias’s gaze, in fact that ever present attention was gone for the first time in as long as he could remember. Jon wondered if he turned around if the door would still be there, or if it would just be a never-ending fog. Was the chill in the air just due to his newly lacking clothing, or chill of the One Alone? Deciding to not find out he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, trying and failing to ignore the way that Peter’s attention fixed on his chest with a little appreciative hum.

It was a struggle not to stop and cover his chest, which was ridiculous, considering where this was leading. Maybe it was just how disconnected things seemed, like the world was receding. He could feel his nipples pebbling in the chill as the temperature dropped. Still he was never one to flee so the rest of his clothes quickly followed till he was standing there naked, clothes in a pile at his feet.

“Well aren’t you just lovely, come take a seat,” Peter’s bland smile didn’t waver as he patted the desk in front of him, sliding his chair back to give Jon room. Jon considered if fleeing at this point would be better, even without his clothes, no one was in the Institute at this hour, it was just him and Peter. Even as he turned the thought in his mind his feet were already moving, carrying him to sit in front of Peter, ramrod straight unsure what the sailor planned from here. Jon was used to Elias’s expectations, Peter was an unknown.

“You really should relax a bit Archivist, this is supposed to be pleasant,” Peter stood and Jon suddenly felt very small, as Peter towered over him, even seated on the desk. Jon once more considered whether this was a mistake, he could still run, probably, go back to his Archives. Only he was curious now, none of this had gone how he expected, and even with the Eye muted, curiosity was still worked deep into his bones. Peter raised a hand and Jon couldn’t help but flinch, eyes shutting for a moment, fluttering open again as Peter cupped his cheek. His hand was gentle and Jon was struck by the urge to press into it, the only warmth in the room. “Poor thing, is everyone else so rough with you?”

Jon didn’t know how to respond, to explain, Jon had expectations for things like this, he was used to being used, treated like an object, fucked fast and hard. Expected Peter to follow a similar pattern. Some perfunctory preparation if anything, loosen him up just enough to thrust inside him without damaging his dick. Only Peter seemed in no rush, as his thumb brushed against his cheekbone, leaving Jon feeling like a skittish animal that isn’t sure if relaxing meant comfort or yielding to a butcher’s blade.

Peter’s beard is rough against Jon’s skin as he guides Jon’s lips to his, tongue sliding in after brief contact. It was soft and gentle, like he had all the time in the world, like he knew, no one would find them in the fog. It was so different from Elias’s hungry kisses that made Jon feel like he a second away from being devoured whole, a gentle campfire, to a forest fire, and Jon couldn’t help but relax his eyes sliding shut once more. It was almost impersonal in a way, Jon could have been anyone, there was no desperate huger on Peter’s part, just gentle exploration. Peter’s hands had started to roam his body now, and Jon couldn’t hold back a breathy moan as he squeezed his breasts, his hands large enough to cover them completely, or maybe they were just small enough.

“Maybe I should steal you,” Peter’s voice sounded distant, and Jon wondered if he opened his eyes if he would see Peter or just fog. His emotions seemed dull, he knew he should feel something at Peter’s words, fear, or anger, not just cool detachment. Really did it matter if Peter made good on his words? Whatever Peter wanted to do he could, no one would come save, he was alone. His thoughts would have been alarming, but his panic was easily muffled by the fog flowing around him, dampening his thoughts. Though as Peter continued to grope at his chest physical sensation was bright and sharp, especially when one of his hands was replaced with lips and teeth.

“Ah…ahh,” Jon couldn’t find it in his dulled thoughts to feel embarrassed at his whimpering moans, squirming on the desk. He could already feel a dampness between his legs, and a growing desire to be touched there. Despite his attempt to entice Peter by spreading his legs, twitching his hips forward Peter continued to suck on his tits with a single-minded intensity. Swapping between them anytime Jon’s seemed to be getting used to it, to pull forth more little moans.

It could have been a few minutes or hours, the clock on the wall obscured by fog when Jon managed to get a glimpse in that direction. Only when Jon had progressed from wordless moaning, to pathetic pleas, to whining Peter’s name, to gasping breaths that Peter seemed to take mercy on him. It wasn’t instantaneous when Jon finally felt pressure on his clit, but it was close as Jon was pushed over the edge. His hips pressed up seeking more pressure as he keened clutching at Peter grasping the fabric of his shirt as he rode out his orgasm. Letting go to collapse back on the desk feeling his release dripping down the inside of his leg.

“Oh you’ve made a bit of a mess of my trousers, I’d have taken them off if you’d warned me,” Jon grumbled, trying to convey how little that was his fault without words, not bothering to try and sit up, eyes only half-open. He could hear fabric rustling as Peter undressed, clothes joining his on the floor judging by the sounds, though Jon couldn’t see him, couldn’t keep track of him. So Jon was not prepared for a large finger to press into his cunt, stretching his loosened walls open easily, voicing his displeasure with a soft whine. The finger withdrew and things were silent for a bit, Jon wondered if Peter had decided to abandon him in the fog. Panic welled slowly in his chest as the seconds ticked by, his breathing shortening to little panicked gasps.

“Easy boy, I’m still here, scared to be alone?” Peter sounded like he was talking to an easily spooked animal, his voice right near his ear startled him out of his panic. If Peter hadn’t laid a hand on Jon’s chest holding him down he might have fallen off the desk. Panic turned to embarrassment, good lord was he really on the edge of having a panic attack because Peter had let him take a few seconds to recover? Absolutely pathetic. Jon let himself relax again, reminding himself that he was in the Institute, even if the fog had come to occupy this office, his Archives were still there, even if Peter did leave him in the fog.

“Shut up,” He grumbled and Peter laughed as he carefully pulled him back till his head was tilted over the edge of the desk. The position giving Jon a first glimpse at what Peter no doubt expected him to take at some point in this endeavor. The slight panic must have shown on his face as Peter pat his cheek a bit condescendingly, though the flare of indignation, like most of his thoughts was muted. Peter was even still wearing his shirt and coat, only his lower half bare.

“Bit more than you’re used to?” Jon opened his mouth to reply, but Peter took the invitation sliding the head of his dick past his lips to rest it on his tongue, holding his head still. He paused, letting him get used to the stretch to his jaw, which Jon was nominally grateful for, even as drool dripped from the corners of his mouth. The pause didn’t last long as Peter slid forward, slowly and deliberately, pausing each time Jon panicked, letting him adjust before continuing. As he reached the back of Jon’s throat he held it there, and Jon had to swallow around it as drool continued to pool in his mouth and he could feel his dick pulsing against his tongue. He even managed to get a moan out of Peter, it wasn’t loud but it was a break from the cold detachment.

“Good boy,” Jon felt a pulse of warmth in his chest at the praise, trying to coax more of a reaction swallowing around him, trying to illicit more praise. The hand in his hair tightened as Jon moaned around him, keeping his head still as Peter started to thrust into his mouth, alongside gentle praise. Jon could feel his eyes water, it had been a while since someone had been gentle with him. With a sigh Peter pulled back removing his cock from Jon’s mouth completely with a soft pop. Jon panted, staring up at Peter his mouth opened in invitation, unsure what his next plan was.

“As lovely as your mouth is…” Peter’s voice trailed off as he made his way around the desk. Jon tried to sit up but he was held down, with a hand pressed against his abdomen and a small admonishment. Peter’s other hand was back at his cunt, lightly brushing his clit before sliding two fingers inside. The small break meant the fingers inside him weren’t overwhelming, just a pleasant stretch accompanied by the filthiest sounds from how wet he was. “Can you get pregnant Archivist?”

“N-no,” Jon whined his words stuttering through his abused throat, though in all honestly he wasn’t sure? He hadn’t gotten around to restarting any of his prescriptions, his body just seemed to be stuck. Considering he had been basically dead for a time he wasn’t quite sure how all that worked. Surely not right?

“Shame, I can only imagine how Elias would react if it took, he’d be livid probably, that I beat him to it.” Jon could feel himself squeeze down at the fingers still pressing inside him at the thought. Jon was not currently thinking straight enough to consider any of these implications. Peter looked thoughtful as he added a third finger making Jon whine at the stretch. He pulled back for a moment, his fingers returning coated now in something slick easing the way. All the while he kept talking as though mulling over the idea an amused smile on his face almost talking to himself, clearly not expecting an answer. “Might get my family off my back as well, a little addition, though who knows what sort of little monster you’d produce at this point.”

Jon was pretty sure Peter wasn’t really asking his opinion and with three fingers stretching him open words were a bit beyond him anyway. Still the reminder of the loss of his humanity, that he was a monster made him flinch, shame flooding though him. He wanted to object, he was still himself, wasn’t he? Peter pulled back slightly, clearly reading his flinch as physical pain and not his grappling with his distress over his inhumanity. Peter’s thumb returned to teasing his clit and despite Jon’s mild existential crisis the unexpected attention had his hips bucking up clenching around his fingers until they slid out completely leaving him empty.

“You know I could just leave you here, could you even find your way out with how starved you are?” Peter’s slightly amused tone didn’t give away if he was being serious or not. Terror flowed through Jon, the one type of fear that didn’t truly seemed muted at all, the thought of being left, abandoned, his breathing quickened, once more hovering at the edge of a panic attack. Seconds ticked by, each one seeming an eternity, until finally Jon felt hands on his thighs spreading him wide as he felt pressure between his legs as Peter leaned over him. “Just a little joke Archivist, you’re far too important for that.”

Jon whimpered as the blunt head started to press its way in, his back arching, despite the stretching he still felt like he was being split in half. The hands left his thighs, one to rub soothing circles on his abdomen as he tried to relax. The other shifted his leg up, spreading him wider, until finally the head popped in with an almost audible sound. Jon tensed clenching his eyes shut, expecting any gentleness to be done with, he’d be fine, probably, he had those healing powers after all. Time was still impossible to judge, but as the seconds ticked by and Peter hadn’t pressed any farther Jon slowly opened his eyes to meet the Captain’s. His expression was nearly impossible to read, though Jon could pick up the vague amusement from his smile.

“Poor thing, is everyone so rough with you?” Jon didn’t know whether he wanted to be indignant that Peter thought he was some breakable waif, or grateful that Peter seemed to be taking his limitations into account. Jon’s half aborted affronted grumble had Peter chuckling, the slight movement pressing him deeper and Jon yelped. Peter looked half-apologetic rubbing his clit in apology, as his other free hand wrapped around his hip keeping him still as he slid forward, The stimulation was a lot and Jon couldn’t help grabbing onto Peter’s coat pressing his face into the rough fabric briefly before relaxing back against the desk again, though he still gripped the extra fabric. Something to keep him anchored in the fog another point of contact as Peter continued. Every time Jon whimpered Peter would pause just like he had when in Jon’s mouth, until he relaxed again, making slow but steady progress.

“Such a good boy, we can take all the time you need,” The gentleness of the words, even if it was simple platitudes, had tears welling up in Jon’s eyes. Very rarely was he allowed to go at his own pace, to take things slow. Peter stroked his cheek gently wiping the tear that had escaped away, the tender action snapping something inside him coaxing a few soft sobs his chest heaving. He shouldn’t be getting comfort from Peter Lukas of all people, considering his patron, but it’s not like Jon’s emotions were ever rational.

“Elias was right you are cute when you cry,” Peter gripped his scarred hips as he finally slid fully inside, with a groan, as Jon let out a little punched-out moan. He tried to wipe his tears away, but they didn’t stop, slowly dripping down his cheeks. He felt a hand slide behind his back and the whole world tilted as he was pulled upright. Peter easily lifting him as he sat once more in the desk chair, Jon now sat on his lap impaled completely on his cock. Jon had never felt so quite like he was being split open, though the gentle progress meant it was only just barely overwhelming rather than painful. He also chose not to examine the rush of heat he had felt as Peter had lifted him with barely a hint of effort. Sure Jon wasn’t the largest, but he was an adult and Peter hadn’t even seemed to notice his weight, though something must have shown on his face.

“Liked that did you?” The large man asked with a deep chuckle, and Jon hid his face again, with a muttered shut up, trying to sound confident, but he just sounded wrecked. Jon braced himself as Peter’s hands returned to his hips, lifting him up slowly, before lowering him back down in a steady rhythm. Peter’s breath was finally knocked out of its routine, coming a bit faster, though compared to Jon’s wrecked moans he hardly seemed affected. The time stretched on, each thrust perfectly hitting the spot inside him that made him see stars, a slightly muted orgasm rolling through him making him twitch. Peter seemed content to continue at this slow languid pace, despite the slip into over-stimulation on Jon’s part. If Jon could feel anymore shame he might have died of it hearing the wet sounds from where they were connected. As it was all the space in his brain was currently taken up by pleasure, thoughts fucked right out of his head.

“Stealing you is looking more appealing by the minute Archivist. You would make such a good little pet, I could keep you, not on my ship, no I’d leave you at home, keep you locked up till you’re so desperate and lonely for my attention.” Thought more complicated than more and please were not currently under his purview, but some part of his brain did feel a flicker of fear making him clutch onto Peter with a whine. He tightened making Peter actually moan, his pace stuttering then resuming at a faster pace, clearly nearing the end. “Such a lovely little snack waiting for me after months at sea.”

“N-nghh,” Jon tried to protest to grab that little bit of coherency, but instead of eloquence all the resulted with a strangled moan as he came for the third time. Peter seemed to take that as a sign as he finally buried himself as deep as he could go, teeth fastening in Jon’s neck no doubt leaving a mark, that Jon would struggle to hide. Jon could feel Peter twitching inside him coating his insides as he clenched down.

“Well that was fun Archivist,” The sound as Peter slid out of him was filthy as Jon found himself sat back on the desk panting trying to gather his shattered wits. Peter stood tucking himself away, the only evidence on the Captain being his flushed complexion and some slick on his trousers, from what felt like hours ago. His expression was back to amused and absent as the fog rolled in obscuring him as faded away with a cheery, “Be seeing you.”

Jon was left wrecked and alone sitting naked in Elias’s office his clothes a tangled mess on the floor. He knew he was covered in bruises and marks but he couldn’t look down at himself, certain that he might actually have a breakdown if he did so. He should have known how this would end, of course it was all a game to Peter, treat him like he mattered then leave him feeling even more alone. He had probably been delighted when Jon had come to him desperate, a delicious snack offering itself up on a plate. Jon sighed, he knew he needed to get clean, and maybe worry about the whole if he could actually get pregnant thing, but allowing himself to wallow in self pity for a few more minutes would hardly be the end of the world.

need jon in a pretty collar

You know what you’re right. Jon should get a collar it’s enrichment.

“Elias why can’t I get this off?” Elias was surprised that Jon was only now coming up to his office to complain, his estimation had him arriving at least ten minutes ago. Really he was getting sloppy, if he couldn’t even predict his predictable Archivist. He set his pen aside, pretending to give Jon his attention as he continued to complain. Speaking of which he was still going tugging at the tiny padlock that held the delicate green collar on his neck. It was a lovely piece of art, thin leather with tiny stylized little eyes in the stitching that almost seemed to blink if you looked to long. Elias knew they did in fact blink, but only when one was looking out of the corner of one’s eye, a perfect accessory for his Archivist.

It was also as far as Artifact storage had manged to determine, impervious to damage. Which explained why, despite the shears that Jon was waving about, there wasn’t even an indent in the leather. Though judging by the faint blood on them, his neck had not escaped unscathed, likely a slip when the shears failed. Elias really needed to remove the sharp objects from the Archive, Gertrude had kept far too many dangerous things tucked away, Jon was liable to injure himself with his overreactions.

“Simple, it’s because the only person who can take it off is the one who put it on, and you need the key.” Elias found it amusing how much Jon looked like a disgruntled bird when he was interrupted, practically puffing up in his sweater vest. Still Elias kept his face carefully blank, knowing it would only frustrate Jon more. “Will that be all?”

“Elias!” Jon practically shrieked waving the shears about, which Elias thought was just unsafe, liable to put someone’s eye out really. With a sigh he pinched the bridge of his nose, really if Jon were not exactly what he wanted in an Archivist, Elias would have fired him for recklessness.

“Jon I’m going to need you to put those down before I have to have security up here.” Jon deflated a bit, not seeming to know how to keep up his indignation when Elias did not rise to the bait. Elias had learned that simply stating things as fact often worked to throw Jon off often leading him to to just accept his words without argument especially if he sounded reasonable. The threat did have the desired threat of Jon dropping the shears on his desk, which he quickly slid out of reach. “Better, now what seems to be the problem?”

“The collar Elias,” Jon growled, taking the seat in front of his desk to glare at him. Elias mused that Jon did have the loveliest eyes, even narrowed in anger. They had a similar hue to the collar, creating a lovely affect, if Elias did say so himself. Jon interrupted his musing as he tugged at the collar as though Elias needed the visual reminder that the collar was stuck on him. “I want it off.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Elias ignored Jon’s series of expletives until he run out of words and air, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Elias decided he had had just about enough of this little tantrum, he could only humor his Archivist for so long. So when Jon leaned forward to keep up his complaints he hooked his fingers in the collar choking back any further words. Jon went involuntarily limp like a cat that had just been scruffed, he held him there for a movement, before he let go regretfully letting Jon straighten up again.

“If you behave I may remove it, but so far you’ve simply barged into my office demanded that I acquiesce to your wishes.” Elias smirked at Jon’s angry expression, he so did love how expressive Jon could be. Sometimes he didn’t even need to dip into his mind, he was just far too easy to read, like an open picture book. “Perhaps asking nicely would be prudent.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Elias this is not funny, enough” Jon paused clearly thinking that Elias would do something, perhaps he though he would declare it just a joke that had gone far enough. Elias did not bother to respond picking up a pen to resume writing, keeping his eyes down but switching to watching Jon from the painting on the wall. Elias had to make an effort not to laugh as Jon gaped at him, mouth open a bit like a fish. He stomped a foot and spun taking two steps toward the door, before hesitating and turning back retaking his seat. He chewed at his lip clearly trying to think of anything that wasn’t what Elias had requested. Elias could almost see the fight go out of him as his shoulders drooped.

“Please Elias,” the words, hissed through clenched teeth, sounded more like a curse than a genuine plea, and Elias simply shook his head. Clearly there was still a little fight left, which Elias couldn’t wait to crush.

“No Jon, I want sincerity, or you can go back to the Archives.” Jon looked like he was considering it, though the problem of anyone else seeing the collar was probably occurring to him. It was clearly a fight but Jon managed to get his emotions under control, swallowing his pride. Elias couldn’t help needling him just a little bit more, watching him fight not to snap. “Now you wanted to ask me something?”

“Please Elias take it off,” Jon managed enough sincerity that Elias decided to humor him, setting aside his pen again he looked back up meeting his eyes. Elias smiled crooking a finger in Jon’s direction making him lean forward. Clearly thinking he had succeeded in appealing to Elias’s better nature, Jon acquiesced leaning across the desk bringing the collar within reach. Jon looked hopeful that this was all just a power play, that his willingness to swallow his pride would end this. “Please.”

“Hmm…No,” He had to hold back a laugh the choked sputter of despair and indignation was music to his ears. Hooking his fingers through the thin leather of the collar once more, he twisted them to cut off any further complaints and most of his air. He was careful not to twist the collar too tight, he didn’t want to damage his Archivist’s permanently, just instill a bit of obedience. “You’ve been a less than ideal employee lately this is just a little reminder of who is in charge.”

“It also looks rather fetching on you I think,” Jon let out a whine, as he tried to squirm away but Elias’s grip on the collar kept him pinned over the desk. It was only once Jon went limp again that he relinquished his hold, leaving Jon gasping slightly. Elias could see tears forming in the corner of his eyes, though he had managed to avoid the indignity of crying in front of Elias, so far. “Now I have work to do, as do you.”

“How do I get it off?” The static dancing up his spine had Elias shiver, but it was weak, barely more than a tickle. A disappointing show of force, one that he doubted had even been on purpose. Jon was staring at him, as though willing his weak compulsion to work, clearly overestimating his ability, “Tell me how-.”

“If you are going to compel me at least attempt to do so properly,” Jon was caught off guard as Elias yanked the collar this time, choking off his words and slamming his cheek against the desk. He blinked looking dazed as he gasped trying to get air past the obstruction panic replacing any anger in his eyes. Elias didn’t mind Jon attempting to compel him, but such a poor showing was likely to get him seriously hurt if he tried it on someone less inclined to be forgiving.

While still keeping Jon pinned he did let up slightly so as to avoid strangling him, though there was no doubt he would have bruises tomorrow, that Jon would have to explain. Elias half-considered adding a few more, seeing Jon cry was always a treat. Unfortunately he did have a schedule to keep today, not a lot of time to punish his Archivist, it would have to simply be a warning. Unless Jon continued to push of course, such things had to be corrected quickly, before habits formed. He half-hoped he would continue his defiance, even if it would mean canceling a meeting. Releasing his grip on the collar he let Jon catch his breath again, “Now apologize for wasting my time, and get out, before I decide this requires escalation.”

“S-sorry,” Elias could hear the faint tremble in Jon’s voice, sounding on the edge of tears. Cringing away as Elias placed a hand in his hair, like he was a dog that was now behaving. The thought probably occurred to Jon as well, though fear of further punishment likely kept him from objecting. He kept still like prey, clearly hoping Elias had decided he had been hurt enough. It did tempt him once more to slam his head against the desk, but he was being good. Even if it was from fear, that behavior needed to be rewarded. So Elias instead pulled his hand away letting Jon beat a hasty retreat, though he still slammed the door on his way out, which was quite rude in Elias’s opinion.

“Honestly the disrespect,” Elias sighed to the empty room, as he penciled in a new time slot for tomorrow. While he didn’t have time to correct Jon’s behavior today, later his schedule was much more open. Perhaps he would even test a few of the less innocuous accessories that paired with the collar, if his behavior continued to be an issue. Elias mused as he watched his Archivist flee back to the Archives through borrowed eyes, yes he was overdue for a thorough performance review.