June 2025

i adore the desolation!tim and jon fic, would be really interesting to see the dynamic between again, perhaps even more compelling from jons side and tim being a bit possessive perhaps? just need them to get off on destroying each other. just if you feel like it ofc <3

Alright welcome to fourth degree burns two electric boogaloo.

Jon was starving.

The Statements scattered across his desk, each picked over for any morsels of fear, had barely touched the gaping empty hole that had taken up residence inside his ribcage. He reached for another statement, but already he knew it was one already picked clean.

Desperation drove him toward the door, there had to be something that could take the edge off. There had to be a statement left that would work. His hand shook as he turned the handle, only to fall back as the door was shoved open landing on his tailbone with a wince. He tried to get up again but another spike of hunger had him doubling over, half-laying on the floor as pain rolled through him.

“-ss, Boss, Jon can you hear me?” As the pain quieted from all consuming to terrible ache Jon blinked up at Tim who was half-cradling him, panic clear on his face. Instinctive words started to crawl their way out of his throat soaked in static, he managed to bite them off, by sinking his teeth into his tongue hard enough to sever part of it, only too feel it crawl back together. It felt revolting, too reminiscent of the worms, but it served to keep the static from his next words.

“Yes, sorry I fell,”Jon ignored the blood that trickled out of his mouth from his recently severed then healed tongue, hoping Tim might not notice. Which of course was a bit unlikely, still he tried to push Tim away but it was weak, and Tim didn’t even seem to notice.

“Pretty sure I knocked you down,” Tim helped him to his feet and Jon was just thankful that he managed to stay standing, though his legs were trembling. Jon waited for Tim to let go, but he didn’t release his arm. Tim was looking at him a friend on his face before using his free hand to swipe at the blood that dripped from his mouth. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine, just going to get a Statement,” Tim’s pointed glance at his desk upon which was a stack papers beside a stack of clearly recently recorded tapes, a full meal for your average Archivist was not subtle. Still stubborn to a fault Jon tried to pull away again but Tim easily shifted the pair of them once more trapping Jon between himself and his desk.

“Are those even enough for you anymore?” Jon flinched, even though Tim’s tone wasn’t accusatory it was another nail in the coffin of Jon’s remaining humanity. Jon tried to resist Tim tipping his chin up, but he quickly lost the battle, forcing their eyes to meet. Jon, so used to the disgust behind everyone’s eyes, is momentarily surprised by the understanding, only for it to hit him. Of course Tim would be the one person who couldn’t judge him, not when he saw the same hunger lurking there. It was all too much, fro him to resist, not when he could practically taste the fear behind those eyes. Jon was only half surprised to hear the recorder, with a fresh tape appearing out of seemingly nowhere, click on as static wormed its way up his throat.

“Tell me what it was like, after the explosion,” Static curled around his tongue the words no longer his own. He tried to bite back the rest but his jaw refused to work for him, he couldn’t even blink, eyes fixed on Tim’s which were aflame now. Jon could practically see his words laden with hooks, crawling down Tim’s throat to fasten around every tasty morsel of fear he still had that the Eye had not managed to drag into the light.

They were both trapped there, predator and prey as Tim was forced to speak, and Jon was forced to listen. Mercifully the Statement was short.

As silence fell Jon felt like had had finally eaten after days of starving. The hungry emptiness inside now gorged on Tim’s fear, nestling up to the immediate stab of guilt. The worst part was the sliver of himself that felt content, that relished the power he had, just for a moment, he was the one in control.

“Tim I’m-” His words were cut off with a pained scream, as Tim grabbed him, clothes and skin almost instantly destroyed by the heat, of which only his skin healed. If Jon’s entire being wasn’t currently focused on the pain he probably would have been embarrassed, but it was hard to worry about modesty when most of your skin was flaking away along with your clothes.

“Don’t, no apologies,” Tim’s voice was ragged, as he leaned close, voice barely above a whisper, searing heat against Jon’s ear. Jon bit back a whimper, feeling his skin bubble, scab and heal in a matter of moments. Jon tried to bite back whimpers as Tim brushed fingers no longer heated to a flash point but still on the side of just a little too much over his now bare skin. “Can’t blame a monster for its instincts.”

“I’m not-,” Jon cut himself off this time. Wasn’t he? Wasn’t it just instinct? Was it really that bad? Why did he have to starve himself? Jon was pulled out of his crisis of humanity by Tim pressing his too warm lips to his. Tim forced him to bend back further and further until had no choice but to let himself lay flat onto, the thankfully clear spot on, his desk. Tim pulled back enough to meet Jon’s eyes, clearly slightly out of breath, his chest heaving beneath clothes that were also smoldering and completely soaked with sweat.

Jon’s own clothing had fared much worse, his upper half completely bare, while the rest of him was only covered by smoldering scraps that were quickly losing structural integrity. A mixture of panic from his last dregs of professionalism, and the need to know that was only partly him caused another wave of static to flow under his next words. “Why?”

“Because I want to hurt you, I want to mark you, let everyone see it. I killed you, you’re a monster because of me which makes you mine.” Tim didn’t try to fight the compulsion this time letting it pry the words out easily each dripping like wax as he loomed over Jon. “I want to fuck you, watch you come apart, destroy you and then put you back together, so I can tear you apart again.”

“Oh” Jon felt like he wasn’t quite connected to what he was saying. The part of his brain that usually made decisions was currently out of commission, and really what else was one supposed to say to something like that. Thank you for the confession, good to know? Please take me over my desk right now? Actually I need five to seven business days to process this please come back later? Jon felt almost hysterical giggles bubbling up at the whole situation. Here he was lying mostly naked on his desk, being propositioned and threatened at the same time?

“For now though I want to eat you out on this desk until you can’t say anything but please and more.” Jon felt his face heat up again, It really wasn’t fair that Tim could say things like that. Even without the compulsion Tim had always been very confident. “Until you’re just a broken little thing.”

Jon sometimes wished he could tear answers out of himself, because right now he was both squirming at the thought and mortified at the possibility that someone could walk in at any moment, and he wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger. Instead of a complicated response he managed a short nod and a muttered lock the door, hoping that was the last bit of coherent communication he would need, anymore and he might just pass out from sheer embarrassment.

Tim clearly found that amusing based on the short laugh before he acquiesced the lock clicking as Jon looked anywhere else. Distracted as he was Tim caught him by surprise, his hands once more hot enough to sink past the skin and muscle of his thighs to grasp bone. He could feel his body trying to heal, nerves branching out constantly seared away. It was like waves, each a little weaker than the last but each one made Jon writhe and whimper grasping for anything to hold onto that wasn’t searing hot.

It was painful enough that Jon was certain if he was still human he would have passed out. Well he would probably be in shock, as it was the intensity slowly shifted, as his body somehow able to adapt tome Tim’s hands inside him, like they were meant to be there. He wondered if there would be permanent indents were his fingers pressed against bone, molding it to fit his use.

The first swipe of Tim’s tongue against his clit had Jon arching off the desk, which did not bode well for his chances of not losing his mind. He was thankful his tongue was only slightly warm, though he doubted it would stay that way, not when Tim had promised to break him. Still he was apparently starting off easy, lapping at his folds gently enough that Jon could almost catch his breath. Jon let his eyes flick closed, only to have his vision suddenly shift, the eye clearly wanted to see, mortifying voyeur that it was.

Tim didn’t seem to notice the smattering of scars that blinked open on his inner thigh, each a vivid green, as he continued lavishing attention on Jon’s cunt. Not until Jon shuddered through his first orgasm as Tim nipped at his clit. The angle was very odd for Jon, and the almost detached alien curiosity almost managed to drown out the absolute mortification he felt as he saw his own pussy clench unable to hold back a weak moan.

“Just can’t resist watching can you?” Jon yelped as Tim nipped the inside of his thigh right beside his new eyes. The skin melted beneath his mouth the heat making the eyes flinch closed, only to have another smattering open on his other leg, a bit higher up this time as though defiant. Tim shook his head apparently giving up the losing battle, returning his attention to Jon’s clit, suckling gently.

Jon keened softly, the pain of his fingers around his bones had mostly faded, overwhelmed by pleasure. He could feel his coherency slipping as Tim continued to savour him, like he was a delicious meal, and he was starving. It was all too much as he came again, his cunt clenching weakly down on Tim’s tongue. It was at that point that Jon decided that coherency was overrated letting his brain be washed out between waves of pleasure, interspersed with pain.

the tim n jon fic is so scrumptious, like always, very much doing a great job at making burns hot, but i can’t stop giggling at the aftermath where jon needs to consult someone (elias) for a new desk, bc the other one is badly burnt

Jon tries to just send an email but of course Elias calls him up to his office, because Jon this is a big expense, you know ignition sources are not allowed in the Archives. What happened Jon?

Poor Jon just sitting there the whole time lying through his teeth about what happened to the desk. Not that it matters, he knows that Elias knows, and that this is just make Jon feel incredibly mortified time.

Jon eventually gets an order for a new more flame resistant desk but only after at least a half hour of carefully worded admonishments that make him feel like he’s a child getting scolded.

Of course Elias can’t resist a last little jab of, tell Tim to be more careful in the future, wouldn’t want to permanently damage any more institute property.

adding on my last ask, but elias and tim fighting over jon, agree so much with that statement

I just need them to both be the pettiest bitches the whole time as well. They can’t kill each other but they can constantly antagonize each other. Jon is just trying to do his job poor boy, both treating him like a favorite chew toy.

ugh sorry for being a little menace and potentially annoying, but i can’t stop thinking about how tim wanted to mark jon and it just makes me imagine how he’s getting increasingly frustrated at how quickly jon heals, like sure it’s fun because he can keep burning jon, but he just wish the marks would stay, possibly bc he wants elias to see the marks, and not just with his eye power thingy, does this make sense???

It makes sense(also you’re not being annoying your asks are great.) Please enjoy some Tim POV, I hope this response makes sense.

At first it was just a passing thought, just a tiny flash of annoyance as Jon’s skin beneath his fingers bubbled and twisted, only to reform a moment later, no sign of the damage he had done. He let it go easily as Jon tugged another question out of him, his voice like fishhooks. Jon was plenty distracting, whimpering and writhing so prettily, unable to break eye contact as he drank in Tim’s words.

The time after that it was harder to push aside as he pressed his hand down again, and again. Each time the damage vanishing in moments as though Tim had never touched him. Even as Jon moaned his name, and kissed him back completely pliant beneath him. He pressed deeper fingers sliding into muscle smoothing over as soon as he pulled away everything knitted together exactly as before. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much.

He was getting frustrated, which was ridiculous, he should be happy that Jon could heal. He shouldn’t want to permanently damage someone he’s supposed to care about. He shouldn’t watch the scratches and burn he left on Jon’s back smooth themselves over as he held him in his arms and feel disappointment that they were gone so quickly.

The next time he found out the only thing more frustrating than watching the marks heal, was not getting to mark Jon at all.

Jon even noticed the time after that, not that he said anything, but Tim could practically see the thoughts turning in his head. His expression like an open book at this point. Making Tim keep his thumb pressed against one of the larger worm scars on his cheek, searing the mark away, the skin blackening beneath it. It was only when his thumb breached through completely into his mouth that he pulled away. Surely that would be enough?

It wasn’t, the only scar that remained was from the worms, as though he had never been burned. Jon looked apologetic, and Tim pushed the disappointment away, not giving Jon a chance to ask about it, pressing his lips back to his. He didn’t know how to explain the impulse himself, and he was a bit worried what monstrous reason Jon might yank out.

Later though when Jon had gone to sleep, his eyes wide open, but clearly vacant Tim couldn’t help but dwell on it again. Why did he want to hurt Jon bad enough that what he did stayed? It was a horrid thing to want, right? It was just…It had an air of unfairness really. Both of them were scarred, Jon more so than him and he wanted to add to that? They both had marks from worms, but Jon well he had quite a bit more. Like the odd curling scar on his stomach, which when Tim had asked Jon had admitted hadn’t actually been a bread knife accident like he first claimed. His hand was burned, but not by Tim, no instead it had been Jude Perry, and that made the fire that now occupied the place where his heart had been flare in anger. Even Daisy had gotten to leave a mark, and Tim still flinched thinking how close Jon had come to dying and Tim just hadn’t cared. Did he subconsciously want to hurt Jon like that too?

Of course thinking about that reminded him of Elias, because that was the core of it all wasn’t it? Elias always acted like he owned Jon, sure he treated Tim like dangerous furniture or a temporary annoyance, but Jon, that was different. Not for the first time Tim pictured burning those damn eyes right out of his skull It would be so satisfying, but no Elias had that supposed dead-man’s switch to protect himself. Even if he was lying, Tim couldn’t risk it, not now.

That was it wasn’t it, why he wanted his marks on Jon to stay. He wanted Elias to see, not just with his whole I see anything crap, but with his own two eyes. Proof that Jon was his, feed that possessive, territorial part of himself, that had only been getting worse. He wanted Jon to be his, just like he was Jon’s and chase off anyone who would get in the way. Tim sighed, god this was all so fucked.

humbly adding to my last jon x tim ask, don’t remember exactly what it was, and not sure if you will even write it, but consider: tim being jon’s personal lighter, lighting up the cigarettes/joints for jon, and it’s very rewarding because intoxicating kink

So listen, this was gonna be short, and then it wasn’t. Hope you enjoy though.

“A source of ignition in the Archives? Well that just won’t do,” Jon had no chance to pocket his lighter before Tim had snatched it from his hand, holding it over his head. Jon didn’t even try to reach for it, choosing to keep a little dignity, “And smoking in your office, such unprofessional behavior.”

“I think you’re the last one who gets to chide me for smoking,” Jon sighed gesturing to Tim and then to the burn marks on his desk with the unlit cigarette. Elias had told him that as long as the desk was still standing he wasn’t going to replace it, Tim’s suggestion of taking it up to his office and setting it on fire had been considered, though his second suggestion to continue the activities that had led to it being singed on Elias’s desk had not, well not seriously anyway. Placing the aforementioned cigarette between his teeth he held his hand out for the lighter “Besides the last time I left the office to smoke I was framed for murder if you remember.”

“Right the old man,” Tim did not in fact hand it over pocketing it and with a snap of his fingers held his own flame out to Jon. Jon sighed too tired to argue leaning forward to light the tip, before relaxing back in his chair taking a long drag. He wondered if he could still get cancer, since it would be his own cells, but he figured it would be unlikely, and he doubted this particular smoke was any worse for him than the smoke from his own burning flesh. A sentence that he had to reflect sounded insane. “Well I’ll be keeping this, clearly smoking alone gets you in trouble.”

“Fine,” Jon knew better than argue knowing Tim would only dig his heels in if he argued, he’s get bored eventually.

~~~~~~~~

Tim had only been having a laugh when he had decided to steal the lighter from Jon. He hadn’t planned to enjoy being his boss’s personal lighter quite as much as he realized he did. Watching the constant tension that Jon carried ease just a bit as smoke poured out of his mouth. Did he perhaps encourage jon a bit more? Well who could really blame him? Most of the time after a smoke Jon was more likely to slip his control over his compulsion. Which gave him the excuse to snatch the stub and press the still burning end into his vulnerable throat. Sometimes he let Jon lay his head in his lap as he smoked, not letting him stop till he had gone through the whole pack, and leaving his chest covered in little round burns, that healed far too soon for Tim’s liking.

It was only natural of course that Tim escalate things.

~~~~~~~~

“Okay you can’t be serious Tim, at work?” Tim tried not to laugh as Jon puffed up a bit like an offended bird. He shuffled through appropriate comebacks, settling on tapping a finger pointedly on the melted corner of Jon’s desk, which made him deflate considerably quickly. Eyeing the tin like it was going to bite him, but he didn’t outright say no, so Tim took it as a win. “What if someone comes in.”

“Okay so first of all no one but you and me are here after hours. You because you’re a workaholic, me to make sure you don’t get murdered by something.” Jon opened his mouth to argue, but another pointed look had him snapping it shut. He even let Tim tug him onto the couch that Jon had begrudgingly let into his office since he and by extension Tim were basically living there. It was an ugly thing, but fairly comfortable. Tim grinned popping open the little tin, holding out one of the pre-rolled joints like a treat. Jon looked at him like he was holding another detonator, a thought which had him laughing. “Come on Jon you went to Uni surely you’ve tried pot before?”

~~~~~~~~

“I have,” Jon lied, he had not in fact tried pot before. Not for any good reason, he had even almost tried some once at a party Georgie had dragged him to, before deciding he didn’t want to be impaired around mostly strangers. Tim nodded and proffered the joint again, only to click his tongue pulling it back when Jon went to reach for it. Jon knew if he told Tim to stop he would, but once more that insatiable need to know was starting to eclipse his judgment.

“Open up,” Jon still stubborn on principle did not do so by his own volition, pressing his lips together tightly. Tim sighed dramatically, and Jon couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised as he was hauled sideways to find his head cradled in his lap. Tim easily leveraged his jaw open sliding the now smoldering joint between his lips. Giving in Jon took a slow deep breath, letting the smoke settle in his lungs, before breathing out sending the smoke purposefully toward an unfazed Tim. “Good boy.”

“I’ll bite you,” Jon grumbled, only to giggle at Tim’s offended look before taking another deep drag. Jon let things start to slip around him, even the Eye was quieting down, Jon couldn’t hold back another laugh. Maybe that was the solution, he just needed to be constantly stoned. He Knew that wasn’t actually true, but well, what he knew was getting a bit hazy as Tim continued to press the joint between his lips, Jon dutifully breathing in each time. It was nice not to have to make decision, just open his mouth and breathe in.

~~~~~~~~

“You’re adorable like this you know?” Jon gives a weak mumble in response and Tim can’t resist running a finger along his cheek, leaving a trail of reddened skin that quickly healed. Jon didn’t even yelp, just let out a small whine, eyes half-open and getting more vacant by the moment. Taking the final drag he presses his lips to Jon’s letting the smoke flow, into his waiting mouth. He doesn’t stop until there’s no smoke left in his own lungs and Jon is squirming against him. Pulling back he lets him breathe, watching his chest heave as he catches his breathe he sets the remaining drugs aside. While he was certain Jon would keep taking whatever he gave him, he wanted to do this again, no need to go overboard.

It really is wonderful to watch Jon practically melt into his lap, tension unspooling leaving him soft and pliant, a bit like when he overdid it with statements. Only instead of overdosing on trauma he was just high. Tim loves seeing the almost vacant look in his eyes, head empty of stressful thoughts.

Undressing him is easy enough, and he did undress him instead of burning his clothes away. Mostly because Jon got really snippy about having to replace them, and Tim is in no hurry. He laments again at how easy it is to maneuver Jon, while it’s convenient he really wishes he wouldn’t starve himself. Pushing those thoughts aside Tim settles between his legs, relishing the tiny yelp as he runs his tongue over his already damp folds. It’s a testament to how out of it Jon is that his hips can only buck weakly as Tim continues teasing him

“You’re so good for me aren’t you? So out of it,” Part of Tim wants to consume him when he’s like this, burn him away until there’s nothing left. He indulges that part only a little the hand keeping his thighs spread practically glowing with heat. The weak scream was adorable as Jon’s whole body jolted up back arching.

“Sorry love, I just can’t help myself,” Tim soothed pulling back the all consuming fire until he was only slightly warm. Pressing his tongue inside his cunt as his own form of apology, until hes clenching down with a moan. Even his orgasm is a weak little thing, walls just barely clutching around his tongue before going limp. He spends a few more moments working him open, pressing two fingers inside till he’s moaning Tim’s name, hips bucking against him as he pulls away.

Jon’s legs are still spread and Tim can’t help but see it as an invitation as he quickly shucks his own pants. Pulling Jon to himself a bit more roughly than he probably should soothing his mumbled whine with a gentle kiss to his temple. He cants Jon’s hips up, and letting his cock press against his clit, making Jon practically squeak, before sliding inside, savoring every inch of that tight heat. He didn;t think he would ever grow tired of this, watching Jon’s face lips open in a near-silent moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“So lovely all wet and open for me,” Jon clenches down weakly around Tim’s cock as he speaks, despite the rest of his muscles being relaxed and loose and Tim has to fight to resist coming right then. However Tim can’t resist pressing one glowing hot hand to Jon’s abdomen, parting skin and muscle, he considers for a second if he could go further, wrap his hand around himself inside Jon, but no, not this time. That was probably something he should ask permission for, even if Jon would heal

Still just the thought has him shuddering, as he brushes his other hand, not searing hot, only warm against Jon’s swollen clit. Jon tightens around him again and Tim can only moan. He knows he’s not going to last much longer, so he keeps going a steady rhythm until Jon spasms around him, whining his name and that send Tim right over the edge. Pressing his lips to Jon’s he swallows his screams as his insides are painted with searing heat until everything goes quiet.

“That was a lot,” Jon’s voice is slurred and Tim is almost surprised he managed coherency, it seems that like everything else his body was clearing the toxins from his system faster than normal.

“High praise,” Tim teases shifting so Jon is laying on him now, not sure how well he could keep from crushing him at the moment. Jon shrugs pressing his face against his neck breathing slowly. Tim’s almost certain he’s fallen asleep when he finally speaks.

“I perhaps could be persuaded to try this again,” Tim can’t help it laughter bubbling up, and even Jon offers a few soft chuckles as a tape recorder clicks off.

humbly adding to my last jon x tim ask, don’t remember exactly what it was, and not sure if you will even write it, but consider: tim being jon’s personal lighter, lighting up the cigarettes/joints for jon, and it’s very rewarding because intoxicating kink

anaceshornyblog:

So listen, this was gonna be short, and then it wasn’t. Hope you enjoy though.

“A source of ignition in the Archives? Well that just won’t do,” Jon had no chance to pocket his lighter before Tim had snatched it from his hand, holding it over his head. Jon didn’t even try to reach for it, choosing to keep a little dignity, “And smoking in your office, such unprofessional behavior.”

“I think you’re the last one who gets to chide me for smoking,” Jon sighed gesturing to Tim and then to the burn marks on his desk with the unlit cigarette. Elias had told him that as long as the desk was still standing he wasn’t going to replace it, Tim’s suggestion of taking it up to his office and setting it on fire had been considered, though his second suggestion to continue the activities that had led to it being singed on Elias’s desk had not, well not seriously anyway. Placing the aforementioned cigarette between his teeth he held his hand out for the lighter “Besides the last time I left the office to smoke I was framed for murder if you remember.”

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