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minty-mumbles · 2 years ago

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Febuwhump Day 13: Forced to Harm a Loved One

Read the full collection of my febuwhump ficlets on AO3

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“N-no, no!”

Warriors cringed internally as he heard Wild’s cries. It was terrible having to listen to the sound of his pleading and know that it was he who was causing Wild so much pain. He was the one responsible for this, he was the one choosing to do this to Wild. He was-

Warriors did his best to shake off those thoughts. It wouldn’t help anyone if he fell into a downward spiral of horrible thoughts. Wild needed him to be present and aware. And really, Warriors wasn’t the one who was hurting him. Not that he would ever say it- and certainly not now- but it was Four who was the one causing Wild’s pain.

Warriors was just the one holding him down, not letting him get away or buck Four off of him where the smithy was straddling Wild’s weakly kicking legs.

Warriors was just the one holding him down, and that was almost worse.

Wild was a free spirit. Warriors had known from the day he’d met the champion that he was a hard one to pin down, figuratively and literally. He was always moving and didn’t like being told to stay still. (One time Legend had snapped irritably at Wild about his habit of rocking back and forth on his feet, and the look WIld had shot the veteran had been absolutely scathing. No one ever mentioned that particular habit of his again.)

Being told not to wander off was also irritating to the champion, but at least he’d finally gotten in the habit of letting them know when he was planning on disappearing. Warriors thanked the stars for that, as it had saved them more than one headache in the past few months.

All of this put together signaled a very free-spirited hero.

Warriors had always suspected that Wild had some sort of issue with being restrained or confined. For a split second of selfishness, Warriors wishes he was not having that suspicion confirmed.

But the life of a hero wasn’t easy. The battlefield was a dangerous place, and even if a delirious hero pleaded and begged, his blood-soaked bandages needed to be changed. Warriors wished that they hadn’t let Wild put his tunics back on after dressing his wound in the first place. But they couldn’t’ve known that the wound would end up becoming infected.

Warriors looked up to check the process, trying to gauge how much longer this was going to go on and how much longer he would need to listen to his brother cry. The smithy’s eyes were frantically cycling through nearly all the colors of the rainbow, but he kept as steady a hand as possible in this scenario.

It took a great deal of careful maneuvering to get Wild out of his Champions’ tunic. They persisted though, even as Wild cried out in pain and panic.

If it had been anyone else, they would have simply cut the tunic off and spared themself the trouble. But they both knew that Wild would kill them later if they destroyed the tunic his Zelda had made for him. They didn’t bother to be so careful with his undertunic, simply using Warriors knife to cut it off of Wild. He would be able to borrow one of the others' spare tunics until the group reached the next town.

The entire process of removing his clothes so they could get at his bandages seemed to be agony for Wild. Warriors knew from experience that lifting your arms when you had an injury on your side hurt. But it wasn’t only that.

“No, stop, I don’ wan- I don’ wanna take m’ clothes off. Sto’ it- Four, stop.”

Wild’s words were slurred but still understandable. Warriors risked a glance up at Four, and found that the smithy looked like he wanted to cry to. He visibly steeled himself, took a deep breath, and continued. His eyes had settled on purple and green, the blue and red retreating from his gaze.

Warriors tried to follow his example, taking a steadying breath and trying to ignore Wild’s wails.

Wild may be confused and combative- as evidenced by the bruise forming on Four’s cheek- and more than a little out of touch with the situation, but he was obviously still present enough to recognize the two of them. It only made the situation worse, that Wild was able to call out their names when he begged for them to stop.

Wild had taken his shirt off in front of the rest of the group plenty of times, not to mention the time he had shown them all his cars. But there was a difference between removing clothing consensually when you were lucid enough to understand what was happening, and having your clothing removed and cut off when you were only partially present in your own mind.

Warriors felt sick.

Maybe Wild had no reason to be this defensive. Maybe he was just delirious and confused. That still wouldn’t make it okay, but it would make the whole situation easier to smooth over when Wild comes back to himself. But Warriors had a sinking suspicion that the issue ran deeper than that.

Maybe, Warriors hoped, Wild simply didn’t want to show off his scars. The champion acted rather nonchalant about them, but that didn’t mean he was obligated to show them off.

But maybe, Warriors shuddered, maybe Wild was afraid of something, something that Warriors himself had been through and would never wish on anyone. There were very few reasons someone would try to forcibly remove someone else’s clothes, and none of them were good.

To Wild’s hazy mind, which obviously didn‘t recognize that he needed to change his bandages, there would be only one option left. Being held down and stipped out of his tunic…

Warriors’ next breath came out as a shuddering gust of air, and he had to resist the urge to gag.

The cries of their names made it obvious that Wild knew who was trying to get his clothes off. Warriors and Four were only trying to help, but from Wild’s point of view?

Warriors wished the other heroes were here. Twilight, at least, would be able to help soothe the panicked champion. The ranch hand had a way with the wild hero, and always managed to calm him. Maybe restraining Wild wouldn’t’ve even been necessary in the first place.

Anyone else would have been a help too. Just having someone there to reassure Wild who was actively trying to disrobe him or holding him down would have made their task easier.

But there was no one else here. It was only Four, Warriors, and Wild, alone in a strange era. The other heroes were Hylia-knows-where, separated from the three of them by the very fight that had injured the champion.

Leadership now fell to Warriors. He was the oldest, and the highest up in the pecking order the heroes had seemed to naturally fall into, back when they had first met. He was the one in charge.

Normally, Warriors would not flinch at this. He was one of the finest captains in the Hyrulean military. He was more than used to leading, even if he had to make a hard decision that might hurt some of the people under his commands.

But selfishly, Warriors wished that just this once, the burden of making hard decisions did not rest on his shoulders.

#TW mentions of rape #vaguely implied past non-con #Whether Wild is afriad because of past non-con like Warriors thinks or if Warriors is just projecting is up to the reader #mint's fanfiction #linked universe #lu warriors #lu wild #lu four #lu warriors angst #lu wild angst #febuwhump #whump

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walkthemoonshadow · 7 months ago

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God fucking DAMN IT. I was enjoying the HELL out of Meet You at the Blossom, BEYOND excited when I discovered it—an UNCENSORED WUXIA BL??? As someone who only likes the stuff set in Ancient China and not modern times, it was a dream. And I was hooked from the beginning; I love all of the characters, and the main romance was so cute. I did pick up on some of Huaien’s possessiveness etc but it wasn’t too bad so I was just hoping it was part of his cold, never-known-love demeanor (which, I mean, it kinda is? but in this case surpasses a simple variability in personality and reaches troubling territory). Then he went unhinged in episode 5/6 and r*ped Xiabao??? Is this what happens in the book too?

And I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s still a really interesting show and Huaien is a captivating character, but damn. Sometimes I just don’t have the energy.

That being said though I am gonna keep watching it lmao.

#not here to start discourse either i consider it r*pe but if you don’t whatever it’s fictional either way #I suppose it really doesn’t help that r*pe is like my one trigger #though I feel like I handled it better this time than in the past like even the non-con kiss in mdzs set me off more than this #rape tw #meet you at the blossom #meet you at the blossom spoilers #blooming flowers silent sorrow

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nade2308 · 4 months ago

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This fic needs a few pointers before reading:

1. When we watched Crossing Lines, me and Thistle started brainstorming a version where there is an additional team member that will bond with Carl.

2. Thus Mac was born. We needed another European imp, and given I live in Europe just not in the EU zone, was the perfect excuse to mold a character based on someone outside of the EU that got a chance to work with them, thanks to the similarities of the serial killer cases with a case from her country.

3. Her name is Makedonka Jankovska and she goes by "Mac" to be easily remembered and pronounced. More background will follow in the fics I have written for them both that are alternative versions of some of the episodes, and they will be put in a series (the order will be determined once I post all fics).

4. The non-con is implied, nothing is explicit, and it is also something we came up based on how skittish Carl was when Genovese was around.

5. I had so much fun building this world around Mac and Carl (and for the sake of the plot and implications, some events were/will be altered to accommodate that).

Happy reading!

@thethistlegirl

#whumptober2024 #no.2 #amusement park #crossing lines #fic #past rape/non-con #carl hickman #OC #makedonka jankovska #my fic #my writing #my edit

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ex0rin · 2 years ago

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@febuwhump Day23: "You'll have to go through me" (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky - 3015 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, shower masturbation, betrayal, violence, whump

Part SIX of 'Til the End of the Line

The first time Bucky sees him again is when he's out for an early morning run with Steve - he usually sticks to jogging in the evenings when there's less people to look at him but Steve's been weird lately, distant and quiet, and spending more time with him is the least Bucky can do when he's already feeling so horrible and guilty for watching the videos.

For saving them and listening to them over and over.

READ ON AO3 HERE: You'll Have To Go Through Me

#cara writes #febuwhump2023 #febuwhump day23 #bucky tag #steve rogers tag #guess who's not tagging stucky #it's me #winterbones #winter soldier tag #rumlow tag #past rape/non con #past abuse #this is not stucky endgame #aaaaaand we're caught up again!

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serena-ish · 11 months ago

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Bloodweave fic I've been working on. Please note the trigger warning prior to each chapter❤️

#bloodweave #astarion x gale #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #bg3 #hurt/comfort #tw; past rape/non-con #tw; cazador #tw; blood

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sapphireginger · 1 year ago

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Peter & the Sunflower: Chapter #1 | 1900 - London, England

Summary:

Little Panteleimon slowly sat up and stretched, his ruby red and obsidian black wings unfurling much like the petals of the Helianthus had. His chestnut brown hair, shimmered with obsidian and ruby sparks and his eyes faded from their pre-birth obsidian to a warm amber color, one akin to melted gold and liquid honey. His body was bare, his height no taller than that of a mouse on its hind legs and he bore no shame or self consciousness for his nakedness. His skin was cream colored, like milk mixed with drops of the sun itself and from head to toe he was adorned with a smattering of light brown spots, known as moles or freckles to most that looked as though they had been painstakingly placed one by one.

AO3 Link

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Self-Harm

1900 — London, England

In the early hours of the year 1900, just as spring began to fade into summer, a Helianthus, more commonly known as a sunflower, began to unfurl. Its long petals, golden and bright in the sunlight, were ready to reveal their precious cargo, worth more than any jewel or wealth known to man, woman or beast.

Helianthus Fields was a valley of flora just south of the grand city of London, England. It was a valley that stretched as far as the eye could see, especially if you were standing at the crest of the hill to the north of its center. Many knew of the field but very few, almost none, would ever be able to find the grove within the valley where this brand new Helianthus, this brand new sunflower, was blooming. It was a sacred grove, one that housed, one that possessed many secrets and protected its inhabitants.

That day, May 7th of 1900, just after the turn of the century, as the Helianthus fully stretched its petals, a small being got its first glimpse of the world. This little being was known as a Sióg, or a Fá. In the tongue of those that dwelled in London, the species was known as the fae or fairy.

Now, these weren’t fairies like those in fairy tales or legends so much as those stories were the ones that had been told by the Siógs themselves to lead the focus away from their people. They were a private and secret race of supernatural beings, and it was imperative that no one ever learned of the truth behind their existence.

The little Sióg born that evening just as the moon took its place amongst the stars, was named Panteleimon. He was known as a hatchling Sióg as that was what they called the newest members of their clan.

Panteleimon’s lithe little body was smooth. The only hair he possessed was that which covered his head, and he was, in a word, breathtaking. There was a reason many did not know about the existence of Siógs and one of them was the allure they held, their beauty far beyond mortal comprehension or witness.

Ready to take a look at the world for the first time, and ready to meet his fellow hatchlings, Panteleimon quickly stood on the Helianthus’s center and peeked to his left. What he saw, what he scented, quickly stole the fresh pink flush from his cheeks, dampened the fire of life in his chest, and stole his strength to remain standing. He collapsed, dropping to his knees as he began to sob.

As far as the eye could see, which was pretty far for a Sióg like him, there was nothing but ash, smoke and the overwhelming scent of death. The only color that remained in the valley was the lone Helianthus that Pan had just hatched from mere minutes before. Though he could see the golden petals of the Helianthus, it somehow seemed muted when cast alongside the gray, black and barren landscape.

He shut his eyes, his small body shaking with agony, grief and horror. His small fingers gripped the Disc florets, tightly, praying to the goddess that it was all a nightmare, that he would wake up and see his parents, and his fellow Sióg hatchlings. Alas, when he opened his eyes, the scene had not changed, and he could not help the drooping of his wings or the way their shine began to dull.

Pan remembered the sounds of his parents laughing as he grew closer to his hatching day. They sounded so happy, and he couldn't wait to meet them. He loved hearing their voices and could so clearly recall them even now. They would talk to him every day and he remembered listening to every word even if he didn’t yet understand what they were saying. He remembered the sound of their voices, his mother’s soft cooing and his father’s protective cadence and then he remembered the silence.

At the time, he did not know why they were silent but now he knew, now he understood, for when he hatched from his sunflower, he saw the husks of a thousand flora that never bloomed. Those husks, thousands of them, husks that had held other Sióg hatchlings, were nothing but ash now. The destruction nearly eradicated an entire species and only one sole Helianthus survived the flames. As Panteleimon shed his tears of pain and grief he saw how the charred remains of the other Helianthus blossoms had become tombs for the other small Siógs, his brothers, his sisters, his friends, his family, all now nothing but ash and dust. He ached and part of him wanted to fade away to ashes and dust himself. His wings began to dull as he considered his pale skin and the crimson waves beneath it. Siógs had claws, thin and needle like, that he could use. It would be quick and then he’d be with his family, his friends, his brothers and sisters, with his kin again.

The lack of support, lack of fellow hatchlings was why Pantelimon was so much weaker. Siógs were not meant to be alone after their birth. The new hatchlings were supposed to group together and only break off when they felt a pull toward their new home. Death sounded like freedom, but he didn’t think he could actually do such a thing. It would be dishonorable and cowardly. It was just that now, Panteleimon didn’t know what would become of him, nor what his fate would be. Siógs weren’t meant to live in isolation or solitude, but what choice did he have?

✨ 🍃 🌻 🍃 ✨

It took nearly a fortnight for him to gather enough strength to start his journey. He couldn’t stay no matter how much he wished he could. As soon as he was able to stand, he tried to fly and when he finally began to hover, he began his search for a forever home. Ever since rising high above the Helianthus field, his wings fluttering and buzzing faster than a hummingbird’s wings, he had tried to feel the goddesses’s magic, praying that it would guide him to his new home. His search lasted much too long, using too much of his strength but he pressed on. He could rest later and without knowing whether or not the world held other Siógs out there, he realized he may very well be the last of his kind. He had to find someplace safe to call home, someplace he would be safe.

As the week grew to a close, the crisp midnight air, chilling his unnaturally cool body, he was almost numb with exhaustion, hunger and his energy was nearly depleted. His eyes began to droop by the time he came to the first star to the right. His light was nearly snuffed out, his wings barely shimmering or fluttering anymore as the magic used up the last of its reserve.

If a Sióg’s laughter was like bells, then their cries were like a snare drum bang, though softer coming from such a small being. Panteleimon didn’t want to die. He hadn’t truly lived yet. Still, amber eyes were drifting shut as his wings stilled and he began to fall. Perhaps, it was meant to be this way, for him to try and to fail. Perhaps the goddess had deemed it time for the Sióg species to end. Why Panteleimon alone survived, he did not know but he surrendered to the endless sleep and welcomed death with open arms.

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the-delta-42 · 2 years ago

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Firsts Part 3: Fight

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Firsts Part 3: Fight

Kenley hummed as she scribbled on a piece of paper, Jamie splattered paint onto a table and AJ stared out the window.

“AJ,” Said Sarita, crouching next to him, “is everything alright?”

“Clem’s angry.” Mumbled AJ, “Mommy said that Clem’s birth parents wanted her.”

Sarita frowned, she’d heard about Clementine’s birth parents in passing from Kenny and, sometimes, Clementine herself. She looked up and spotted Molly and Christa talking to each other, Sarita turned her eyes back to AJ.

“How about you draw something for her to make her feel better?” Suggested Sarita, as she gently led AJ to the table.

Clementine stalked around the room, the rest of her friend group watching her. She hadn’t told them about her ‘parents’ phone call. Duck frowned as he watched Clementine pace.

“I’ve never seen Clem this angry.”

Sarah hummed, frowning as Clementine threw a rock-melting glare at the door. Gabe sighed through his nose, before getting up and walking over to Clementine.

“Hey, Clem.” Said Gabe, making Clementine stop and look up at him, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Scoffed Clementine, through gritted teeth, “everything’s perfect.”

“No, it isn’t.” Stated Gabe, frowning, “You’re angry at something, and you’re bottling it up.”

“So?” Demanded Clementine, fixing him with a glare, “What’s it to you?”

“I’m worried about you,” Said Gabe, “you’ve been glaring at everything in front of you.”

“As if anyone actually cares.” Scoffed Clementine, turning away from him, “You all say you care, that you’ll always be around, but you all swan off and fucking leave.”

“Really?” Snapped Gabe, glaring at Clementine.

“Yeah.” Snarled Clementine, her face getting red, “But, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve practically lived with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You still have your parents.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“You never had to worry about anyone dropping you and leaving you behind.”

“I lost my mom.”

“Yeah, and the replacement ran off with your uncle, how long do you think the thing with Ava will last?”

“You know what, I can see why your parents abandoned you.” Snapped Gabe, making Clementine physically flinch.

Clementine breathed heavily, before spinning on her heel and running out of the room.

“Great job.” Snarked Becca, chasing after Clementine, with Duck following her.

“Do you want me to tell you what went wrong, or do you want to figure it out for yourself?” Asked Gill, as Sarah, chewed on her bottom lip.

Gabe huffed, before following after Becca and Duck.

Clementine’s leg and chest burned. She’d used the gun that bad man had used on her parents. He’d kept her with him for two weeks. Clementine came to a sudden halt when she tripped over something. She looked back, and saw a strange looking lump, she let out a scream when it stood up.

A scruffy looking, old man rubbed the back of his head and looked around, confused, before spotting Clementine.

“Howdy.” Greeted the man, waving and Clementine, before she pointed the bad man’s gun at him, “Okay, not how I expected to wake up. What’s your name, darlin’?”

Clementine’s hands shook, she said nothing.

“My name’s Chuck,” Said Chuck, before pausing, “Charles if you’re fancy.”

Clementine swallowed, her eyes burned, and she dropped the gun. Chuck watched her as she dissolved into tears, before gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, hey,” Murmured Chuck, gently. He frowned as the little girl blubbered out something about being hungry and tired and cold and that she wanted her parents. Chuck sighed through his nose, before looking at a tin in his sleeping bag. The girl gripped his hand, making him sigh again, “Well, it ain’t clean, but you can have this.”

Chuck took his coat off and draped it over her shoulders. He gently guided her to his sleeping bag and he grabbed his tin and let her lie down. Within seconds, she was asleep. Keeping an eye on her, Chuck walked up to a nearby payphone.

After putting in 9-1-1, he spoke, “Hey, I have a little girl who wandered into me carrying a gun, she looks like she’s been abused.”

Chuck was quiet as the dispatcher spoke.

“I’m on Augusta Avenue, no, I won’t go anywhere.” Chuck hung up the phone. He watched over the girl until the police officer arrived.

Chuck was jerked from his memories, when a young woman tripped over his bag. He frowned, she was clearly upset, but she looked familiar.

“Howdy.” Greeted Chuck, making the woman freeze.

After hastily wiping her eyes, she looked at him, “Chuck?”

Chuck squinting at her, before recognising her, “Clementine?”

The two stared at each other, before Clementine threw her arms around him.

“Clementine!” Yelled someone, Chuck looked over and spotted a tall man and an average height woman running up to them. The man slowed down, before frowning at him, “Chuck?”

“You’re in better spirits.” Said Chuck, smiling up at Duck.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Laughed Becca, as Duck’s face went red, “She managed to get you to eat a beetle?”

Chuck chuckled as Duck spluttered out an excuse. He’d learnt that Clementine had ran all the way from a friends house on the other side of town after a fight with her boyfriend. He’d decided to walk them back to said friend’s house, entertaining them with stories of his travels and the last few times he saw Duck and Clementine.

“You doin’ alright?” Asked Chuck, glancing at Clementine.

“I’m fine.” Muttered Clementine, looking at the ground.

“I might not know much about this fight you had,” Said Chuck, looking a head of them, “but bottling it up, it ain’t goin’ to make your relationship last long.”

“If I tell him, he’ll want nothing to do with me.” Murmured Clementine, carefully making sure that Duck and Becca couldn’t hear her.

“Then that’s his problem.” Said Chuck, bluntly, “If he can’t accept you for who you are, then he ain’t worth your time.”

Clementine swallowed, and nodded. She looked up and searched of a sign that had the street name written on it. She mentally noted that they were near Gabe’s home.

“I,” Clementine swallowed, as Duck and Becca turn back to look at her, “I’m going to talk to Gabe.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” Asked Duck, frowning at her.

“No, I, I need to do this alone.” Declined Clementine, before taking a deep breath and walking towards Gabe’s house.

“Good luck.” Said Chuck, before he turned around, “I should’ve come to this side of town sooner, they have a shelter.”

Clementine swallowed nervously, as she knocked on the front door of Gabe’s home. She heard a pair of feet rushing towards the door, before it was flung open and Gabe stared at her. Before she could open her mouth, Gabe grabbed her arms and pulled her close to him.

“I’m sorry.” Mumbled Gabe, into the top of Clementine’s head, “I shouldn’t’ve said that, I’m so sorry.”

Clementine swallowed, “We, er, we need to talk about something, privately.”

Gabe frowned and swallowed, before he led her up to his room. After closing the door and looking at Clementine, “Is it about the fight?”

“Kinda,” Clementine winced and swallowed, “You, you know that my birth parents abandoned me on the side of the freeway and I was hit by a car, right? I was four, almost five at the time, and a couple of months after they abandoned me, I was fostered by a couple, their names were Lee and Carley. I was with them for two years, be-before,” Clementine swallowed thickly, “before some stranger forced his way in and killed them in front of me.”

Gabe swallowed, as Clementine continued, “He, he shot Carley and slit Lee throat. T-those dark patches on my hat… those, those are from Lee and Carley. I, I haven’t washed it because it’s the last thing I have to them a-and,” Gabe reached out and grabbed Clementine’s hand, “i-if those are gone, t-then it’ll be like I lose them all over again.”

“It’s okay.” Murmured Gabe, moving close to Clementine.

Clementine sniffled and wiped at her eyes, “A-after that stranger took me, he, he would beat, starve a-and touch me, for t-two weeks. I was seven and I was raped by some sick fuck.” Clementine took a deep breath, “I-I m-managed t-to t-take his gun from his bag. I shot him.”

“You mean, like, through the legs?” Asked Gabe, making Clementine shake her head.

“As, as in, through the head.” Clementine stared at the floor, “I ran out of the place he was keeping me and I just ran, Kenny thought I must’ve run the length of Savannah, before I tripped over Chuck. He’s a homeless guy that helped me get back to Kenny.”

Gabe nodded and wrapped an arm around her.

“T-then Katjaa committed suicide and I was place with Omid and Christa, they gave me up after a couple of months, I-I don’t know the specifics. I got placed with Mom and Dad for the first time, I, I was a terror to them, I stole their car and crashed it into a tree and got hit by another car while trying to get away from the wreck.”

Gabe tightened his grip of Clementine, “I was then placed with a couple, called Leland and Dee, I was with them for three weeks, before I was abandoned again. I then went to Lilly and Mark, at the start they were great, it was like we were almost a family and I fucked it up by asking them to take me to see a nearby dairy farm.”

“You, you mean the St. John cannibals?” Asked Gabe, getting a nod from Clementine.

“They, they killed Mark and fed him to us, Larry, Lilly’s dad, had a heart attack and Lilly tried to kill me, she’s the reason I only have half a finger on my right hand. I was beaten, starved and raped, again. Then Daryl found me, he came looking for a friend of his, he had a police officer with him. I don’t know what they did, but they rescued me from them. I was with Daryl for three weeks, before he was forced to return me to social care because he didn’t have a job. I then was placed with Daryl’s friend, Rick. He returned me to social care because he was moving and was divorcing his wife.”

“I think I’ve met him.” Murmured Gabe, pulling Clementine close to him.

“I was placed with Jane, who abandoned me during that dog incident,” Clementine forced herself to speak, “I was then handed over to a guy named Troy, I was beaten, starved, shot, stabbed, raped and forced to test drugs for him and his group.”

“How were you placed with him?” Asked Gabe, staring down at Clementine, who shrugged.

“Troy’s got nothing on Carver,�� Warned Clementine, her throat tight, “He did all the things that Troy did, I saw him cave a guy’s head in, Wyatt I think his name was, with a salt lick. He had me hauling car parts and all that shit. When I was with Daryl, he had me start building my strength up, he’s the one that introduced me to Ava. I kept in contact with her while I was being thrown around by Troy and Carver. I tried to get away from Carver by stealing his truck. I ran him over and called Ava, a couple months later and I was back with Mom and Dad.”

Clementine worriedly gazed up at Gabe, before he pulled her into a tight hug.

“You’re, you’re not angry or, or disgusted?” Asked Clementine, after Gabe pulled away.

“I am at them, not you.” Said Gabe, quietly, “You’re strong, you survived all that. I guess that’s why I love you.”

“W-what?”

“I love you, Clementine.” Repeated Gabe, “It’d take a lot more to change that.”

Clementine gave a wobbly smile. The two rested their foreheads together, before Gabe spoke, “Not to, erm, not to seem rude or anything, but why are you telling me all this?”

“If I didn’t now, I probably never would.” Answered Clementine, before glancing to the side, “Last week, Mom and Dad received a phone call. They, they said they were my birth parents.”

Gabe swallowed, “Oh shit.”

Rebecca looked at her phone after it pinged, she’d received a text from Clementine.

Staying over @ Gabe’s.

Rebecca frowned, before looking back at email Bonnie had sent her. A list of lawyers that could take on the Marshes, should they try and legally attempt to get custody of Clementine. She’d been with them for nearly six years, they weren’t going to give her up.

Rebecca eyed a name on the list, she and Alvin would make an appointment to speak with Ms. Hawthorn next week.

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16woodsequ · 2 years ago

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#fanfiction #fanfic #tw rape/non con #all in the past #non-explicit #cw a/b/o

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comment-exchange · 2 months ago

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370. Tryst (Justice League International)

Title: Tryst

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58238431/chapters/148303597

Creator: SLWalker

Work Type: Fanfiction

Fandom: Justice League International

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Michael Carter/Guy Gardner

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: Past Rape/Non-con of a minor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, traumatic flashbacks, Angst, Blood, Implied/Referenced Suicide (please read the AO3 tags carefully)

Number of comments: 4

Completion Status: complete

Short summary/description: Booster and Guy are both kind of broken. Might as well be broken together.

#submission #ff #JLI #2k #4c #complete #multi chapter #TW: Past Rape/Non-con of a minor #TW: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD #TW: traumatic flashbacks #TW: Blood #TW: Implied/Referenced Suicide #SLWalker #fanfiction #Justice League International #Michael Carter/Guy Gardner

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fangdokja · 18 days ago

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🔞You’re his project, and he’s determined to get you right.

❤︎ Synopsis. A quiet genius watches from the shadows, studying every detail of your life with obsessive precision—until one night, his fixation turns darker, and you become the subject of his twisted, unrelenting experiment. In his world, nothing is left to chance, and you’re the only variable he can’t control.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Nerd x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanon. Beyond the Data - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,132

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, rape, BDSM, somnophilia, drugging, stalking, forced oral, invasion of privacy, non-con photography and filming, intoxication kink, dumbification, slapping, degradation, humiliation, forced penetration, forced anal, name calling, slut shaming

♡ His Story. No one else noticed the quiet boy in the corner, but he’s all you’ll notice now.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who is the last person you’d expect to command fear—or obsession. The invisible boy in the corner of the lecture hall, whose name you can never seem to remember. Just another cog in the academic machine, unnoticed and unremarkable.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who didn’t always hate you. At first, he didn’t even notice you. Why would he? You were a speck in his meticulously ordered world of formulas and research papers. He’d glance over you like a book’s preface—skimming, dismissive, uninterested. You weren’t worth his attention, and he wasn’t one for distractions.

Until you were.

♡ Yandere! Nerd whose hatred began with quiet disdain. He couldn’t stand the way you disrupted the sanctity of his intellectual space. Your kindness was a flaw, a weak and irritating crack in the facade of academia. The way you lent your notes to struggling classmates, stayed late to tutor those who would never return the favor.

“Naïve,” he muttered once under his breath, watching you push a stack of papers toward a crying peer. “They’re just using you.”

But you didn’t care. You never did.

♡ Yandere! Nerd whose resentment festered in the shadows. Watching your muted empathy, your small, unnoticed acts of kindness, twisted his stomach in ways he couldn’t understand. You were supposed to fail. You were supposed to get crushed beneath the weight of your own optimism, yet you didn’t.

And that infuriated him.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who told himself he hated you because you were soft, too forgiving, too simple. But the truth was far darker. You represented something he’d never had—a warmth that lingered in the spaces between your quiet gestures. A kindness that was not weakness, but strength. You had no armor, and yet you thrived.

It fascinated him. It enraged him.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who lived a life of quiet detachment. He wasn’t bullied in school—no, he was too invisible for that. Teachers praised his brilliance, but no one remembered his name. His height, his looming presence, the stretch of taut muscle beneath oversized sweaters—they didn’t matter when he kept to himself, a ghost haunting the edges of the classroom.

Invisibility was his refuge, and he sharpened his mind in its silence.

♡ Yandere! Nerd whose physical strength was a quiet secret. Long hours spent weightlifting in the dim light of the university gym weren’t for vanity—they were an escape, a distraction, a way to channel the dark energy gnawing at him. But he never cared about the results.

The thick-framed glasses, the slouching posture, the ill-fitting cardigans—these were his camouflage. No one saw him. No one looked past the surface.

Except you.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who begins his descent like any good scientist—methodically. It starts as observation, the kind you’d expect from someone who’s spent his life reducing the world into formulas and equations. You are a variable, an anomaly, something he must decode to restore order to his meticulously organized life.

But the more he observes, the less he understands. And the more it drives him mad.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who tells himself it’s harmless at first. Watching you from across the library, tracking the soft scratch of your pen as it glides over your notebook. He doesn’t even realize he’s memorized the way your eyebrows knit together in concentration, or how you chew the corner of your lip when you’re stuck on a problem.

It’s data. Just data.

But the data begins to haunt him.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who begins cataloging you like a research subject. He keeps a notebook tucked into the bottom drawer of his desk, hidden beneath a pile of unfinished assignments. Every detail about you goes into it: the time you arrive at class (always ten minutes early), the number of steps you take to reach your favorite seat, the precise way the sunlight catches your hair at 3:17 p.m. on the third floor of the library.

He calls it fieldwork to justify the growing obsession.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who found himself lingering at the edges of your world, desperate for scraps. The smell of your shampoo as you walked past. The faint imprint of your handwriting left on discarded papers.

You didn’t notice the way his hands flexed when you leaned too close to another classmate, or the way his jaw clenched when someone touched your arm.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who is painfully aware of how wrong it is. He’s not stupid. He knows that following you home, counting the number of locks on your door, isn’t something a sane person does. But logic isn’t enough to stop him.

You’re a virus in his brain, disrupting his calculations, infecting his thoughts with something he doesn’t know how to purge. You grate on him in all the wrong ways, the way a scratch disrupts a perfect vinyl record. He hates you for it. He hates you because he can’t stop.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who turns his obsession into an experiment. He programs an algorithm to track your social media activity, compiling your posts, photos, and even deleted comments into a neat timeline. He bookmarks the articles you share, cataloging your interests, your values, your humor.

It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who upgrades his methods when simple observation no longer satisfies. He rigs a tiny camera outside the lecture hall, angled perfectly to catch the way you sit, the absent way you tap your foot when you’re bored. He sets up a recording app on his phone to capture the sound of your voice in class discussions, replaying it later as though decoding a foreign language.

He tells himself it’s for research. He just needs to understand you.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who learns your patterns better than you know them yourself. He can predict where you’ll be at any given time—your favorite coffee shop at 8:43 a.m., the library desk in the northeast corner by 6:12 p.m., your solitary walks through the park on Sunday mornings.

He times his own movements to yours, ensuring you never notice his presence, never feel the weight of his gaze. It’s a game to him now—a test of his own skill.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who hacks into your student profile. It’s easy, really, a puzzle too simple to satisfy his intellect. But he doesn’t do it for the challenge; he does it to see your schedule, your grades, the tiny notes professors leave about you.

“Exceptional work ethic,” one professor writes, and he feels a strange swell of pride, as though your achievements are his own.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who begins collecting physical traces of you. A pen you leave behind in class, its cap chewed and frayed. A receipt from the coffee shop, crumpled and discarded. A strand of hair caught in the strap of your backpack.

Each item is cataloged and stored in a small box beneath his bed, a grotesque shrine to the person you’ll never realize he’s built.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who upgrades his “research” to something darker. He creates a fake identity to join your online study group, posing as a fellow student struggling with the material. It gives him access to your unfiltered thoughts, your casual messages and inside jokes.

The first time you reply to his fake account with a laughing emoji, his heart races. He hates himself for it, for the pathetic thrill it gives him, but he keeps going.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who hated you because you didn’t need him. You were brilliant in your own quiet way, a top student who never flaunted your achievements. You had what he lacked: empathy. Warmth. The ability to be seen without being scrutinized.

But the more he learns, the more he realizes something crucial:

He doesn’t want to study you anymore. He wants to control you.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who justifies it all as self-preservation. You’re the one invading his mind, disrupting his focus, ruining his carefully constructed life. If he could just fix you—if he could break you down into something manageable, something his mind could dominate—then he’d finally have peace.

But until then, he’ll keep collecting his data, keep tightening the web around you. Because in his world, nothing is left unresolved.

And you, his most maddening equation, will not be the exception.

———

♡ Yandere! Nerd who loathes admitting weakness—especially emotions as primal and irrational as jealousy. To him, emotions are nothing but noise, disrupting the signal of his perfectly calibrated mind. But when he sees you with the student council president, laughing, leaning close, sharing those little stolen moments, that noise becomes deafening.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who bristles at the mere sight of him. The president, all polished charm and perfect manners, standing too close to you, lingering too long in your orbit. It’s infuriating how you light up around him, your shy, carefully guarded smiles breaking into easy laughter. It’s infuriating how he can’t simply classify this feeling as irrational anger.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who watches the subtle chemistry between you and the president unfold like a slow-motion car crash. The president’s hand brushing yours as he passes you a folder. The way he leans in slightly when you speak, as though hanging on your every word. And worst of all, the way you don’t pull away.

♡ Yandere! Nerd whose jealousy turns into something darker when he overhears the president call you “special.”

It’s a simple word, tossed casually into a conversation, but it ignites a fire in his chest that he can’t put out. Special? You’re special to him? No, that’s wrong. That’s his word for you, even if he’s never dared to say it out loud.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who recognizes his jealousy with clinical detachment. He hates you for making him feel this way—off-kilter, vulnerable, human. He hates the president even more for daring to tread on what’s his, for invading the carefully cultivated space he’s built around you.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who tells himself it’s not jealousy—it’s concern. He’s only protecting you from someone who might not have your best interests at heart. After all, the president isn’t as perfect as he seems. He’s seen the cracks in that polished facade, the weaknesses he could exploit if necessary.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who begins to sabotage the president in small, insidious ways. A corrupted file here, a misplaced document there. Minor inconveniences that disrupt the president’s perfect image, planting seeds of doubt in those around him.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who knows this isn’t sustainable. The jealousy, the hatred, the dark fantasies that creep into his mind every time he sees you with the president—it’s all spiraling out of control. He needs to act, to take back the control that’s slipping through his fingers.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who tells himself he doesn’t need you to love him back. He just needs to remove the variables—the distractions, the threats.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who begins plotting his next move with the cold, calculating precision of a scientist. Because if he can’t have you, no one else will.

———

♡ Yandere! Nerd finally went through with his main plan, a way to make you see him, to make you need him. He pulled out a small vial of clear liquid, his heart racing as he approached you. "Tonight," he murmured to himself, "I'll finally get what I deserve."

With meticulous care, he mixed the potent sleeping agent into the cup of drink you'd left on your nightstand. It was your favorite. He knew it was your go-to drink for winding down after a long day.

As your eyelids grew heavy and your breathing deepened, he approached you, his steps silent on the plush carpet. He set the drugged tea aside and gently lifted your limp body, placing you in the center of the bed. He couldn't help but admire you, the way you looked so innocent, so vulnerable.

It was intoxicating, and he felt a perverse sense of satisfaction knowing he was about to shatter that purity.

♡ Yandere! Nerd undressed you with trembling hands, his eyes greedily taking in every curve and line of your body. You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent under your breath, but the drugs held firm. He took his time, savoring each moment as he stripped away your layers of clothing. When you were bare, he stepped back to appreciate his handiwork, his erection straining against his pants. He felt like a sculptor revealing a masterpiece hidden beneath a layer of marble.

With a predatory smile, he unbuckled his belt and stepped closer to the bed. He leaned over you, his breath hot against your neck. "Do you know how much I've wanted this?" he whispered, his voice thick with lust. You murmured something indistinct, lost in the fog of the drugs. "No," he chuckled, "you don't. But you will."

♡ Yandere! Nerd grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. His teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that you couldn't control. You whimpered, a sound that only served to excite him further. He didn't need your consent—not really. You were his to use, to break, to shape into the perfect specimen. His hands roamed over your body, leaving bruises in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin. Each touch was a declaration of ownership, a promise of what was to come.

He positioned himself between your legs, his eyes glittering with a dark excitement as he took in your unconscious form. His hands, rough and calloused from countless hours in the gym and lab, caressed your inner thighs, spreading them apart with a gentle cruelty.

You were his now, a blank canvas for his twisted desires. He didn't bother with foreplay; your pleasure was inconsequential. It was all about the thrill of taking what he wanted.

With a grunt, he plunged into you, his thick cock stretching your sleep-loosened pussy. You gasped, a sound that was half-moan, half-whimper, as he filled you completely.

♡ Yandere! Nerd didn't bother to hold back, his hips slamming into yours with the precision of a machine. You were just a receptacle for his lust, a means to an end. Each thrust was a declaration of dominance, a silent claim that you belonged to him and him alone.

As he fucked you, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear—degrading names that made your skin crawl.

"Dumb fucking slut," he murmured, his voice a dark symphony that seemed to echo in the quiet room. "You're mine now. No one else will ever touch you like this." His words were a blend of anger and adoration, a twisted love letter to the girl who'd unwittingly captured his attention.

Your body responded despite the haze of the drugs. You arched your back, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming even through the fog. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, but your body was his plaything, reacting on instinct alone.

♡ Yandere! Nerd noticed your involuntary movements and smirked, his strokes becoming more deliberate, more punishing.

"That's it," he cooed, his breath hot against your skin. "You love it, don't you? Being used like a cheap slut."

As he pounded into you, he reached for his phone, the screen casting a harsh blue light across the room.

♡ Yandere! Nerd began to record, capturing every moan and whimper, every tear that slipped from your closed eyes. He'd study this footage later, memorize your reactions, learn what made you squirm and beg.

It was all for science, for understanding. But deep down, he knew it was more than that—it was about power.

Your legs trembled around him, a silent plea for mercy that went unheard. You were lost in the haze of the drugs, unable to form coherent thoughts. The only reality was the relentless pressure building inside you, the way his cock filled and emptied you with a rhythm that seemed to echo through your soul. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, a nightmare wrapped in the guise of pleasure.

♡ Yandere! Nerd reached down and pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he watched your face contort with pain.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. You tried to focus on him through the fog, your glazed eyes fluttering open to meet his. He was so close, his face a twisted mask of desire and something else—something darker.

"You're mine," he said again, his voice a hiss in the quiet room. "You're mine to fuck, to use, to break."

♡ Yandere! Nerd grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his as he continued to fuck you with a ferocity that seemed to come from a place beyond obsession. His hand was slick with the sweat that coated your body, his grip tight as he held you in place.

The camera's cold eye recorded everything, the unblinking gaze of his twisted love. He leaned in closer, his breath hot on your face as he whispered, "Look at how much I own you, bitch."

Your eyes rolled back in your head, a silent protest to the waves of pain and pleasure that crashed over you. His other hand reached down to rub at your clit, his movements rough and unyielding.

♡ Yandere! Nerd watched with clinical interest as your body responded, his own pleasure mounting with each twitch and jerk of your hips.

"You're going to cum for me," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to cum and show me how much you love being used."

You feel his hand leave your chin, instead wrapping around your throat, squeezing just tight enough to cut off your air, but not enough to cause you to pass out. His eyes bore into yours, demanding your full attention. your vision swims, and your breath hitches as he continues to thrust into you.

His other hand is still on your clit, the harsh strokes matching the rhythm of his hips. Each time you're about to slip away into unconsciousness, he loosens his grip slightly, allowing you to gasp for breath. The mix of oxygen deprivation and intense pleasure is a heady cocktail, making your body respond in ways you never knew it could.

The drugs he'd administered had reached their peak effectiveness, plunging you into a state of absolute vulnerability.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, and your body went slack as he continued his brutal assault, his cock hammering into your swollen, abused pussy with a merciless rhythm. Each thrust sent waves of agony crashing through you, but your mind was too far gone to process it as anything other than a distant sensation.

You were nothing more than a ragdoll in his grip, a toy for his sadistic pleasure.

♡ Yandere! Nerd whispers lowly, "You're so fucking beautiful like this," his voice thick with lust as he watched your body spasm beneath him.

"So dumb and helpless. It's like you're begging for it." He leaned in, his teeth grazing your ear as he spoke, his breath hot and moist.

"You love this, don't you, bitch? Being fucked by someone who sees through all your bullshit?" His hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your air once again.

Your body succumbs to the overwhelming stimulation, a series of intense orgasms rip through you, one after the other. You're too high and too intoxicated to fully understand what's happening, but the raw pleasure is undeniable.

You feel like a marionette with cut strings, your body responding to his touch without thought or resistance.

Each time you climax, a strangled gasp escapes your throat, your eyes rolling back in your head as your back arches off the bed.

♡ Yandere! Nerd watches with a mix of triumph and fascination, his own pleasure building as he takes in your complete and utter surrender.

"Good girl," he murmurs, the praise sticking in your throat like a knife. "Take it all for me." His strokes become more erratic as his own orgasm approaches, his breath hitching in his chest.

The hand around your throat tightens, the pressure increasing until your vision starts to fade. Just when you think you can't handle anymore, he slams into you one last time, his body stiffening as he cums deep inside you. He holds you there, his cock pulsing, his grip on your throat unyielding until he's drained himself completely.

With a sick sense of satisfaction, he watches the last twitches of your body as the drugs overtake you fully.

♡ Yandere! Nerd withdraws his cock, already planning the next round of his twisted experiment. His eyes rake over your limp form, noticing the way your breasts rise and fall with each shallow breath, the way your pussy glistens with his cum and your own juices.

He can't resist the urge to touch you, to play with his new toy, so he starts snapping pictures and recording videos, capturing every inch of your exposed flesh from various angles.

♡ Yandere! Nerd positions your unresponsive body into various degrading poses, each one more obscene than the last.

The camera clicks away, capturing every angle as he spreads your legs wide and fills your pussy with his cum. His eyes never leave the viewfinder as he watches the white fluid ooze out of you, painting your thighs and stomach with his ownership.

He's methodical in his approach, treating you like a living, breathing doll. With each picture and video taken, his arousal builds, his cock swelling and pulsing with the need to claim you again.

"Wake up," he whispers, his voice a dark promise.

♡ Yandere! Nerd slaps your cheek harshly, leaving a vivid red handprint, before he waits for any sign of consciousness. When you don't respond, he sighs and shakes his head.

"Too much, huh?" He reaches down and slaps you again, this time harder. "You're going to learn to wake up for me." His hand travels down to your clit, giving it a cruel pinch that makes your body jerk despite your unconscious state.

With your unconscious body still splayed out before him, the his hunger is far from satisfied. He takes a moment to appreciate the scene, his cock standing erect and gleaming with lust.

♡ Yandere! Nerd shifts you onto your stomach, the soft curves of your ass begging for his attention. He lines himself up with your wet, puckered hole and slams into you without warning, the sound of his hips slapping against your flesh echoing through the room.

He groans in pleasure as he feels the tightness of your ass clench around him, the drugs in your system making you even more pliable and responsive than usual.

"You're going to love this," he murmurs, his voice low and menacing as he starts to fuck you roughly. Each thrust is punctuated by a smack to your ass, the sound of his hand connecting with your flesh filling the room.

You whimper in your sleep, the pain and pleasure mixing together in your hazy mind. He reaches around to play with your clit, his rough fingers bringing you closer to the edge of consciousness with each pass. "You're so tight," he grunts, his teeth gritted with effort. "So fucking tight."

♡ Yandere! Nerd flips you over again, your limp body now lying on your back, your legs hanging over the edge of the bed. He takes a moment to capture the perfect shot of your exposed pussy, the way your swollen lips are parted and dripping with cum and your own arousal. He's in no rush; he's got all night.

For hours, he treats your body like a fuck-toy, his cock sliding in and out of you in a series of depraved positions that he's been dreaming about for so long.

The camera captures everything—the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, the arch of your back as he takes you from behind, the way your eyes roll back in your head even in your drug-induced slumber.

♡ Yandere! Nerd continues to whisper degrading names in your ear, calling you his little fuckdoll, his rape toy, his property. His hand tightens around your neck, his other hand playing with your clit, your body responding to his touch despite your lack of consciousness.

♡ Yandere! Nerd takes you in every conceivable way, his cock a blur as he snaps photos and records videos for his twisted collection. He loves the way your body reacts to him, the way your pussy clenches around him when you're on the brink of an involuntary orgasm.

It's like watching a science experiment unfold before his very eyes, a symphony of pain and pleasure that he's orchestrated to perfection.

And the best part? You'll never remember a thing.

"Mm, you're so obedient when you're like this," he says, his voice thick with lust as he pulls out of your ass and flips you onto your stomach again.

♡ Yandere! Nerd spreads your cheeks wide, his cock sliding through your folds as his hand grips your mouth. "Open up, bitch. Time to swallow your medicine."

With a sadistic smirk, he positions his cock at your open, drooling mouth. He's already painted your cheeks and chin with his cum, a grotesque mask of his dominance. Your eyes remain closed, lashes fluttering with the fading aftermath of your forced orgasms. He pushes the tip of his cock past your lips, watching them stretch around his girth.

♡ Yandere! Nerd films as he slams his cock down your throat, watching the way your cheeks bulge with each thrust. Your tongue is limp and unresponsive, but it doesn't matter—the sight of your mouth filled with his cum is all he needs.

He holds your head steady, pushing deeper and deeper until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag around his length. He loves the sound, the way your body fights against his intrusion even as you lie there, helpless and drugged.

"That's it," he croons, his eyes glinting with malicious pleasure. "Swallow it all for me. Show me how much of a good rape toy you can be." He keeps fucking your mouth, his hips snapping against your face with increasing ferocity. You're just a vessel for his pleasure, a receptacle for his anger and frustration.

♡ Yandere! Nerd pulls out with a wet pop, leaving your mouth gaping and coated in his seed. He takes a moment to admire the view before sliding his cock back into your pussy, groaning as he feels your wet warmth envelop him once more. He's lost in his own depraved world, the camera capturing every sickening detail of his violation.

"Look at you," he says, his voice a mix of disgust and admiration.

"You're just a mindless fuck-doll when you're like this." He fists your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of bites that you'll feel tomorrow, a constant reminder of his power over you.

"But tomorrow, you'll go back to being the perfect little student, won't you?" He bites down harder, making you whimper in your sleep. "You'll sit in class with no idea that you're mine."

His camera clicks away as he captures every depraved moment of his violation. Your unconscious moans and whimpers fill the room, a testament to his cruel touch.

♡ Yandere! Nerd records from various angles, making sure to get close-ups of your gaping mouth and the way your eyes water around his cock. His hands are rough, holding you in place as he uses your body for his own sick pleasure. The camera zooms in on your throat as he fucks your face, the veins bulging as he forces himself deeper and deeper.

He pulls out of your mouth with a wet, gagging sound, your saliva and cum dripping down your chin. He smirks at the pathetic mess you've become under his control.

Grabbing a back-up phone, he takes several more pictures of your face—your swollen, bitten lips, your tear-stained cheeks, the drool pooling around your chin. Then he moves lower, taking shots of your bruised pussy and asshole, both gaping open and leaking his cum. He zooms in on the mess he's made of you, capturing every detail with a disturbing sense of pride.

♡ Yandere! Nerd continues his sadistic play, his hand moving to your throat once more as he whispers his degrading comments into your ear. "You're nothing but a damn pornstar, aren't you?"

He leans in closer, his hot breath tickling your ear. "Look at you, trying to wake up. Don't worry, I'll make sure you won't remember a thing, prostitute."

With a chuckle, he slaps you across the face—hard enough to leave a red handprint, but not hard enough to rouse you fully. The sound echoes through the room, a stark contrast to the muffled squelches of your forced union.

———

♡ Yandere! Nerd who finally admitted it to himself in the aftermath of this night, in the suffocating silence of his apartment. It wasn’t hatred. It wasn’t admiration. It was possession. You didn’t belong in a world that appreciated you.

You belonged to him, as a dumb fuckdoll for him to use and discard as he pleases.

♡ Yandere! Nerd who never intended for it to go this far. But as he crouched over your crumpled form, his hand brushing the soft curve of your cheek, he realized there was no going back.

“Do you see me now, fuckdoll?” he murmured, his voice growling with a strange mix of triumph and obsession.

And, he was still far from done. He has all night, and more.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth

2K notes · View notes

slut4thebroken · 2 months ago

Text

Reminisce

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jackson Rippner x reader

Summary | Your boyfriend of almost nine months finally reveals something to you.

Warnings | Consensual to NON CON, smut, forced breeding, baby trapping, scars, praise, forced orgasm, crying, blackmail?, past rape, lots of talk about rape, like a lot.

Words | 1.4 k

Notes | Pretend I posted this a week before Halloween like it says in the fic lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 19: forced orgasm

Also idk this gif just reminded me of this part “he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, just barely smirking at the state he had you in.”

“Good girl… Take my fucking cock.” He gruffed, wrapping a hand around your neck, fucking you even harder. You cried out and clung to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. He was leaning over your body with your legs on his shoulders basically pushed flat against your chest, unable to do anything other than take it.

“Jackson..” You whined. Each hard thrust was punching little breaths and grunts out of you and he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, just barely smirking at the state he had you in.

“God— This reminds me so much of our first date.” He groaned, confusing you. Your first date was at a restaurant and he only kissed you after walking you to your door… You didn’t know what he was talking about and his cock ramming into you was making it really hard to think about it. He chuckled quietly when he saw your furrowed brows.

“You don’t remember? It was right here in this bed, you were dressed up as a cute little fairy for Halloween and I was wearing a mask…” He trailed off, waiting for you to finally figure it out. Your stomach dropped as you recalled what was probably the worst night of your entire life. “You looked so pretty crying and begging for me like that, I knew I had to make you mine.” He said with a small smile, sounding almost endeared.

You stared up at him in shock and horror as the small scar below your collarbone started aching at the memory. There’s no way that your boyfriend of almost nine months was the one who broke into your apartment and raped you last Halloween.

“W-what?” You said through a breath, voice barely audible. His smirk widened as he took in the terror on your face.

“I was thinking of waiting until Halloween, but I just couldn’t help myself.” He chuckled. “Plus it’s only a week away, and I figured you might shut down on the actual day.”

All you could do was stare at him, a huge wave of emotions crashing down on you. When the angle of his thrusts shifted a little and he hit that one spot inside of you, you suddenly remembered that he was still fucking you and you started pushing him away.

“Get the fuck off of me.” Any malice in your tone was completely overshadowed by fear. In response, he just grinned and squeezed your neck even harder until you gasped for air.

“You were so tight that day… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for almost a year.” He groaned, then his eyes flitted down to your chest. “And that scar… Every time I see it I remember how pretty you looked, crying and begging under me as you took my cock like a good little girl— just like you’re doing now.”

“Get off!” You yelled, the tears in your eyes beginning to fall as you thrashed under him. He shushed you and just grabbed your wrists to pin them above your head with one hand while the other moved to trace over the scar.

“You know… The first time you got all choked up when I asked about it, I had to go to the bathroom and jerk off.” He chuckled quietly, looking between your face and the scar with an almost fond expression.

“Stop!” You screamed, becoming hysterical. “Jackson, please.” When you broke out into a sob, he cursed under his breath and moaned loudly, his thrusts becoming more frantic.

“God- you were crying just like this…” He groaned, dragging his gaze all over your tear streaked face. “Only last time you weren’t about to come on my cock.” He said smugly.

You shook your head almost violently, but you could feel your orgasm still approaching, despite what you just learned.

“And, between you and me… based on how hysterical you were last year, I was worried you wouldn’t be interested in a relationship at all— let alone sex…” He said teasingly, but his voice was becoming breathless as he neared his own release. “But you surprised me.” He chuckled quietly. You could barely focus on his words with how hard you were crying, feeling completely frozen underneath him. “You were so desperate for it too. I guess that’s normal though… Something about reclaiming control over your body and what not.”

“Jackson, please stop.” You sobbed brokenly, but he wasn’t deterred at all.

“Stop? But you were just moaning like a little whore for me two minutes ago.” He said coyly.

“I hate you!” You suddenly screamed, making him laugh again.

“No. You hate yourself because you’re about to cream all over your rapist’s cock.” The hand not holding your wrists down moved to rub your clit and your crying intensified.

“Stop!” You shrieked, thrashing under him uselessly.

“Beg harder, baby… I’m close.” He moaned as his thrusts sped up. The smirk on his face that used to make you blush, made you sick to your stomach this time.

You were mumbling incoherent protests and pleas and he let his head drop down as he moaned loudly. His fingers never faltered on your clit and you could feel your unwanted orgasm rapidly approaching.

“No… No— please.” You sobbed weakly, making him look at you again.

“Do it, slut. Come on my fucking cock while I rape you again.”

You were crying almost violently now, tears streaming down your cheeks as you practically started hyperventilating. “Please..” You whimpered, squirming under him weakly. The coil of arousal in your belly wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, sending you over the edge. “No,” you sobbed and Jackson groaned as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

“Oh, good girl…” He cooed, making you cry harder. “That's it… Cream all over my dick, baby.” His usually smug tone that used to fill your stomach with butterflies, now just made you nauseous.

“Stop! Please stop, Jackson…” You sobbed brokenly, unable to hold back your moans and whimpers as his fingers continued rubbing firm circles on your clit.

His lips parted in a silent moan and his eyes closed as his head fell forward, landing on your chest. With one final grunt, he bottomed out, his cockhead pressing against your cervix uncomfortably. You whined through quiet sobs, all while Jackson moaned… savoring every last bit of your suffering.

“Fuck..” He said through a breathy laugh once his orgasm finally faded. He leaned up, taking in the sight of your glossy eyes and quivering lip, then grabbed your cheeks to hold you still, letting him kiss you. No matter how hard you tried to turn away, he was stronger. He only released you once he was completely satisfied. “Mm… good girl.” He murmured, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. You were completely frozen under him, only able to let out hiccuping sobs.

“Oh, I know, baby… I know.” He cooed, his voice overly sweet. “But you’re not gonna leave me.” You stared at him, trying to keep a brave face, but you knew he could see your fear. “Raped twice? You’re damaged goods, sweetheart. No respectable man is gonna want you now.” You let out a choked sob and closed your eyes, hearing him coo again.

“Plus…” when his voice turned a little serious, your blood ran cold in anticipation, “you’re gonna need me to stick around for our kid.”

Your lips parted and you stared at him with both confusion and fear as you trembled. “What?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Lucky me, finding a girl who’s selfish enough to make sex feel less good— all because of the ‘hormones’ and side effects of birth control.” He sneered, his voice cold but with a cruel, almost playful lilt. Then he casually added, “You should be pregnant by now. I’ve been poking holes in all the condoms for almost two weeks.”

“Jackson…” You sobbed brokenly, not even knowing how to react.

“I know, honey, but I’ll take good care of you.” He pet your hair gently, then wiped away the tears on your face. “Your boss should be getting something in the mail soon. After he fires you, you’ll finally be able to live up to your full potential. You can move in with me and only have to worry about taking care of the house and our kids, and servicing my cock. Doesn’t that sound nice?” All you could do was cry and shake your head.

“You’re gonna love it.” He smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “I promise.”

#jackson rippner x reader smut #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner #cillian murphy #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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venusbyline · 3 months ago

Text

Fates ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 22, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: spit kink

— summary: Jacaerys Velaryon had become the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and you had become his Queen Consort. Grief, sacrifice and pain carried the weight of crowns. The daily tragedies would happen forever until one of you died. This was the true destiny of the Greens and Blacks. There were never victors after the war. The eternal unhappiness was the only conquest.

— word count: 2.3k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 22nd day, Targcest (aunt/nephew), female!reader, queen consort!reader, king!Jacaerys, dark!Jacaerys, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, spit kink, rape/non-con, degradation, rough sex, gore, referenced mutilated penis, nipple play, nipple torture, blood and violence, blood kink, vaginal sex, anal sex, hate sex, implied PTSD, biting, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, VERY DARK CONTENT, hurt no comfort, mild angst, light unconscious sex, ambiguous/open ending (but it would probably be a sad or bittersweet ending), curse words, death threats, sexism, crying, dacryphilia, mild dumbification, referenced permanent injury, mild aftercare (BUT NO REALLY), past genital torture, Jacaerys also lost an eye, fake character death, emotional manipulation, sadism, breast worship, forced orgasm, marriage of convenience, forced marriage, sexual and psychological torture, survivors guilt, male infertility, Jacaerys Velaryon lives, Jaehaera Targaryen lives, Baela Targaryen dies, forced child marriage mentioned, minor Jaehaera Targaryen/Aegon III Targaryen, past Jacaerys Velaryon/Baela Targaryen, past Aemond Targaryen/reader, mild Stockholm syndrome, age gap (older woman/younger man), Jace's 17 during 131 AC and 21 during 135 AC, reader's 21 during 131 AC and 25 during 135 AC, dom!Jacaerys, sub!reader, canon divergence (The Blacks win the Dance of the Dragons), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @turdettethefirst

— crossposting: AO3

"The King ordered your presence into his private chambers, Your Grace. Immediately."

The maid's voice brought you out of your almost peaceful sleep. Before the war, you loved having the calm to sleep and get plenty of rest whenever you could, away from the trivial duties of Royalty. Before, you loved going to sleep and waking up with your nephews laughing and playing on your bed, trying to wake you up by the most messy and childish possible ways. Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor were like your children too, you helped your older sister to take care of them, often more present in their lives than Aegon himself, who was always just focused on fucking whores or harassing the castle's servants.

During the Dance of the Dragons, you almost went crazy, also like Helaena. As if the cruel murder of your nephew Jaehaerys was not enough, you were also forced to marry your twin brother, Aemond, who ended up dying during The Battle Above the Gods Eye along with your uncle Daemon, turning you into widow at just twenty years old in that time. Your half-sister Rhaenyra's death was inevitable, as were the deaths of nearly every member of the Targaryen family. However, Rhaenyra's bloodline continued on the throne after the mysterious poisoning of your older brother Aegon II during 131 AC. When the Blacks took back the Iron Throne, your greatest concern would be not only the fact that your other nephew, Aegon III, son of your half-sister and your uncle Daemon, could ascend as the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms at such a young age, but also the fact of what would happen to you and your little niece Jaehaera, who had the tragic fate of marrying the boy even though they were both children, as a stupid attempt at a peace treaty between the Blacks and Greens.

To your surprise, it was not Aegon III who ascended the Iron Throne, much less little Jaehaera or even you. But Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen's firstborn and her legitimized heir, the one that everyone believed for almost two years that he was dead. On that horrifying afternoon, you were sure that the new king would order your death and the death of your niece. Which never happened. You did not know how Jacaerys had survived after the Battle of the Gullet, but despite the possible cruel fate that awaited you, you were grateful that His Grace was a man of his word and swore to keep Jaehaera alive and safe in King's Landing, not breaking up the marriage between her and his little brother, Aegon III, but also giving his word that the two children only would be able to consummate their marriage years later and did not need to act as a couple while they were still so young. After all, Jacaerys might want revenge on your family at all costs, but that did not mean he was in favor of murder or allowing the rape of a little girl, in a certain way.

Even during 135 AC, four years after the coronation of the current ruler, Jaehaera remained alive and safe, protected by her brother-in-law and cousin. Your nephew and husband. The new King. And for that, your fate was forever sealed as the second wife of King Jacaerys Velaryon, the first of his name.

"Lady Wife!" Jacaerys shouted with exaggerated excitement as he lay on the bed, completely naked but covered by the silk sheets. "I see the maids did not disappoint me again this time."

You took a deep breath, remembering the week before when he yelled at the servants for taking so long to bring you to your shared chambers. It had been unnecessary and agonizing to watch how people cowered in the face of his threats. The once kind and sweet Prince Jacaerys had become such a rude and merciless King since the death of his family. You could not blame him, even if you preferred to be able to.

"They were quick to bathe me and get me ready to see you." Your tone was monotonous, without emotion or affection. It was always like this. A slow death sentence you signed for the sake of your niece Jaehaera. You were used to this exhausting routine. Lying with Jacaerys when he was drunk, angry with the duties of his reign and the weight of the crown, as well as the grief that tormented his mind every night, indulging in wine or pleasure houses to try to avoid insanity which was approaching him little by little.

Both of you never knew each other very well before the marriage of convenience. You had interacted with Jace just a few times before the Dance of the Dragons, the last time being at that disastrous Viserys's supper, when Jace tried to be polite and ask Helena and then you for a dance, but his kindness only ended up making Aegon and Aemond jealous about Hel and you, causing more chaos between your families.

You might not know much about Jacaerys. However, it was obvious that the war had changed his personality. Now, he was colder, far from the soft boy who once made you chuckle dancing with him in an almost clumsy way. Now, Jace just saw you as a prize won due to the war, even if you were his second wife. He had lost everyone, even Baela.

Not that he really loved her, but there was affection and protection there. Political marriages that turned into true affectionate feelings. If only Baela had not died during the labor of their stillborn son... Perhaps he would have truly loved her as time passed. Perhaps he would have heirs now and would not need to sleep with you. Or almost that.

"You are so fucking stand-off right now, My Queen." The King muttered mockingly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he took another sip from the wine cup, motioning for you to approach the bed. With a sigh, you walk in silence, taking off your white nightgown you wore and sitting on his lap carefully, looking at him. Jace had intense marks spread across his body and face, scars that you wanted to caress if only he did not despise you as hell.

This adult version of him reminded you of your brother and ex-husband Aemond. The unexpected parallel between the uncle and the nephew was interesting. Both men missing one of their eyes. Aemond One-Eye, Jacaerys One-Eye. But there was no sapphire inside your current husband's eye socket. After reclaiming what was rightfully his, Jace ordered a black obsidian to be molded to fit there. A sadder version of your brother and ex-husband.

You missed Aemond, even if he was not a good husband and refused to breed you until the end of the war. Jacaerys missed Baela, even if he did not have any romantic feelings for her.

"I wish I could breed you with my heirs." Jace murmured, brushing away the silver hair that was in front of your face, taking in your delicate features for a moment. "I wonder if they would have silky light hairs like yours, or if they would be cursed with my dark hair."

His words made you curl into his lap, biting the lip to ward off a pained whining when he grabbed a handful of your silver strands, as if he wanted to rip them out completely and make you swallow every single one of them later. "I wish I still had my cock, then I would fuck you until your cunt swelled and was sore. I would hear you screaming and crying every night, begging me to stop hurting you while your tight little cunt would be constantly bleeding and milking me. And guess what? I would never stop. I WOULD NEVER STOP! I would be turned on seeing my seed leaking from all your holes and you screaming for my mercy just like the disgusting brothel whores."

The sickly macabre sentences caught you off guard and he pushed you under the bed, climbing on top of you, now without the sheets covering the absence of his cock, just the bad stitches and the almost huge nauseating scar where the Greens had ripped off his big and delightful penis. The length that Jacaerys always boasted about as a teenager. He would probably be the next Realm's Delight, just like his mother had been. But now all he had to content himself with was fucking you with his large fingers or his tongue, kissing you aggressively, always biting your lips or your breasts until they bleed, covered with light scars, just like he did with the whores from the brothels. "You should always be my own brood mare. I should force myself on you and make you carry my children every year until you learned to enjoy it. To enjoy me. TO LOVE ME!"

In that same second, as if he could read your mind, Jacaerys spat in the middle of your breasts and pinched your nipples with both hands between index fingers and thumbs, making you scream as he twisted them hard. "I should rip off your own nipples and make yourself eat them for dinner. I should fuck your nasty cunt with the blade of my sword until your womb tears, being disemboweled from the inside. I should kill you like your damn family killed mine." He shouted angrily, hitting your face once before squeezing your chin, forcing you to part your lips so he could spit the wine-tasting saliva onto your tongue. "SWALLOW IT! THIS IS AN ORDER FROM YOUR TRUE KING!"

He yelled, forcing you to obey after the next three slaps he gave you, without even letting you breathe. You swallowed his spit, your tears flowing in panic and your heart racing from it all. Jace's newly acquired cruelty was no longer a surprise to you, but sometimes your attempt at apathy faded and you let your sad emotions take control. You continued crying as the King spat in your face two more times, not even trying to clean up his disgusting mess on your cheeks and just allowing his hands to hurt your aching cunt, his slender fingers fucking you without any care, probably drawing blood while you bit your lip and closed your eyes, trying hard not to pay attention to anything. Trying hard not feeling anything or thinking about anything. Trying hard not to admire the scars on his handsome face or the dark jewel inside his empty eye.

You needed to keep Jaehaera safe. After the death of your sister Helaena, Jaehaera was no longer just your niece, she was also your daughter now. She was the only good thing in whole your life and you needed to protect her, even if it meant sacrificing your body and mind. You wondered if this was how your Lady Mother Alicent felt everytime your stupid father Viserys fucked her since she was just a teenager girl. In those years ago, did Alicent feel violated? Raped? Disgusted with her husband, with the world and mainly with herself? Did she also feel guilty and think she deserved those so cruel acts? But... did Alicent also feel empathy even about the man who hurt her?

Alicent Hightower was a broodmare for Viserys Targaryen. However, Jacaerys Velaryon could not procreate and get you pregnant with his seed. So you did not know what that made you. Just an object to be used and abused by him? Beaten until one day he finally had enough and murdered you? Until the little Aegon III getting older and inherits the Iron Throne due to his older brother's lack of heirs?

Would this be Jaehaera's fate too? Being just a Queen Consort and a whore inside the private chambers against her own will? Was this the fate of all women?

The hours passed in a blur, despite you being conscious the entire time, you decided to keep your thoughts empty and away from the cruel reality, preferring not to staring Jace. You did not realize how messy and filthy your face was with the King's saliva until you felt Jacaerys's hands caressing your cheeks with panic, trying to clean up the violence he made, his own fingers being full of your cum and the blood that had come out so much from your cunt and from your ass, both tight holes bleeding and hurting like the Seven Hells.

"Gods, I am so sorry." Jace sobbed, keeping to wipe your face. You saw how his eye became even more prettier filled with crystal clear tears, his cheeks red from crying. "I am so sorry, My Queen. I did not mean... I did not mean to be like this. I did not want to be a monster. I just want my family back. I just want to be able to be a good husband, I just want to be a father. I did not want to be that kind of King." Jacaerys hugged your tired and vulnerable form, his naked body shaking from the intense bout of crying as he searched your mouth to kiss you softly, as a way to compensate. The kiss tasted like tears, cum and blood. But you did not care. "Oh, Gods. Please, forgive me. Forgive me, aunt." You let him kiss you with some tenderness while he was apologizing in the midst of despair. You knew everything all too well. All of this would happen again in just a few days.

Jacaerys Velaryon had become the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and you had become his Queen Consort. Grief, sacrifice and pain carried the weight of crowns. The daily tragedies would happen forever until one of you died. This was the true destiny of the Greens and Blacks. There were never victors after the war. The eternal unhappiness was the only conquest.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

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Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

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