#noncon ment

[way2manyusernamez]

I've been noticing a lot of people in the radqueer community hiding behind vague harmful identities. Here is a short dictionary of what they really mean, with sources:

Xenosatanism

abolition of age of consent

pro bestiality

pro 'real cp'

believes in "non-consensual but harmless sexual interaction" and its legalization

also, this paragraph: "Destigmatization and desacralization to some extent of rape, molestation, sexual abuse (bcs of a priori and retrospective harm induced by internalized social norms. Tho, we don’t want harmful rape to be fully legal)"

Basedqueer

pro nonconsensual abuse

pro "cisharmfuls who arent seeking recovery / want to get worse"

pro real cults, harassment, self harm and eating disorder encouragement

pro contact

pro "minor made porn / minor sexual material"

Lacedqueer

pro rape and noncon abuse

meant to be a combination between basedqueer and LSDqueer

Noxiaqueer

pro bestiality

pro CP

pro xenosatanism and basedqueer

"neutral" and "flexible" about stalking, harassment, suicide baiting, cults, rape, and non consensual activities

LSDqueer

pro rape

pro CP

Alternatefreak

pro harassment, abuse, cults, and murder

see also: "Pro abuse terminology on Tumblr", and my screenshot of what "MSM/MMP" means (minor sexual material / minor made pornography) (edit: hyperlinks broke in this paragraph, edited to fix)

[whumpzone]

You know the trope of a whumpee having to be tied down while at the hospital/medic center because they’re fighting back and not letting the doctors do their job? I really like the idea of that combined with past noncon because at first maybe the whumpee was only afraid of getting hurt or something but then they’re restrained to the bed and they think that these people are going to do more than just hurt them, they’re going to violate the whumpee just like the whumper(s) used to.

And what if the caretaker is in the room too? And the whumpee stares at them with utter betrayal and hatred because it’s one thing to get treated cruelly by a group of unknowns, but to have someone you trusted to keep you safe and cared for watch as you’re restrained and prepped? To hear someone you thought was your friend tell you to settle down and let the doctors “do what they have to”?

Just. Imagine it.

YES I LOVE THIS

[proshipconfessions]

I've heard there are Antis in the D*grees of L*wdity community

The game is literallya nsfw noncon haven & with a bunch of dark tropes left and right

What with Antis being in fandom/community with the things they hate?

———

[televisionenjoyer]

thank u for ur post as a victim of all 3 just want to say i appreciate you and everyone who speaks as someone who can't talk about it at all mwah

i get this so so much. it's been 9 years since I was sexually abused and I still can't tell my mom. The first time I ever snapped about it on this site is when an ao3 board candidate proposed censoring cp and noncon and people acted like it was the end of the world. And it sucked that I couldn't open up until people told me to suck it up and stop being a baby, because there were so many years where I couldn't even rationalize what had happened to me, felt like it was somehow my fault, thought I should just forget about it, that it should be simple.

Honestly the lack of empathy for victims on this site? especially for those who are still in that period of acceptance and learning how to live with it (as if the process ever stops, I say) is so infuriating. To have someone who has never been through it tell you how you're supposed to cope? That you should just shut up and let others enjoy whatever they want?, GOD it fills me with rage. It's horrible. I wish I didn't feel this infuriated.

I'm so sorry this happened to you. I couldn't possibly understand the extent of it but I try my best to comprehend it from my place. I'm glad you felt seen and I hope it makes even the tiniest difference for someone on this site.

[c0rrupted-mov]

TW/ inc//st ment, gore ment, idk how else to tw this I hope this is fine

WHAT THE HELL?? I loved their art and AU😭😭 Just recently remembered their blog and started wondering what happened

I found the proof post too, link in the replies

[blue-phoria]

Heck yeah it's gross and problematic - I'm sure the characters would agree with you if they were real - I ain't writing it for the em to be having a good time lol - it's called conflict and stakes

Ao3 authors, please learn to not insult people and be “morally superior” in the tags

Instead of tagging “noncon is gross” or “not noncon because that’s problematic”, for example, just put “enthusiastic consent” or “consensual sex” in the tags. It makes things a whole lot easier for people to filter and know what’s going on.

I really don’t care that you think noncon fics are bad or whatever, I (and many others) will be more likely to read your fic about two boys who are deeply in love if you aren’t an ass about your morals in fiction :/

[spectral-entitty]

JEEEESUS CHRISTRTT NOT a trans nsfw acc i liked not postifn for a while and then POSTING UNTAGGED noncon fantasy w the R word in it like 4 times in one post i sm so glad im drinking rn CHITST christ. Todawy was even a good day🙄

[cervinae-canine]

i will make it so the "tfc heavy" tag is actually decent and not just full of "non-con" abuse fics. even if i have to claw and bite my way through it

[many-gay-magpies]

HELLO CAN I HEAR MORE OF THE WOLF GIRL MURDER CRYPTID???

She sounds so. So. I beg yuo………..

YES YES OH MY GOD ABSOLUTELY

dude you do not even know I have been trembling like an anxious chihuahua just waiting to be able to go full feral about her to someone. this rocks

OKAY SO. the entire story kind of started because i was listening to a song and i was like you know what this would be great for? being the backing track to a cold open where some girl is running through the woods mid-panic attack after having just killed someone. then it kind of grew a plot from there.

(me, foolishly: oh this will probably not take too long or take up too much space. clearly i forgot just how Able i am to ramble when prompted. put the rest under a cut bc it got LONG)

the cryptid wolf girl herself is named rosalind, or roz for short, or possibly rory for short once she figures out some gender stuff later on... the Central Relationship in the story is between her and her little sister anna. they did... NOT have a great life growing up—dad was an abusive alcoholic, mom was a DEPRESSIVE alcoholic and even when they split up, mom kinda left roz to raise/take care of anna completely on her own... things are better now; mom has cleaned herself up and is trying to be better—but like. that messed roz up lmao. go figure.

so for their whole lives growing up, roz and anna were kind of glued together... ROZ was more of a parent to anna than their own mom, and anna went to her for everything. but in the time of the story, anna's started to Grow Up and Grow OUT of needing her big sister for everything, AND ON TOP OF THAT she's just got herself a boyfriend who fucking sucks and reminds roz WAY too much of their dad... (in my mind I feel like when their parents split and dad left, roz was old enough to actually understand how abusive and shitty he was, but to anna it just seemed like he'd abandoned him, so she's probably a bit stupid about relationships because she's searching for the love she never got from her father/searching for a bandaid to the feeling of abandonment she has from him, but she isn't exactly the healthiest about that and latches onto the first guy that shows her attention, thinking it's Love.)

anyways, this whole deal—anna getting distant, anna being stupid about her bf—makes roz feel Some Type Of Way. she's kind of latched onto her position as anna's pseudo-parent as the crux of her self-worth, so now that anna seems to not NEED her anymore she does not take it well. she wants to protect anna from her toxic bf and from HERSELF, but she can't do a thing and just feels useless because everything she TRIES just ends up pushing anna further away from her. then on her birthday, when she's at her friend's house to celebrate (the best friend she's gay af for, zoe), she makes a wish to be able to protect anna like she used to—aaand the literal moon overhears and basically goes "you have a noble desire, i'll give you my blessing" and turns her into a werewolf (sort of - it's not a whole "turn every full moon" deal, just whenever there's a specific trigger)

anyway like a week after roz's bday when she makes the wish, it's homecoming, and her mom (who is also stupid and just thinks roz hates mark (anna's bf) because she's jealous) has asked her to drive anna to this party mark invited her to... which is in the middle of the woods. with a whole bunch of older high school guys. sure, mom, that's bound to be perfectly safe and legal.

roz has been feeling a little off all week and having weird dreams (unbeknownst to her thanks to her new lunar benefactor). after homecoming, she drives anna to her party... but there is NO FUCKIN WAY she trusts those dudes with her, so she sneaks up to spy on them from the bushes to make sure they're not getting up to any unsavory shit and hurting her little sister. (spoiler alert: they absolutely get up to tons of unsavory shit.) so roz is watching these guys, and it's literally all guys, like anna is the ONLY girl, and they're all older—and they're drinking alcohol, getting progressively more wasted, and anna is refusing but mark keeps pressuring her, and eventually he makes some vague allusions to ah... "loosening her up" with the alcohol so he can have his way with her, while touching her in not-so-great ways... and seeing that triggers roz's first transformation. she just full-on catapults in and tears him to SHREDS, literally. then someone stabs her with a beer bottle and she flees, turns back human, and starts freaking the fuck out because she just killed mark.

okay um. i did not intend to just tell you the entire story up to the point that ive written it. but OH WELL I DID! hope u enjoyed that lmao.

the whole premise of the story is that, despite how much it sucks at first, roz being a werewolf actually kind of brings her, her mom, and her sister closer together... the thing is, the moon, when it heard her wish, it didn't just give her what she asked for—it gave her what she NEEDED. and in general i have lots a feelings about werewolves as the representations of our deepest, most repressed emotions and desires, like if you've seen the whole thing about like "the werewolf is the part of you that LOVES YOU. it is the part of you that is mad at how wrongly you've been treated and wants to PROTECT you." yeah. and i have lots of feelings about the MOON and moon deities as gods of honesty, vulnerability, and seeing the truth of our deepest emotions...

so the wolf is kind of all roz's anger issues just smushed into one big wolfy body. a big theme ive started exploring with the story is that being a werewolf isn't exactly CHANGING roz or making her feel things she's never felt before (like, you know. the murder urges), it's just bringing things she ALWAYS FELT to the forefront and making them unignorable. because above all what roz NEEDS is something to force her to face herself to be able to overcome all the self-hatred she has (because BOY SHIT THERE'S A LOT OF IT). which is also where her relationship with zoe (who ive thought, written, and posted about almost more than the relationship between roz and anna... whoops) comes in.

roz and zoe are best friends. they have been since they were five years old, and zoe has been with roz through like ALLLLL the shit of her seventeen long years. roz is incredibly gay and absolutely in love with zoe, but doesn't realize because she's a fucking dumbass and thinks that's a normal way to feel about her best friend (or, like, maybe she kind of knows something's Different and knows what it IS, but she can't ever let herself realize it fully because ✨internalized homophobia✨).

when the whole wolf thing starts out, roz doesn't tell zoe what's happening, because she's afraid zoe will be afraid of or disgusted by this part of her... which she likes to think is the wolf's doing, but she knows it's really ALWAYS been a part of her. roz keeps the secret from zoe for a WHILE because of this, and keeps pushing her away, but zoe (who Knows roz and loves her back just as intensely) will NOT fucking let her. so there's gonna be like this whole stage of incredibly painful pining, where the moon goddess makes roz realize that she's in love with zoe, but she still hasn't even TOLD zoe about the whole werewolf thing, so there ensue events like: roz in wolf form subconsciously seeking out zoe, breaking out of her house in the middle of the night, going to stand below zoe's window, and then waking up in the morning thinking it was a dream until she sees her window is open and her pajamas are shredded to all hell and goes "shit".

eventually, of course, zoe DOES find out (either by accidentally witnessing a transformation one day or because roz finally caves and tells her, i havent decided yet), and spoiler alert, she isn't disgusted or afraid—she's actually, like, wildly attracted to the feral bloodthirsty vengeful side of roz, because that's the embodiment of roz's deepest, more true self, and zoe has wanted nothing more than to know roz completely—and of course it still takes roz a while to realize zoe's wide-eyed, drop-jawed stares at her are not FEAR but I'M SO GAY IM GONNA OASS OUT HOLY SHIT, because she's fucking stupid.

another honorable mention character: himbo soccer team boy tentatively named matt (gonna change either his or mark's name cuz they're too similar) who witnesses roz partially-transform by accident one day and decides he's going to be absolutely ride-or-die for this tormented lesbian werewolf. he's there for her until she finally gets her shit together and tells zoe what's going on, and long after that. they become a cute little bestie trio and matt ABSOLUTELY realizes how gay roz and zoe are for each other before roz does and he's like JESUS CHRIST JUST KISS ALREADY

(also. most worthy of mention in the yet-to-be-written zoe-and-roz scenes i feel feral about: there's gonna be one after zoe finds out where roz has a really bad transformation, and passes out still wolfed-out in zoe's lap... and she's visibly having a nightmare (plus she's still a wolf which means she's still in crisis mode even though she's sleeping), so zoe starts reading aloud to her while she sleeps until she calms down enough to turn back human... and it starts out as just zoe doing what she's ALWAYS done to comfort and soothe roz, but since roz is ASLEEP it devolves into zoe pouring out her true feelings without roz awake to hear them... then roz wakes up in the middle of zoe reciting shakespeare's sonnet 57 to her and it's like. INSANELY gay. and the whole time matt's off to the side like holy shit.)

ANYWAYS YEAH THAT WAS. A LOT HAHA. I hope u like my feral unhinged asshole werewolf girl :)

[cepheusgalaxy]

"It's everything I'm really good at and all I know how to do" (Line from Use Me Up by Paranoid DJ)

Living weapon/Guard Dog whumpee & sexual slave/Romantic Whumpee. They're friends. None of them has a pleasant personality

[undead-discourse]

so i’ve recently became more proship and have been reading darker fiction without lying to myself about why. some of it? kinda hot. i’d like to also note that i can’t write dark smut at all. i’ve written exactly two dark fics, one was cannibalism eternal hunger horror which i never finished bcs i orphaned every work on that ao3 act, the other was a non-con fic focused on the trauma and unhappy ending, it was not an erotica thing at all. i find it a little amusing because yeah i’ll read the most heinous smut known to man twice over but writing it??? i’m incapable it’s vanilla tender love-so-strong-our-souls-are-holding-hands type fics.

.

[coulsonlives]

Person: "I don't mind what people ship"

Person: *goes on page-long rant full of capslock about how a fandom exploded with noncon shippers in that same post*

Methinks you're in the wrong fandom, fam

[oersteds]

Have your heard of "Love Lead Astray" or "Live A Live: Circus of Deo" on AO3? Judging by your views on the Princess, you might really like it!

my dear anon in arms: fuck off. i said no alicia talk period

i dont care what your views on bitchtits are, i don't want to talk abt her ever

also please never recommend a torture porn fic to me ever again

in fact don't recommend fucking non-con nsfw to anyone for that matter holy shitsticks I Did Not Ask. why the funky fresh hell did you assume i'd enjoy being recommended a non-con fic. just because i hate a character doesn't mean i'll enjoy going against my core value of "people should be allowed to live / heal even if i hate them"

[b1mbodoll]

it’s me i’m the kitty won enjoyer i think i actually need to be chained up when im ovulating i cant do this anymore 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 kittywon and baby trapping……… its like you read my mind i could kiss ur brain 🩵

pairings: yang jungwon x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + barbed cock! won + dacryphilia + babytrapping (baby referred to as his kitten) + noncon + pregnancy ment + lactation

💌: NO UR SO REAL… we r ovulation twins like this is TOO MUCH!!!! free us!!!!!!! anyway enjoy this quick thought hehehhmmfmenfnf

kitty! jungwon is a clueless little thing and doesn’t realize that humans don’t have heats like female hybrids.. doesn’t know that human cunts weren’t exactly made for taking hybrid cocks either.

that’s why he simply licks away your tears as he pounds your poor pussy, his barbed cock is long and thick, stretching your hole so much it hurts, pained sobs and garbled cries of his name the only noises you’re able to make.

wonie’s so eager to breed you; wants to cream your cunt and knock you up, desperate to see you carrying his kittens and feel your tits, heavy with milk and leaking at the smallest amount of pressure.

his thrusts are brutal and relentless, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, wet plap, plap, plaps as he rearranges your insides, inner walls wrapped around his cock like a vice; almost as if you don’t want him anywhere but inside of you, sucking his length deeper and deeper, spasming due to the spiked feel.

painful pleasure is wiped from your mind and fear is the only feeling you can focus on as jungwon’s pace turns sloppy and his breathy yowls warn you of his impending orgasm. “wonie.. jungwon! stop, pull out, please. pullout, pullout, pull-“

it’s like he can’t hear you, despite the way his furry ears twitch and his tail thrashes wildly, and you can do nothing but lay there and take it, his cockhead piercing your womb and flooding it with hot, sticky cum, making you wince when he grinds his hips, the thought of making it stick clouding his kittybrain.

he begins to purr, wrapping his tail around your thigh as a content smile makes its way onto jungwon’s lips. “‘m gonna make you a mommy.”

[ningvory]

secret — julie han

CW: noncon/dubcon, g!p julie, julie’s a perv, manipulation, corruption, naïve reader, unnie kink, creampie, mentions of natty in the end, not proofread, this is rushed so apologies in advance! 🙏

word count: 1.3k

anon ask? yes!

you’ve been a trainee for just over three years by now and you’ve been striving for your dream of becoming an idol for years.

you’ve been transferred to different companies in hopes of being able to debut with a few other girls but it never happened. so you joined S2 just after they debuted their most recent gg, kiss of life in hopes of debuting in their next group or even becoming a soloist. i mean, you’ve got the voice and and you can put on a show so yea, really could.

ever since you switched over to S2, you’ve gotten more sharper with your moves and worked on your dance technique. it was known to the other trainee’s that you were definitely going to debut sooner or later under S2, even you knew yourself. everyone knew you were the favorite trainee to the trainers. you caught everyone’s eye, rather it was your looks or your talent. you even managed to catch a special someone’s eye.

but what you didn’t expect was for the company to just add you in a already established group. especially since they were starting to get ready for their long anticipated comeback. S2 had long thought about adding a new member to the group and they decided that you were the only one that they picked to be the added member to the group. plus, the girls even agreed to it too, especially the eldest of the four, julie.

when it was time to meet, you all actually got along really wel! you were now the middle child in the group, being an 03 liner, you were younger than julie and natty but older than belle and haneul. it’s like you were ment to be in the group the whole time.

song recording went really good, you got plenty of compliments from the producers and composers. saying how great you sounded with just raw vocals and that you should’ve been debuted, making your cheeks hurt from all the cheesing you were doing in the studio.

now it was the time to learn the choreo itself, and let’s just say, they had you damn near breaking your back in a few moves to make it more visually pleasing to the eye. you decided to wear a crop top that barely did anything to cover you up with pink sweats. you didn’t wanna wear something that you’ll get hot in immediately, not thinking that it’ll be a bother to anyone.

but oh julie, all hot and bothered, trying to hide her boner from you all and the choreographer. it was so wrong she kept telling herself, watching how you were practicing the hip move in the chorus section of the song. so wrong and sick of her to just shamelessly stare at your tits and your ass, fantasizing about how your ass would smack against her tummy from her forceful thrusts to your cunt. but she just can’t help herself…you’re just so cute to her, and so…fuckable, how can she not? her daydreaming got too much for her she had to go excuse herself to the bathroom and relieve herself from her painful erection.

for the past few days you all had multiple group practices to make sure everything looked eye catching and synchronized. which of course, it did. but the more dance practices, the more confident you got with your moves, especially the more sexier moves, which did nothing to help julie’s raging boner.

she almost always was daydreaming, making you tap her and ask if everything was alright which seemed to break her out of the dream.

“julie unnie? is everything alright?” you asked her with a soft tone, looking directly in her eyes with doe eyes. fuck. she was caught, and she swears you’re doing it on purpose.

but what was she supposed to say to that? ‘yea i was just fantasizing about you riding me while i play with your tits.’ but she gained composure, “yea! don’t worry about me, got lost in my thoughts,” she gave a small smile, reassuring you as you nod your head and continued practicing. if only you knew you were the only thing on her mind.

since she was the leader, she had to monitor the four of you dancing. making sure there’s no mistakes, you all did amazing but julie payed the most attention to you. not because you were the newest member of the group, but because you were just so mesmerizing. each sway of your hips and bounce of your tits had julie left in a trance that she didn’t want to break out of, she had it bad for you and everyone could tell except for you.

you all lost track of time and it was far time to go. but you still wanted to practice, ignoring the fact your body was exhausted. which julie took for the perfect opportunity.

you wanted you moves to be basically flawless, being the newest member to an already established group meant there was a lot of eyes on you. julie took this opportunity and stayed with you.

“thanks for staying, unnie! you really didn’t have t—,”you went to say but was cut off by julie pushing you to the ground.

“see what you’ve done to unnie, baby? swear you’re doing this shit on purpose.” she groaned, getting ontop on your shocked body, pinning your arms beside your head with a tight grip.

“wh—wha? unnie, get off me!” you shouted a little to loud, making her remove a hand to cover your mouth.

“fuck..don’t cry baby. do this for unnie ‘kay? you’ll be good for unnie, right?” julie shushed you, pulling your sweats and panties down, before undoing her pants and her boxers.

she wasted no more time, plunging into you. head swinging back from the pleasure, biting her lip to conceal her moans.

“u-unnie—stop! d-don’ ‘wan it! please—!” your poor lil cunt s’not use to being filled all the way up! tears begin to fall down your face, trying to push her away and shoving at her with you hands.

“stupid slut, take all i give you—fuck!—you cryin’ f’me to stop but your cunt is suckin’ me all in.” she grunts, bullying her thick cock inside your lil cunt. she’s pounding into you anomalistically, she’s lost her composure to try and hold herself back.

she lifts your tight shirt up and pulls your bra down to play with your tits. she groped and pinched you nipples, making you squeak out. more tears falling down.

“all your damn crying isn’t gonna make me stop, baby.” she stays before moving her hands down to pinch your clit.

“don’t even think about telling the others, they won’t believe you, stupid whore.” she snarks, balls slapping against your ass from the quick pace she’s going.

“shit—g’na cum. and you’re gonna take it all!” her thrusts become sloppy, before she fills your cunt up with her thick spurts of cum.

when you feel her fill you up, you felt your body begin to shake. before letting out a loud whine, cumming aggressively on her cock still inside you!

she slowly pulls out, pressing down on your tummy to see her cum begin to spill out, making you whimper. the tingling sensation of her pulling out of your cum covered cunt has you quivering.

once you got home and took a long shower, you went to tell the second eldest, natty. telling her what your leader did to you but she just laughs in your face. telling you that you shouldn’t have been teasing her. but poor you, natty’s no better than julie! she waits till your sleeping and uses your tired body for her own pleasure! waking you up from your sleep and filling you up with her cock! before telling your sleepy self that you better get used to being their personal fucktoy cuz their gonna use you for their own pleasure, not caring if you cum or not! :((

[glimmeringtwilight]

Gilded Cage (Part Three)

ok. i'm not going to try to come up with a clever name for this one, this is just. part three. please send an ask or a DM if I missed any CW's! been a while.

Pairing(s): Dottore/Reader, Pantalone/Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

CW: NSFW, drugging (painkillers and other ment), rough sex, biting, threats of mutilation (mild. but it's Dottore), yandere themes, noncon/dubcon, AFAB reader, overstimulation, humiliation

Dottore has been on edge lately. 

You can tell. You can see it in his jaw when he’s sedating you as you lie on the operating table, eyes burning and dark as he stares through you at something presumably only he can see. You can see it in the way his hand sometimes twitches slightly– which bodes terribly for you– as he makes a small incision into your thigh, or your stomach, or your arm.

Most of the time, you think he just cuts into you simply because he can. Because he likes to watch the blood welling from the wound, dripping down your skin. He’s been doing it a lot more lately, sometimes forgetting to sedate you, sometimes forgetting to give you something for the pain, sometimes cutting too deep.

It feels like there’s a storm brewing that you can’t see; curtains drawn so you can’t look out the window and see the magnitude, brace yourself for wind or rain.  

His clones seem to be affected by it, too; usually it’s only ever the younger clones of his that lash out, but even the supposedly older ones are starting to show signs of agitation. You haven’t seen the same test subject twice in what feels like weeks. All of them seem to enter and leave the lab only once– something that should horrify you more than it does, whenever you watch them wheeling the covered bodies past. 

It’s this way for weeks. Dottore stalks around his lab like a harbinger of death, practically oozing poison and malice despite the deceptively calm mask he dons. 

You find out what it is that’s been agitating him when he opens the door to your cell one morning. Not a clone. Not the occasional trembling Fatuus. Him. His eyes burn into you. You can’t make out the emotion in them, but the complete coolness in his expression makes your stomach sink. You wonder, briefly, if he’s going to finally kill you– would that be a mercy, at this point? Killing you? Perhaps not. Knowing him, he’d draw it out. Make it hurt. 

Still, despite the terror that curls its fingers around your throat, you follow him quietly out of the cell and into the lab, staring at the back of his head as you walk and wishing you could read minds so you could at least brace yourself for whatever this is.

The two of you enter the lab and you finally realize what it is that’s crawled under Dottore’s skin, sat at the desk in the corner as though he’s not terribly out of place in the sterile environment. 

Pantalone sits comfortably in one of the chairs near the desk Dottore rarely seems to use, smiling as though he’s received a warm welcome and a parade. Dottore, meanwhile, looks palpably annoyed as he strides past the banker and takes a seat behind the desk, motioning for you to follow. 

It’s… Intensely uncomfortable, to say the least. You rarely find yourself sitting at Dottore’s desk, considering the doctor usually prefers to be conducting experiments rather than sitting and compiling data; he usually delegates that to his clones, who bitch and moan about the boring task. 

So sitting in a chair, next to the two men who’ve each held you captive at different points, as Dottore practically radiates anger… You don’t know what to do. You fold your hands in your lap, avoiding looking at either one, even as you can feel the two of them just… staring. 

You feel like you’re under a microscope, worse than any other time before when you’d been laid out on the operating table under Dottore’s invasive prodding.

Pantalone speaks first, breaking the charged silence. 

“I take it you don’t mind if I verify that this one’s real,” He says, rising from his chair and smiling at the way Dottore visibly bristles. “After all, I’m paying for this, aren’t I? I deserve that much.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about you, and the demeaning way in which he’s referring to you as though you’re some object that might be counterfeit is both unnerving and irritating. You’re careful not to let it show on your face as Pantalone approaches you. 

“What-” You start to ask, but you’re swiftly interrupted by gloved fingers prying open your mouth, prodding around in search of something that isn’t there. You feel them press down on your tongue, ghost over molars, then press against the back of your throat until you gag. 

Somewhat satisfied, the banker pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your chin firmly with a now-damp glove, turning your head this way and that and ignoring the obvious discomfort painted on your features as the action smears drool on your skin. What is he doing?

You shoot a glance towards Dottore, who is still just watching. He’s obviously pissed– you can see a vein popping in his forehead, belaying his anger on his otherwise blank face. 

Pantalone lets go of your chin in favor of grabbing you by the arms, pulling you up from your chair and motioning for you to spin around in a circle. You do, though you’re still confused, unsure of what’s happening as the banker seems to be appraising you like a precious gem. It’s a different type of poking and prodding than Dottore’s usual tests and checkups, but it’s invasive nonetheless. It’s doubly unsettling that this is the first time you’ve seen the banker without his usual smarmy smile. 

Hands find your shoulders and stop you again, and you bristle when they trace the curve of your spine, exposed thanks to the open back of the hospital gown. You feel them stop, tap something just to the left of one of your vertebrae, and Pantalone spins you back around to face him, clearly pleased. 

You try not to flinch when he takes a lock of your hair in his hands– it’s gotten so long since you’d been brought back to the lab– and brings it closer to his face. His nose crinkles, palpable disgust on his features, and he mutters something about “that vile soap he makes you use”– likely referring to Dottore– before turning around to face the man in question. 

“Are you done ogling?” Dottore asks, his tone clipped. You can’t see him around the banker, but you’re sure he still looks as pissed as before. 

Pantalone tilts his head slightly, smiling, then glances over his shoulder at you. “Perhaps not yet, but I’m satisfied enough for now. You’ll get the funding for your little… project, and I expect to see this one at my doorstep every other month from now on.”

Every other month? You frown. Is this some sort of… custody arrangement that the two men worked out? You don’t know if you want to laugh or not at the absurdity of it all; like you’re the unfortunate child of two divorced bastards, except this is much, much worse.

“Fine,” Dottore grits out, in a tone that suggests it’s anything but. He gets up to shoo the banker out of his lab, but Pantalone merely tuts and makes his way back over to where you’re standing, confused, and rests one hand heavily on your shoulder.

“One month starting today, of course,” Pantalone continues, “It’s only fair, after all, when you’ve been hoarding my poor pet this whole time. I have to make up for lost time, after all.”

He delivers those words with a smile that only seems to irritate Dottore further, red eyes boring holes into him as Dottore visibly seems to be contemplating murder. Pantalone speaks up again before he does anything, however, offering a hollow consolation: “Of course, I’m not cruel. How about a farewell? A parting gift, to… tide you over while they’re gone?”

You don’t like the sound of that, and Dottore seems to pick up on the banker’s suggestion as you’re spun around once more and ushered towards the exam table you’ve become intimately familiar with for the last several months. 

For this supposedly being Dottore’s “parting gift,” Pantalone is awfully remiss to keep his hands– and commentary– to himself. 

“Ah, what a cute noise that was,” You hear him coo, a finger tapping your nose with just enough force to startle you so you flinch, “Don’t you think you’re being a bit rough though, Doctor?”

“Quiet.”

You jostle against the table, gripping the edge of it for support as hips snap into yours with bruising force. Dottore’s fingers are gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises– that’s probably the point, honestly; he’s fucking you like he intends for you to feel it for the entire month you’ll be absent. 

Pantalone’s comments aren’t helping things either; despite the banker’s comment about roughness, it only seems to have encouraged the doctor to go even harder. 

Thankfully, you were given something for the pain, but not from Dottore. Pantalone had pressed a pill into your gasping mouth when Dottore had started, telling you that you were going to need it, and though swallowing was a struggle, you’re glad he did. 

Dull pain and sharp pleasure mingle together, and you’ve long since lost track of the orgasms that have been dragged out of you. You’re starting to numb, honestly, overstimulation bleeding into pain, and you gasp into the table with every sharp thrust into you. 

“Tsk– don’t pass out now,” Pantalone chides, fingers curling around your jaw and biting into your cheeks when your eyes threaten to flutter shut, and Dottore snarls something about cutting your spinal cord if you do; something you sincerely hope is an empty threat, given the black spots dancing in your vision. “You still have another thirty minutes to go.”

You don’t remember there being a timer set, much less a time limit, but you certainly know you can’t last that much longer. Your knees have already long since given out, and Dottore had to hoist you up further onto the table so he could continue, leaving your feet dangling a few inches above the ground. 

You feel weight against your back, heat, smothering you as Dottore leans down to sink his teeth into your shoulder as he spills inside you once more, and you shudder through another weak orgasm in response, your eyes rolling back and your vision blacking out for several long moments. 

Pantalone shakes you back awake before you can slip too far, and you sob as Dottore starts to move again. You already know that you won’t be able to walk for the next few days, if not for the next week. 

Tears blur your vision, the world spinning around you as a gloved hand comes to rest against your head, petting you in what’s likely intended as a comforting gesture but only seems to frazzle you further, overwhelmed and overstimulated as you are. 

It must be Pantalone, because Dottore lets out an irritated noise, sinking his teeth into your skin to leave a new mark as he resumes the harsh pace he’d set earlier. Another hand, this one not gloved, curls around your throat to dig two fingers into your racing pulse as he tries to engrave himself into your flesh through means slightly less violent than cutting you open. 

You can barely keep track of who’s doing what– your vision is too blurred and you’re too far gone to fully piece together a coherent thought before it and the breath are knocked out of you by another snap of Dottore’s hips. One of them reaches down to rub circles into sensitive nerves, and you sob as another climax is ripped unwillingly out of you. 

You black out for longer this time, shaken awake once more by Pantalone. He’s cooing something at you that you can’t make out, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the sound of Dottore’s ragged breaths mixing in with your own. 

It feels like you’re burning up, shivering weakly under Dottore’s crushing weight as the man seems to be pouring every ounce of frustration into his thrusts, and darkness encroaches on the corners of your vision with every movement. 

Another shuddering orgasm. You twitch weakly through it, your body registering the sensation more than your mind does. 

The world seems to tip, swaying like a vessel rocked by choppy waves before finally capsizing. Your vision goes, and you’re pulled into a sea of static. 

It smells like lilacs. 

It’s the first thing you notice when you slowly come to, a stark contrast to the smell of bleach and copper that you’ve become accustomed to. You’re also dressed in some proper clothes– or rather, ”proper,” compared to the usual paper-thin hospital gowns you’ve worn since being brought back to the lab. 

Opening your eyes, you’re greeted with the familiar luxuries you remember seeing when you were last in Pantalone’s care, and the sight would nearly be a relief if consciousness didn’t bring with it the unbearable ache in every inch of your body. There’s a budding headache building behind your temples, stinging pains from various bites and bruises littering your skin like brands.

It aches most between your legs, but there’s an ache in your thighs and your stomach like you’d pulled every muscle within; you probably did, honestly, but you try to push back the memory invading your thoughts and you sit up in bed. 

“You’re awake,” A silky voice drawls from behind you just as you sit up, and you turn around to see Pantalone sitting in an armchair in the corner, one leg folded over the other as he reads a book. He doesn’t look up as he addresses you; he just pats his knee, indicating he expects you to come to him. You’re not sure you can walk…

Climbing out of the soft bed hurts, various muscles protesting the movement, and you’re not surprised when your knees give out on you the second you rest your weight on your feet. Pantalone simpers at you from where he sits, amused, but he makes no move to help you stand up or walk. He just pats his thigh again, smiling at you. 

“I can’t walk,” Even talking hurts, evidenced by the crackling of your voice when you speak. 

“Then crawl.”

He says it so simply, as though you should have already known the answer. Your ears burn with humiliation. You don’t move.

“Don’t make me punish you on your first day back,” He says, setting his book down so he can properly address you. His tone is disappointed, but you don’t miss the way the bastard’s smile widens at the idea. 

Pantalone’s punishments aren’t nearly as severe as Dottore’s are, at least in terms of pain. Rather than physical punishments, he seems to prefer humiliation. You’re tempted to try your luck, but… everything hurts. You don’t want him to decide you haven’t earned the privilege of clothes– or find something equally humiliating and degrading– on top of the pain you’re already in.

Crawling hurts. Every muscle protests the movement, yet again, but you force yourself to ignore the aches, to ignore the humiliation burning beneath your skin at being made to crawl over to him. 

When you finally reach him you sit up unsteadily so you can climb into his lap, but you’re surprised when he stops you by pressing a gloved hand firmly against your head to keep you planted on your knees in front of him. 

Instead of addressing your confusion, Pantalone merely smiles and takes hold of your wrist, raising your arm to inspect the scars and bruises littering your skin from the months spent under Dottore’s care. His face twists with disgust, shifting into faux sympathy when he addresses you again, “Poor thing. Look what he’s done to you…”

His free hand comes to rest on his knee as he straightens up, uncrossing his legs, and you hear a steady tap tap tap as he drums his index finger against his knee thoughtfully. “Aren’t you glad I’ve brought you back from that wretched place?”

It’s a leading question. You know he expects you to answer correctly, and you get the sense he’s leading into something; a demand. “...Yes.”

“I knew you would be.” He says, dropping your wrist and leaning back comfortably in the armchair. He looks down at you, clearly pleased with the position you’re in. He props one elbow against the arm of the chair, resting his head in his hand as he smiles down at you. “Why don’t you be a good pet and show me just how appreciative you are?”

The implication isn’t lost on you, but whatever hope you’d had that he might mean something else is dashed as he spreads his legs slightly further apart to make room for you between them, and you don’t miss the growing bulge in his dress pants. 

Your hands are numb as you reach for his belt, and you barely flinch when his hand rests heavily against the back of your hand as you take him into your mouth. 

One cage for another. You’re not even sure you’re relieved, because every part of you still aches from the reminders Dottore had left you with. 

His hand presses against the back of your head, guiding you to take him further into your mouth, and you struggle to breathe around his length. You nearly gag as he pushes you down further, pushing back in resistance, and Pantalone clicks his tongue in disappointment but thankfully, lets up. Maybe he doesn’t want to ruin his pants. 

“I’ll get you something for the scarring,” He murmurs, fingers curling in your hair as you bob your head up and down his length. “And those garish bruises.”

Whether it’s an insult towards you or Dottore, you’re not sure. You try not to focus on it, instead focusing on the task at hand. You lave your tongue along the base of his shaft, earning a small shiver and a heady sigh from him. 

He’s silent for a few minutes as you continue to pleasure him, but you feel him boring holes into the top of your head. You don’t look up at him; you don’t want to. You’re trying to get this over with, and hoping that his silence means you’re doing well. 

The hand on the top of your head leaves, and you flinch when you feel him trace his fingers over one of the scabbed over bites left by Dottore, nearly biting down in surprise. You swallow, suppress the urge, resuming your pace even as he traces the outline of every bite left littered along your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders.

Pantalone straightens up a little, pressing his hand against the back of your head again to force you to take more than you already can. This time, he doesn’t relent when you push back, just holding his hand still until you stop whimpering and you manage to swallow back the urge to gag. 

“Hush.” He tells you in response to your muffled noises, groaning quietly at the way your throat vibrates around his cock.

You eventually relax, eventually get used to the feeling, and he lets you pull back slightly before he’s pressing down again, repeating until tears are spilling down your cheeks as you struggle not to reflexively bite down each time you gag slightly around his length. 

“How would you feel about something… permanent?” He asks, and his fingers are tracing the bites again. You try to pull back to answer, but his other hand stops you and he rocks his hips lazily into your mouth. A rhetorical, then; he doesn’t care for your answer.

You try to blink back your tears as you resume the pace you’d set, sucking lightly on his cock as his hand curls into your hair. It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying as his hand keeps threatening to force you down farther than you can take, and you’re focusing on stamping down the swelling nausea. 

“Something- hm-” He hums, and you can tell he’s getting close now, with the way his breathing is starting to deepen, his hand tightening its hold on your hair- “something tasteful. Not like those eyesores he leaves you. A collar is- fuck- too… too easy to remove.”

You don’t like where this is going, but humming your dissent only earns you a pleasured hiss and a rumble of praise spilling from his lips before he’s curling his fingers around the back of your neck. 

It’s the only warning you get before he shoves your head down, holding you there as cum spills into your mouth and down your throat. It takes everything in you to relax your jaw, and you pull back gasping and sputtering the second he relents.

By the time your vision clears and you blink back the tears spilling from your eyes, he’s already tucked himself back into his pants and is just watching you struggle to catch your breath. He doesn’t even comment on the mess of cum and drool that spilled from your lips onto the floor. 

It takes you a second to realize he’s not staring at you, but rather at the marks left on your skin. 

After a minute of tense silence, he smiles again, patting his lap this time in invitation for you to sit, and you ignore the familiar sting of humiliation as you obey. Again, one of his hands curls around the nape of your neck, tracing some pattern into your skin. 

“Right here,” He murmurs, though he doesn’t elaborate when your brows pinch together in confusion.

It takes you a second to realize he’s tracing invisible letters across your nape, then another few to realize it’s his name that he’s tracing into your skin. 

Something tells you that Dottore isn't going to be pleased to see you again at the end of the month.