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writereleaserepeat · 2 years ago

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Gnashing of Teeth - Chapter 2

Previous // Next (tbd)

CW: pet-adjacent whump, instituzionalized slavery, nonconsensual fighting, fight scene, violence, blood, strangulation, non-con drug use

A/N: Detailed fight scenes are not my forte in writing (and I know they can be a bit boring to read), but they will not be frequently featured in this story. I felt that this one was necessary for setting the scene of the story, describing Sasha's mindset, and situating the reader to just what's at stake.

Sasha’s drug tests had come back clean. Of course they came back clean. They were smart when they dosed him, carefully timed around the fights he would be put in for, just enough days apart for his blood to come back pure.

Given the intensity of the prior day’s workout routine, Sasha knew that he must have been a last-minute replacement for this bout. Maybe one of the other fighters hadn’t passed their blood test. Maybe they’d had a rash of resistance and been forcibly subdued.

Maybe, as was common among Sasha’s kind, they had finally killed themselves.

“You ready?” Boss’s voice spoke right into Sasha’s ear, the breath hot and rancid against his skin. If Sasha had been permitted any food in the last six hours, he knew he would have thrown it up. But he mustered the strength to answer rather than gag.

“Yes, Boss.” The answer was pure reflex, nothing more. Just enough words to get Boss to back the fuck away.

Sasha tried to focus on the pounding in his chest, the angry heart that fluttered against his ribs, a side effect of the caffeine and other stimulants he had been force-fed hours prior. His eyes were fixed on the doors straight ahead. As soon as they opened he would be forced into the pit, and he would find himself face to face with another man - no, another thing - like himself.

His life depended on his strength.

Naked except for the collar around his neck and the tight black briefs that hugged his hips, Sasha struggled to control his breathing. Every part of his body was vibrating with the urge to fight, to let his bruised knuckles smash into flesh, his teeth wrap around any visible fingers or ears. He likewise anticipated the bloody thrill of his gums getting sliced open by his own teeth and nails scratching down his scarred forearms. Adrenaline flared and he rolled his shoulders back.

“Atta boy,” Boss said and smacked Sasha on his sweat-soaked shoulder. “You get ‘em down and keep ‘em down, and we’ll give you a rest day tomorrow.”

“Yes, Boss.”

That final promise of reprieve was always the sign it was just a few seconds away from go-time. Mere moments until the guillotine door would pull open and reveal the dirt pit with impossibly high walls, the crimson-splattered ground illuminated by blinding white lights. Spectators and bettors would cheer with unabashed bloodlust, always just out of sight behind the rails atop the walls. It was a cacophony of utter violence.

And just as Sasha let out a sharp puff of breath through his nose, the door lifted open.

Sasha rushed forward with a roar building in his throat, just as his handlers had taught him. Don’t think, don’t wait, don’t hesitate. He ran until he collided with another body moving at almost the same speed, their flesh hitting with a sickening smack. That first moment was the only chance Sasha would get to size up his opponent before they attempted their first strike.

The other fighter was shorter, Sasha could tell just from the way their head had collided with his collarbone. But they also were broader, which he had determined the way that his own feet had slid back upon impact. As for strength he could only guess that they were about evenly matched. For a moment, Sasha swore he saw a glint of fury from blue eyes, but it could have just as easily been his imagination.

Sasha drew back his left fist and sunk it deep into the other fighter’s abdomen.

Boss liked Sasha to keep the fight on his feet for as long as possible, Boss said it made fighters look dignified as they pummeled their opponent. “Patrons don’t pay top dollar to see two brutes wrestling with each other in the dirt.” Grapple holds and headlocks were the most effective way to win, but it was always more thrilling to see the loser sway on their feet before toppling unconscious to the ground. At least, that’s what Sasha had been told in his training.

After assessing his opponent, and after landing the first blow, all rational thought left Sasha’s mind. He gave in to the bloodlust and anger that so often overpowered him. Nothing less than nuclear fury would get him through the end of this match, whether the match was seconds or minutes long, and he would be one day closer to earning his humanity back. He was going to be a winner, then he would go back to the showers and get the blood washed from his knuckles, and sleep for twelve hours.

It would be pure bliss.

The only thing Sasha could hear as he sunk fist after fist into his opponent’s sides was the rush of his own breathing. Deep, guttural, animal breaths. He was an animal now, after all. The transformation had taken place as soon as he stepped in the ring.

Warm liquid splattered across his face and he knew it was blood, but not his own. There was a spark of glee at the thought that he could win. The other fighter wasn’t making as much contact, and hadn’t yet landed a blow on Sasha’s face. Those training sessions had made Sasha’s instincts sharp enough to dodge uppercuts without a second thought.

Then they both went down in a tumble of limbs as the other fighter lost his balance. Sasha reflexively bucked his hips, as he intended to roll the other fighter so he could end up on top.

The other man tried to do the same, but he was too late. Sasha had already leaned forward and wrapped his teeth around their collarbone. This earned Sasha a ear-piercing shriek of pain before other teeth returned the favor, foreign enamel sinking into the skin above Sasha’s pectoral muscle. That was alright - so long as they were focused on biting, Sasha had the chance to move in for his finishing move.

Other fighters didn’t like this method, Boss had said. They thought it was too inhumane. Sasha didn’t mind. As soon as the fighter bit down, Sasha pulled them in close to his body and released his own bite hold. Now they were trapped close to his body, and being stuck on the ground, they didn’t have even an inch of leverage. Then, and only then, did Sasha wrap his forearms tight around their throat.

This fighter released their bite hold immediately and fell back to using their nails, but they were flat against the dirt, pressed beneath Sasha’s full weight as his forearms pushed against their jugular. Now their adrenaline-filled body was being deprived of the oxygen it so desperately needed to keep going. The desperate squirming told Sasha that he was close, so he pressed harder, his own forehead almost against the ground. Blood and sweat made their exposed bodies slick against each other, and Sasha knew that this was as close as he would get to an embrace until his next match.

Blood thundered in his ears. Reality was starting to drift away as the wriggling form beneath him began to still, go limp, become little more than a prey animal. It wasn’t human to begin with, was it? A growl mounted in Sasha’s throat and he put his whole weight into the maneuver, every pound of muscle meant to crush, crush, crush-

Instinct was cut short by electricity freezing him in place. Sasha’s lungs seized and he fell off the other fighter, now in the dirt next to them, and he writhed beneath the current and its familiar agony. When the sensation ended he was on his back, staring up at the spotlights, his chest rising and falling with every gasp. The buzzing in his ears faded, and he heard the roar of whistling and hollering from the stands above, the sound of satisfied spectators who had won their bets. Through the fuzz of animal instinct, Sasha felt a small hint of pride.

He’d won again.

The victory was short lived as the catch pole tightened around his neck and hauled him to his feet. He struggled to go in the direction the handlers were pulling him, relying only on the tugging at his neck to guide him back to the darkness behind the door. Sasha still let out soft growls as he panted in spite of himself. Something in the pit was transformative, lighting his blood on fire with the urge to destroy.

That very instinct was why victors were subjected to the catch pole, a stick that secured them a solid ten feet from the handlers. This was the only safe way to pull amped-up fighters away from their opponent and back to their cages. It would take Sasha the better part of two hours to come down from the animalistic high of fighting, and in that time he was a liability even to the handlers that had conditioned his obedience.

When Sasha came to from the fugue of predatory bloodlust, he would be rinsed down and clothed. Severe wounds would be treated - often Sasha couldn’t feel them until the pain set in hours later - and the others would be left to heal on their own. If he had won, they would also feed him dinner, and fulfill whatever other small comforts had been promised.

Darkness surrounded Sasha as he was pulled back into the tunnel and the doors to the pit shut behind him. He strained against the catch pole for just a moment when he thought he saw a silhouette, but another rough yank kept him moving forward.

“Guess you earned yourself the chance to sleep in,” a distant voice said.

Sasha only growled in response.

Taglist: @honeycollectswhump

#gnashing of teeth #whump #whumplr #whump community #whump writing #whump blog #mind the cws #sasha oc #Boss oc #I really feel like this scene drags #I am really bad at starting stories and getting the momentum going lol #anyway thanks for reading!#I appreciate every set of eyes on my work

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purerae · 29 days ago

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— DUPLEXITY;;

fem!reader x coworker!yanderes

— who knew attempting to bond with your co workers would lead to a fucked up love triangle?

prologue; quit your job! If dying was an option right now, Y/N would take it with a gleeful smile.

Sprinting through the woods, her ears ringing, she slams her grimy, broken hand against her head over and over. Her knees, bruised to a swollen pulp of purple, threaten to buckle beneath her. A deep, unprotected gash dressed painfully across her back, its edges rotting, every movement tearing at the poorly dressed wound.

Ignoring the piercing whine in her ears, her heart froze at the sound of shuffling drawing closer. Her legs wobbled, threatening to give out, but the surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her moving forward. An ear striking screech bursts from the girl’s throat, desperate to catch the attention of any passing drivers or hikers.

How could she be so foolish? It’s four in the morning, and she’s in the middle of nowhere, with two freaks relentlessly chasing her.

Her scream was a terrible mistake. It brought her no closer to freedom instead only closer to her pursuers. Their shouts echo behind her, filled with words she can’t—and doesn’t want to comprehend.

Pleas, threats, and bursts of anger escape from their mouths but the only thing that Y/N had her mind on was getting her brother and leaving this shithole. Y/N ran and ran, but to her dismay and an almost comical cruel sense of bad luck , Her vision was slammed with a wall ruined with graffiti that was now taunting her from her inescapable future. Her breathing slows as she stumbled back, desperately praying for anything that could save her. Surely they weren't close, she put in all this effort, they cannot be close! With trembling caution, she moved backward, her steps deliberate and silent. She avoided every brittle branch and insect littering the forest floor, straining to make as little noise as possible. Her back pressed into something soft yet unyielding, carrying the earthy scent of firewood mixed with the sharp tang of blood that she’ll always loathe. Y/N’s breath hitched, frozen in her chest as the sound of heavy breathing enveloped her ears from just behind.

‘Fuck.'

“You can’t run from us. It’s two against one, cutie.”

Even with her back turned, she could picture his smug, shit-eating smirk. A chill ran down her spine as his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, trapping her. God, she wished she had a bat so she could beat him till he was a lifeless piece of flesh that she could point and laugh at. Too bad that would never be possible, even if she had a weapon to begin with. Deep down, Y/N knew there was no escaping this. But with every ounce of strength her battered body could summon, she let out the loudest scream she could muster; a semblance of hope in her body that somebody could save her. It tore through the cold night air before everything turned black. The last thing she heard was another man's footsteps approaching them, and two voices she made an oath to never hear, conversing. All she wanted was a fucking pay raise.

- Y/N buttoned her blouse with a giddy smile, rushing around her room in search of the shoes she’d bought just for this day. "I can't believe I got the job! I'm so excited, this still feels so surreal." she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm as she grabbed her phone, waiting for her friend’s response. "Girl, I'm happy for you!” her friend shouted over the line, her voice barely cutting through the loud music and chatter in the background. “Just work hard, and you’ll be promoted to detective in no time! My little Sherlock Holmes~” Y/N scoffs out a laugh before she shakes her head at the chaos on the other end. Normally, she’d lecture her friend about hosting a party at seven in the morning, but today, she was too nervous and way too excited about her first day to care. "Ahaha, Yeah I don't know about that... I'm still in shock that I got the job to be the assistant, let alone be the main thing. I just hope the person in charge of me is nice." The E/C-eyed girl replied looking at the ceiling , nervously biting her nails whilst walking back and forth in her room.

"Don't stress about it! I'm sure they'll be nice, babes. And you should ju-" Y/N’s friend was abruptly cut off by a guy shouting in the background, his voice carrying over the music: “Ayra! Get back to the party already!” "Hold on a sec Noel! Im talking to Y/N" she yells back with an obvious scowl on her face… Well, Y/N was almost positive that she displayed one based on the tone of her voice. "It's fine! You go do your shit, I gotta’ finish getting ready." "Okay Okay, message me after your shift ends. I wanna know everything~!" The bubbly girl says as she mimics a kiss sound. Despite Ayra not being able to see Y/N, she smiles with a soft gaze at the phone before hanging up. Staring into the mirror, she carefully assessed her outfit. A sleek black blouse layered over a white undershirt paired perfectly with a matching black pencil skirt. Light makeup enhanced her features, and her neatly styled hair framed her face just right. She smoothed her clothes with her hands, beaming widely as she twirled in front of the mirror. Y/N gathered all her essentials, carefully packing them into her bag before stepping out of her apartment. She locked the door with a quick twist of the key, then paused to double-check it twice…just to be sure; it was a habit she had done ever since she lived in her parents home.

Stepping into the elevator, she pressed the button for the ground floor. Knowing the ride would take a while, she lived on the second-highest floor, after all, she pulled out her phone to check the time. It was 7:15 a.m. Perfect. With the bus journey to the department taking only 30 minutes, she was right on schedule (which was always a struggle for her.) A grin spread across her face as she opened her email app and tapped on the message from the 'Warrens Department.' Her heart fluttered nervously as she re-read the letter, scanning each line to ensure she hadn’t missed anything important. As she scrolled to the bottom, her brows furrowed. There, tucked away, was a link she hadn’t noticed before.

'Shit I must've missed this' She thought with worry before quickly clicking the link, silently thanking her instincts for prompting her to double-check the message. The link was a profile of the detective that she would be working with. Looking at the picture, she notices that he was a very conventionally attractive male. The formally dressed girl squints her eyes before assessing the man that her eyes laid upon.

Xavier Allette, it read. Twenty-five years old, with five years of experience as a detective.

‘Holy shit, he became a detective at 20? I was still in university then.’ Y/N’s thoughts wandered briefly as she reminisced about her own journey, a flicker of envy stirring as she compared herself to her boss.

Letting out a breath of relief that she didn't know she had; The assistant was expecting an old cruel man as her boss, but to her luck, it was someone of a similar age to her. And, as a bonus, he wasn’t bad to look at either.

Y/N knew better than to judge someone based on their appearance, but as her cheeks warmed, she couldn’t help but blush at the handsome face staring back at her from the screen. A straight pale face, with a clean-shaven look. His hair was a wavy deep black, tussled formally. Eyes sharp and matched with his extremely dark hair. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the absence of a glint or any sign of life in his pupils. ‘I’m overthinking it,’ she told herself. ‘He’s just posing for the picture’. It had to be her psychology degree kicking in, making her analyze every feature of his face like a subject in a case study. Xavier’s nose was strikingly defined, and his lips were full, holding a slightly warm tint that gave his serious expression a subtle softness. Though he was wearing a suit, anyone could tell the detective worked out as his jaw was sharp and his shoulders were broad. It was clear that he took good care of himself.

The only other information displayed on his profile was a list of the cases he had worked on and details about his educational background. 'Maketa Academy?!' That was the most prestigious high school that Y/N had ever heard of. You could either get in with a scholarship or a lot of money. Unfortunately for her, she had been neither crazy smart nor crazy rich, so attending a place like that had never been an option. Y/N couldn’t tell whether Xavier had gotten in through wealth or intellect, but either way, it was impressive. Her train of thought abruptly halted as the elevator chimed, signaling her arrival on the first floor.

Turning off her phone, She exits the building before walking a short distance to the bus so she could arrive at the destination where she was going to be working.

'Please be nice to me, Warrens Department.'

Y/N rushed out of the bus, the clock read 8:00 am. The bus kept on delaying because of the traffic that the driver faced. The 15 minutes that she was hoping she had left to spare, disappeared all because of not getting a driver's licence! Cursing at herself, she ran to the building that was two minutes away. She could get there in ten seconds, her stubbornness is saving her life today.

The girl stared in awe at the building for a second. It was massive and incredibly modern. A large sign labelled Warrens Department was placed right in the middle of the building. Shaking her head, she scans the key card that came into the mail a week ago and fixes any loose hairs before walking into the building.

8:01 am, Already a minute late, though not much of a difference, she didn't want to disappoint her boss on the first day. Power walking to the reception she sighs shyly before speaking up. "Hi!" Her voice cracks.

'Oh my god, first I'm late, now my voice cracks, I should just quit my job and leave this e-' "Hello! Who’re you? I've never seen you before?" The ginger girl behind the desk questioned loudly. Her light southern accent peeked through. The red-haired was incredibly short, her face caked with pink-themed makeup matching her formal pink outfit. Y/N thought the receptionist was cute and seemed nice too! If she wasn't too busy stressing about being late, she'd love to be her friend. "I'm the detective's new assistant— Xaviers Allette's assistant." Y/N rambles, hands shaking with nerves.

"Y/N L/N?" The receptionist questioned with eyebrows raised, Y/N nods quickly and shows her key card to the lady. "I'm Abigail!" her smile drops, "Also, you should probably head over to his office quickly, Mr Allette hates tardiness.. a lot." It was now Y/N's turn for her face to drop, she mumbles a quick thank you before running off.She stops in her tracks as she realised her stupid mistake. "Hey Abigail, what's his room number?" Y/N spoke rushing back to the desk. Reaching halfway, the red-haired girl puts her hand out, ordering her to stop running back. "It's on the second floor, room 11, hurry!" She yells, shaking her hand. The late assistant puts a thumbs up as a way of saying thank you before completely ignoring the elevator and rushing up the stairs. Turning left she finds the room that is the lead detective. On the door, a silver plate is shown with 'Room 11' and 'Xavier Allette' engraved onto them in a fancy font.. It was clear that his room was the biggest on the floor.

Wiping the sweat off her hands and re-checking herself on the reflection of the plate, she checks the time.

8:05 am.

Y/N knocks on her boss's door. The door opens automatically, she notices the man that was just on her screen almost an hour ago, sitting down with his eyes furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. His eyes were fixated on his computer screen, fist propped against his chin. The assistant looks around while patiently waiting for him to say something.

20 seconds passed and all that she could hear were the sounds of him typing. the h/c hair-coloured girl clears her throat.

"Good morning, sir. My name is Y/N L/N, and Im p-"

"You're late." A deep, harsh voice cuts her off.

A/N : New story :p !! i really like the plot for this one and will have a masterlist out for it soon!

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