#r*pe tw

[diejager]

Hi! Could you please a non-con with John Price? I really love your blog!!

Orders, Private

Pairing: Dark!Captain John Price x fem!reader

Cw: NON-CON/DUB-CON, DARK, nsfw, p in v, creampie, choking, age gap, oral (male receiving), implied pregnancy, unprotected sex, cockwarming, implied discharge, abuse of authority, slight daddy kink, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.8k

You joined the army to feel secure, to be safe and to be able to protect yourself. Although it was a predominantly male occupation, you found yourself feeling more at home and comfortable with them and the few female soldiers at the base. You had a small convent of your own composed of the women who left their households to join the military for various reasons, both good and reasonable. You trained and grew, fresh out of the toxic environment of a strict religious family, climbing from a cadet to a Private First Class at 19. You were proud and so were your brothers and sisters, watching the scrawny kid grow leaner and stronger in the past year. 

You were safe and protected. You could defend yourself from others tempted to force themselves on you. You were strong. Perhaps you became too relaxed knowing you were surrounded by people you could trust, letting your guard down and your nativity unchecked. You felt safe, you hadn’t worried about your commanding officers. You didn’t see yourself being in danger around them, and yet, here you were, forced to your knees for a man you trusted, a man that had led you and inspired you all. 

That’s why it hurt even more.

“Orders, private,” was all he told you, dark eyes staring at your bobbing head between his legs. A cruel grin danced across his lips, a proud and shrewd smile that creased the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he bit back a groan, throwing his head back and thrusting back into your mouth. 

You let out a pained whine, fingers clawing at his thighs, big and hard, hot under your smaller hands. His balls slapped your wet chin, his cock far down your throat had made swallowing difficult, saliva dripping from your wide and swollen mouth. He growled, rocking his hips erratically, chasing the tightness in his groynes, the promise of relief. He laughed when you gagged, your throat retching and closing. He laughed like it was a joke, a cruel joke that he suddenly came up with to deprive you of air. 

He used the momentum of both his thrusts and the bobbing of your head to force his shaft deeper, hitting the back of your throat as he throbbed in your mouth. Your nose bumped his musky, pubic hair, the scent was strong and heady, smelling of sex and sweat. Your chin rested against his heavy sack, balls tightening as he came down your throat, spurting ropes of tangy cum.

“Swallow, private. I’ll make you lick it clean if I see a single drop on the floor.”

His threats weren’t hollow, they were true and founded on the fear of harsher abuse. You tried swallowing every drop, throat gagging around his softening shaft in a failed attempt at listening to his order. His rough fingers brushed your hair back, playing the illusion of an encouraging master, rewarding you with soft petting - an illusion of a consensual blowjob. You weren’t fooled, you couldn’t be after this. 

Your hands left his thighs to cup at your closed mouth when he slid out, his heavy cock slapping your chin as it left. Your cheeks were swollen with cum, the salty substance weighing heavily on your tongue and conscience. You tilted your head back to ease the flow, still and subservient to his calm petting. Slowly, you swallowed everything, red eyes closed and teary, tears streaming down your cheeks as he cooed at you lovingly. If only you could disappear, leave your body and let it all happen to you while you weren’t here, while you dissociated-

“AH!”

White hot pain flashed through your mind, Price’s fingers grasped your hair and tugged your head back, forcing your mouth open for him. He hummed satisfyingly, eyes glued to your swollen lips and flat tongue. He roved over it, smiling proudly at your tear-stricken expression, your wet cheeks, dilated, doe eyes and your messy hair. The sight of your dishevelled look seemed to arouse him further, his once-soft cock hardening between his thick legs, standing proudly with a pink blush on the tip. 

He jerked you back, throwing you to the ground as he stood up, circling your gasping figure. You rested on your knees and elbows, back facing him and head down, chest puffing with erratic breaths. Wolves would lower their heads before a stronger pack emmener, showing their submissiveness or respect to the older and stronger wolf. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him anymore. It hurt too much. However much you wished you could rebel, you knew it was futile. 

You were a private and he, a captain of a Task Force. He outranked you by nearly two decades in experience and reputation. No one would believe you if you told them that Captain John Price had raped you. You would be called a traitor, a sham, a liar, someone who wanted to ruin the pristine image of the great Captain Price. 

You were alone, no one would help you.

“Get up.”

On shaky knees and unstable footing, you stood up, steps stuttering to reach him at his desk, but you were too slow for his liking. His hand reached to grab at your lapel, pulling you to him. He kicked behind your knees, knocking you off balance and onto his desk, upper half splayed over the hardwood. He bent you with the full intention of fucking you. It scared you because you wouldn’t be able to fight him off, he was both bigger and stronger. 

Your nails dug into the wood, looking ahead with fresh tears. He felt your body, big palms wrapping around your waist and down your chest, cupping your breast with a sigh from him. He gripped your hips, feeling the leather belt buckle and ripped it free. You cried out as he pulled your pants down, hands kneading the curves of your hips and the roundness of your ass, fingers gripping your fat with the intent of bruising you. 

“Please…” you begged. You didn’t know why you did it, but it was the only thing you could do at the moment. Beg until your voice turned hoarse and weak, a whisper of what it used to be at the peak of your glory.

He scoffed.

“You’re always so soft.” 

He felt you a while longer before his searing hands left you. You sighed but froze when something hard and hot bumped your ass, the wet mass rutting over you. Your breath stuttered and you resulted to hide your face between your crossed arms, giving up on your miserable fate. He pumped himself, sighing as he ran the tip over your fold, slipping between your slit and nudging your pulsing clit. A shuddering chill wracked your body, breath stuck at the back of your throat.

He blew out a chuckle. Your body reacted to his stimulation while your mind still reeled at the betrayal. Your body and mind were two different things, one reacted to things while the other commanded. Although you abhorred it, it was only natural that you were slick from everything. Your begging and crying did nothing to stop your body from reacting accordingly to Price’s touch or dampen the intensity of your slickness. 

“So warm… and wet-” he rocked into you once his mushroom head caught your entrance, bottoming out in one hard thrust. 

You jerked forward with a cry, clinging to his desk as he pulled out and pushed in roughly. He groaned as he slammed in, eyes rolling back when your warm walls squeezed around him, trying to accommodate his bigger girth. Price drove into you with feral grunts, hips rocking and hands bruising you. He liked painting your skin black and blue with his hold, and carving your flesh with the half moons of his blunt nails, red and irritated. It was a show of possessiveness, marking his little soldier to remind you and himself of who you belonged. It roused the predator inside of him, bringing it to the surface of his usually calm and commanding facade. But none came alone, one always brought another; he’d whisper dark promises to you, ravaging you with animalistic intent. They were dirty things, brutal promises that he had full intentions of keeping.

It made you fear him more than anything else. 

“No! Please no! Price stop- ”

You struggled against his assault, legs kicking under him and voice screaming for reprieve in the soundproof room. He slid his arm under you, grasping your throat as he pressed into you, the tip ramming into your cervix. You choked a hoarse cry, body pulled in an arch before him, head over his shoulder, forearm holding you against his chest and hips between him and the desk’s sharp edge. It dug into your flesh as his cock ploughed deeper inside of you, spearing you over his throbbing length, threatening to spill a second time. 

“I like the thought of you swollen, love,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his beard irritating the soft skin of your neck as his pace grew frantic, latching on to the tight string of pleasure. “Swollen with my child, hmm?”

He chuckled at your fearful whine, your head shaking and fingers clutching his hand, running red lines over it. 

“Yeah, I love it too. Watching the little nipper run around the house.”

His sweat dripped from him to you, the musky odour of sex, pine wood and cigars coating you in a mix that is instinctively his. A musk that belonged to John Price. His hand left your hip to toy with your sensitive nub, rolling it with his thumb while you moaned and squirmed, the walls of your sexe tightening around him like a vice. He cursed and jerked his hips faster, harder and rougher, lost in the delirium of pleasure and hunger. 

“Come, love. Come now.”

Orders, private, echoed in your mind, his word was law, his hand, the mighty hammer. He ingrained it in your mind and your body reacted as such. A well trained pet for its master to order around. Your breath caught in your throat and your hip bucked into his thrusts, head thrown back with a sharp keen. You closed around him, spamming walls pulling him deeper as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, quenching your dripping arousal. 

“Fuck-” he swore, grinding against you as your relief pulled at his. He came with a moan, tip spurting white, potent cum into your young womb. It flooded your cunt and leaked around him, staining his military-issued pants with dark patches. He stayed inside of you as he sat on a chair, plugging you with his soft cock to keep from wasting his seed. He wanted it to take so he could have you discharged and kept at home. He wanted you as his little wife, possessiveness rearing its ugly head.

 “You’ll make me a daddy this time, yeah?”

If not, he’d just fuck you again and again until it knocked you up.

[reallyromealone]

WARNING: ANGST, RAPE THEMES, IT GETS DARK, EDDIE IS A BIT OF A DICK, OMEGAVERSE

Eddie Munson x male reader

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

Resilient.

That was the best way to describe (name).

Having been through the works in life, he pushed through.

"Goodnight baby" (name) tucked little (sons name) in, the boy content in the queen sized bed and hugged his little teddy bear.

His third birthday was near, something (name) thought about deeply.

He had put aside money for a gift and gathered his god parents, the only ones (name) trusted after all this time.

Opening up his laptop he hesitantly opened his email and typed.

This was the last time he was contacting Eddie Munson.

Not for money, not for anything.

This was the last olive branch he was giving him about their son, having sent countless letters to Wayne's home though he doubts Wayne told him after... the incident.

"Nancy wheeler... you can go to hell" he whispered to himself and sent the email.

"A son... fucking gold digger" Eddie hissed as he glanced at his phone while at a party with his friends, Dustin glancing at him "how dare he... probably not even mine."

"Dear Eddie,

I know you hate me, but I just want you to know, you have a son.

You don't have to meet him, but you should know he exists.

-(Name)"

He read this out loud and the party seethed, the band seethed as Eddie sent an email, not noticing others doing the same, Dustin, Mikey, Garreth and Eddie sending horrible messages.

'gold digger '

'slut'

'shameless whore'

'Come crawling back now that he's worth something? Pathetic'

'why not crawl back to the guy who knocked you up you cheap bitch'

These were things sent to him in multiple emails by people he once considered his pack, the Omega breaking down once his son went with his grandfather Hopp for the day, the cop wanting to take his duckling fishing for the day.

"I-I didn't cheat-- I-I swear!" He gasped out as Steve and Robin held him close, the two knew the truth of what happened and wanted to throttle Eddie Munson for how blind he was.

(Name)... wasn't a cheater.

He was a victim.

(Name) never let anyone get close to him like that since high school ended, his focus on his pup.

That boy was (name)s world, sacrificing everything so he had a good life.

And he would never let another alpha hurt him again.

"And then my ex, you remember (name)? Fucking messages me and like 'this is your kid'" Eddie ranted to his friend, an outcast who also attended Hawkins high "fucking slut cheats then has the Gaul to say that kids mine? Guess the baby daddy ditched him"

"...you didn't hear?"

"Hear what?" Eddie was hesitant as he looked at his friend "(name) didn't cheat..." he said softly "he was raped, there was a whole rape kit and everything, Nancy made lies about him because she thought he was too close to Steve because she didn't know you two were dating" the friend explained and eddie felt his world stop.

"...what?"

No.

What?

Holy shit.

Eddie felt his world stop as he thought about everything.

Oh god...

He... he was so cruel to his boyfriend at such a traumatic moment.

Eddie shot up and left, driving back to his house.

Rushing to his laptop he went back to that email, clicking the photo attached to it and stared. That was his son, he was a spitting image of Eddie with (name)s eyes and skin tone, wild hair and the smile... oh god the smile.

He didn't know what to do.

"He was raped... oh god my mate was raped..."

By who?

Who did that to him?

Oh.

Eddie thought back to that day.

The day he dumped (name).

"Oh my god..."

[starlight-bread-blog]

Heavy trigger warnings for sa, victim blaming, and gambling addiction.

This is very early on to make a critical meta of Hazbin Hotel, so consider this a contained critique of ep4 alone. And if the show goes in a whole different direction, I'll gladly eat my word.

Angel Dust is Victim Blamed in Ep4

A character doesn't speak for its show, but it seems like they were playing it straight. And they took it too far. Their situations have simularities, but cannot go beyond a small parallel.

Husk had power and but lost it because of his addiction. Now he's stuck serving an overlord. Angel had no power and made one mistake. Now he's getting r*ped and abused. These situations are not the same. Which makes the next bit very distasteful:

No he isn't. He's a sa survivor. That is victim blaming. Making an endearing song about how they're similar where Husk is calling Angel a loser, is straight up victim blaming. What makes this even worse is that Angel is now convinced that he's a loser.

There's another massive issue with framing Angel Dust and Husk as similar, one that I've spotted in Poison as well. I think it's perfectly illustrated here:

But we weren't talking about Angel Dust supposedly having a sex addiction. We were talking about him getting r*ped because of a contract. The show is painting a picture of Angel being drawn to sex work and being a loser for it. Angel Dust's "appletite" is not the issue. He is not the issue.

But looking back at Poison, I don't think this issue stems from comparing Angel to Husk. Because in his own song, he says this:

"Addicted"? What does he mean by that? The feelin' of... getting r*ped?

The show is mixing up a sex addiction with sexual abuse and the implications couldn't be worse. They're making it seem like Angel Dust caused his sexual abuse because he was an addict. Like it's his fault for being "drawn" and I don't know what the intent was, but someone fucked up.

I came into this episode hearing it was insensitive, but coming in with an open mind. I honestly didn't expect victim blaming. I didn't expect sexual abuse to be compared to following orders. I didn't expect a sa survivor getting called a loser. And I didn't expect lines like "I can't help but swallow". Again, if they subvert this, great! I'll be happy. But for now: He didn't cause any of this. He's not a loser.

[bee-unknown]

Rhaenyra doesn't want to be a man because she feels like one, she isn't trans

She wants to be a man because if she was her mother probably wouldn't have died, if she was there wouldn't have been a war, her claim wouldn't have been questioned, if she was a man she wouldn't need to earn the respect of the lords or the smallfolk, if she was a man they would've handed her their respect on a silver platter with a side of caviar

She wants to be a man because her whole life she's been told she wasn't enough because she isn't a man

If she was a man she could sleep around and her claim wouldn't be questioned, if she was a man and had bastards her claim wouldn't be questioned

If she was a man the fandom wouldn't hate her so much, and wouldn't consider her a spoilt whore for doing something men do x5

I mean you've seen it, Aegon raped several servants and the fandom still loves him, even saying that Dyana was exaggerating or that it was "normal" back then, Rhaenyra had consensual sex with her knight and they consider it "rape" because of their power imbalance (and only after she rejected the idea of running away with him and abandoning her duties)

[princess-starscourge]

What was with OUAT’s “r*pe by deception” problem? Regina with Graham, Zelena with Robin, Mother Gothel (or whoever it was) with Hook. And it’s never addressed 😕

[traumadumpwriter]

Freedom: A John Shelby Fanfiction

Heavy trigger warning: Blood, violence, gore. Mentions of self harm, sexual assault and rape.

Check out the other chapters by going on the Freedom tag on my page!

Sorry for the slow updates. I'm much more regular on my Wattpad and already have a lot more chapters uploaded there. The @ is slowlychanging.

Don't forget to like and comment if you're enjoying! It really does mean a lot. Stay safe xx

Chapter Twelve : 3370 words

The next couple of days were spent in that bed, John refusing to let Alice even get up to cook. He was cautious and weary, strictly following the instructions given by the nurse of bed rest for at least a week - although Alice's seductive nature meant perhaps she wasn't resting as much as needed.

"Darling I don't wanna hurt you. Are you sure this is alright?" Despite the concern his lips were pulled into a grin as he hovered over her, eyes absorbing every inch of exposed skin.

"Yes it's fine. Just don't be rough. We can do slow, can't we." She replied with a smirk, running her fingers down along his chest until they reached the button of his trousers.

No one had come and bothered them, not even Pol, meaning they'd stayed in their loving bubble with mostly no worries of the outside world for over 72 hours now. A pure and rare reprieve for the pair.

If even the slightest bit of upset crossed either of their minds, they were quickly distracted by the other - either by the uncontrollable lust or almost unstopping conversation, the most obscure facts being revealed about one another with every passing hour. The room was rarely silent; chatter, laughter, moans, but when it was - the silence was welcomed. Laid on their sides, devoutly staring into each other's eyes and keeping their fingers intertwined - at times it felt too good to be true.

The only emotional discomfort truly experienced by either was by John after Alice would fall asleep - her still face and closed eyes somehow ending the spell of daytime bliss. Instead it reminded him of the things he was desperate to say, although the responses were possibly not ones he wanted to hear. There was still reprieve however; waking up from his bad dreams and being able to smell Alice's hair instantly dissolved any panic that would've usually affected him.

His favourite times were the mornings. The early sun, white in its shine as it peaked through the curtain, perfectly illuminating her - an angel in his baggy top. Her soft, sleep ridden voice and quiet giggle at his half awakened face, followed by a cheeky remark as he peppered her neck with sloppy kisses. She would ask him how he slept, he would say "fine" so as not to talk about it, then she would tell him about her dreams - her animated voice as she described the nonsensical plots bringing a smile to his lips.

Her favourite times were the evenings. The candle light basking the room in a comforting orange glow; sitting at the small table John had brought upstairs, with their empty dinner plates beside them as they played cards. Playful chatter and laughter erupted effortlessly from their mouths, remembrances of childhood and witty teasing. She loved to watch and listen to John talk, his eyes lighting up at certain subjects, perfectly comfortable in expressing himself - unlike when he was around others.

It had occurred to her however, that in the mornings at the mention of his sleep he'd look away - not in his usual way of disapproval or anger, but an awkward avoidance - and it didn't take much for her to guess why. On the third evening, a few drinks in her system, Alice finally let the words slip from her mouth. She'd been afraid to do so, to ruin the perfect bubble they'd been living in, but in a moment of confidence it felt right.

"What do you dream about, John?" She suddenly asked in the middle of a game, drawing his eyes from the cards and onto her curious gaze.

"What do you mean?" He was still smiling but it had weakened slightly.

"I mean.. you don't sleep well. And I think I know why."

There was a pause before he spoke again; getting the feeling that there was no escaping the truth - there never could be with Alice. He thought he'd fooled her but of course he hadn't, when had he ever?

"Of course you know, you know everything. Does that mean we have to talk about it?" He took a few sips from his drink before continuing, a chuckle lacing his tone. "You never really talk about any of your shit."

Alice raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk twinging at the corner of her lips as she spoke.

"You're right. We'll trade. You tell me about the nightmare that keeps you up and I'll tell you about mine."

He was taken aback, but only slightly, becoming used to the absurdity that would spring from her at the most unexpected moments.

"You've been sleeping like a log though and telling me about your dreams every morning." His tone was also laced with amusement.

"I haven't really been having them since we started seeing each other. Cheesy, I know." Her face was bashful for a second, looking down with a giggle before peering back up through her long lashes. "But they used to be bad. Especially before I escaped."

John took another few sips, his mind moving quickly as he processed every word and thought of an adequate response. An honest one.

"I can probably already imagine, it's not something I need to hear." He didn't let the taunting image he'd created of Jones dampen his mood, quickly shooing it away as he gazed somewhat cockily at Alice. "I wanna know something else though."

"What's that?"

"What's the cutting about?" He answered back immediately, moving his hands to hold her right arm, gently tracing his thumb over the heavily accumulated scar tissue. "And all the other shit? I don't get it. Why do you hurt yourself?"

Although the question surprised Alice, she didn't hesitate much in her answer - there was no reason to lie after all, he already basically knew all the worst things anyway.

"Because it feels good and it's instant and reliable. It's always been there for me. Sometimes it's just a distraction or adrenaline, sometimes it feels like I deserve it-"

"Why would you deserve that?"

"That's another question, it was one for one. You haven't answered mine yet, so now it's your turn."

"What! No. I won't interrupt again!" He protested.

"Sorry buster, it's your go." Alice giggled but her determined eyes let John know she wouldn't give this up.

"Okay fine." He cleared his throat before continuing, searching his brain for the words for a moment.

"It's usually the same one, I'm in the trenches." He was trying to stay nonchalant but the distant look that had appeared in his eyes made it evident that he could see the memory as clear as day.

"The mud is so thick I can hardly walk.. and all I can smell is blood. Stepping over the bodies of men I knew... And then I turn a corner and you're all there." He recounted with an airy tone.

The confident smile had faltered and his gaze drifted downwards to the table. He'd never said any of it out loud before and he felt an unfamiliar tight feeling in his chest. His hairs stood on end and his muscles tensed.

"Ada, Arthur, Mum, Pol, Finn, Karl, Tommy.. and now you. Piled up, bleeding, swollen and rotting like the men were."

Alice's smirk had also left her face, her hands switching position with John's and soothingly stroking his arm. She'd heard of war time trauma but had never really seen or heard it in person - practically living under a rock for the entirety of the war. John's pain made her think of her brothers, what they'd seen and endured before dying, and it made her feel uneasy - having pushed most grief away to the box in the back of her mind of things she didn't think of.

"And then... it doesn't matter." John cut himself off sharply, mentally entering the room again and looking back at Alice with clear eyes.

"I ain't shell shocked or nothing like that, not crazy." He quickly added with a nervous swallow.

"You think I'm judging if you're crazy?" The disbelief in Alice's voice followed by a giggle quickly dissolved the heavy mood that had formed, a chuckle even falling from John's lips.

"We both know where I would've ended up if it were anyone else that found me on the road that night." She confessed. "And even then I was slightly surprised that you didn't get me put away."

"Why would I do that? You're a bit nuts but you're just.. you. You're Alice." His tone was almost dreamy. "Far too beautiful to be hidden from the world; scars and all."

A silent moment of appreciation passed before Alice responded, wearily curious.

"Okay, my turn... Does it ever make you uncomfortable? Or maybe that's not the right word... Cautious?"

"What do you mean?"

"The way I am."

John took a sip from his glass, taking a second to look at her curious, unhurt eyes before answering.

"No. But it makes me scared."

The disappointment was immediately visible although she tried to hide it, her expression shrinking and grip on his arm loosening.

"Oh. I'm sorry." She scratched the back of her neck anxiously.

"Don't apologise. I just wish you could see you how I see you, then maybe you wouldn't want to hurt yourself."

Eye contact had ceased now, although John's sight remained glued to her face whilst she looked down at her lap.

"What do you see? Why would it make a difference?"

"That's another question. It's my turn now."

"Oh come on!" She suddenly looked up with a smile again, as if all the awkwardness had been removed from her in one swift, invisible action - lighting up the room with her pearly grin.

"You came up with the game!" John chuckled and then continued in a more somber tone "I want to know, why would you deserve that pain? I just don't get it, Alice."

She shot him a glare - half playfully - before answering, somewhat nonchalantly.

"Because I just do, John. Even before my husband, you remember, I was a fucking nut case. My whole life I've attracted trouble and now it's become me, or I've become it. I don't know. It's just the way it is."

Before he had time to respond she quickly added "Now tell me what you see. Why would it make a difference?"

An amused scoff left John's lips and he moved his arm to stroke her face, gently tracing his thumb across her bruised cheekbone. Despite her attempt to fluster him and keep the conversation on her terms, his mind collected and took note of every detail she spoke, attempting to settle the mysteries but still not understanding enough to.

"In my hand right now, I see the most gorgeous woman I've ever known. In this light, you look like a story mum used to tell; there were so many she'd tell me and Ada, princesses and all that bollocks." He laughed in happy remembrance. "But yeah right now, you look like those stories, how they made me feel; like the world could have something.. special in it." He shifted his touch to her lower face now, fingers brushing her lips. "In the morning, waking up next to you, I know the world has something special in it. You're like a fucking angel. It almost feels wrong to touch."

Alice couldn't quite believe the romances confidently falling from John's mouth, never knowing him to be so observant or descriptive.

"You're drunk." Was all she could justify but he immediately protested.

"Hardly. You're the drunk one. I'm surprised you ain't bloody wasted with that bottle you finished."

A short exchanged look followed by a minute of hard laughter. "Maybe I am a bit drunk." Alice thought to herself as she watched John clear the table and head downstairs.

"I'll do the washing up in the morning, just leave it in the sink." She yawned and went to stretch before the sharp pain of her ribs stopped her, a hiss leaving her lips that was heard from the stairs.

"And that's why I'll do it tomorrow." He spoke easily through the thin walls, his steps shaking the house.

Alice didn't bother to protest and stood up to get changed into pyjamas. John's baggy, white top and matching trousers from his teen years had proven to be extremely comfortable. It also made John feel a certain way, somewhat accomplished in his desire to have her belong to him, his clothes were a stand in ring. Maybe it was the white as well, it seemed to compliment her perfectly in every way.

He was back upstairs in a minute, unbuttoning his shirt to get into his own sleeping attire as Alice watched him with adoring eyes. She couldn't work out how it had happened but she was a woman obsessed. In the flickering orange light his toned, pale body resembled one of a marble statue - pale skin accompanied by rock hard muscle. From his dazzling blue eyes to the considerable sized bulge in his pants, her eyes were stuck to him like glue.

"You're so handsome." She smiled, giddy.

John chuckled slightly and looked at Alice, taking in the glow the fire gave her for another moment before extinguishing the flame, plunging the room in to sudden darkness. The faint glow of the moon peeking through gaps in the curtains was the only light afforded to the small space now but that didn't make it feel any less cosy. Instead, their combined body heat was like a flame of its own.

The next morning Alice awoke to an empty bed, momentarily confusing her until she heard clattering from downstairs and realised John was in the kitchen. A shushed cry of frustration followed the sound of something breaking and the woman giggled in entertainment at the realisation that he was obviously struggling with breakfast today.

With a big yawn followed by a pained hiss, Alice stretched out of bed and made her way downstairs. It was cold in the house, the air still defrosting, and she shivered walking across the creaking floorboards. John turned his head at the noise and was relieved to see her familiar brown eyes gazing back at his.

"I didn't wake you up did I?" His concerned tone was met with a tranquil chuckle from Alice as he put his back to the pan and held out his arms.

She quickly accepted the embrace, burying her face into his chest and taking a deep inhale of his scent.

"No. I did hear you struggling though."

John exhaled slightly in amusement, his eyes suddenly catching sight of the cold nipples pressing through his t-shirt.

"Someone's a bit chilly." He teased before moving a hand to gently cup one boob, his thumb circling her nipple in a way that instantly made Alice's legs squirm.

She had to keep her cool though. Despite the whole doting lovers thing, there were moments where she still remembered to keep her cool.

"Someone's overcooking the bacon." She cocked an eyebrow and he instantly turned around, muttering a quiet 'fuck' as he flung the bits of meat out of the pan.

"What are you doing down here anyway? You should be in bed." He questioned, his gaze now concentrated on buttering the bread in his hands.

Whilst he was at least partially distracted, Alice moved to the sink and began to scrub at the dishes from last night. She didn't like offering nothing to the house whilst he was kind enough to let her live there.

"I don't hurt too bad today. And I've been thinking we should probably go back to work soon." She answered nonchalantly.

John's tone was slightly more dreary, any mention of the outside world instantly adding to the drip that had been gradually decaying the foundations of his fantasy "You don't need to until you're healed. I'll make sure of that-"

"John, you know I hate being such a burden. And besides, I like work! I like being outside!" She protested, cutting him off.

For a second, John felt a pang of something bad in his gut. Was it jealousy? Or anxiety? Or guilt? He couldn't pin it exactly. But it made him look up from the sandwiches and back at Alice in a swift movement.

Upon seeing her confused expression those feelings mostly disappeared though, and he instead felt the previous bubbles of adoration rising from his stomach to his head. He put the butter knife down and stepped over to Alice, once again embracing her and pressing his lips to her head.

"You're so cute, you know that?" He smiled, inhaling her scent and moving one hand to pinch her bum, earning an amused gasp.

"Shut up. I'm serious." She retorted but couldn't hide her smile as she pulled away from him, determined to wash the last dish.

Once he noticed the sink full of soapy water, it only took a second for John's arms hands to automatically dive in there - splashing Alice from head to waist. Before she even had time to react he splashed her again and again, a low chuckle exiting his throat as a scream rose in hers.

It was cold and she was shocked, standing silent for a moment before letting the scream out and turning to John.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

He was already running though, laughing as he went into the living room and hid behind the sofa, followed by Alice.

"You're a fucking prick!" She declared, lunging towards him but he quickly shot out the way. His laughing only got harder as she continuously failed to catch him.

Like a mad man, he darted around the house and jumped just out of reach every time Alice got close to victory. By the time they'd reached back to the kitchen, she was also laughing, her ribs and stomach hurting from it.

"Just come here! I'm gonna get you!"

She hadn't even realised that they were back at the sink, John took his chance and struck again - this time soaking both of them as he violently thrashed at the water. Another scream escaped her mouth but this one was quieter, less shocked.

"You're ridiculous. You know that John Shelby?"

He scoffed, his eyes slowly trickling down from her big eyes and rosy cheeks to the translucent material sticking to her chest.

"You recon?" He smirked "Tell me, what would you do if you got me?"

Alice quickly caught onto the direction of his gaze, defiantly crossing her arms and wrinkling her nose.

"I would send you to a circus to perform with other monkeys." She tutted before letting out a teeth chattering shiver "Now can I please have some dry clothes?"

"Can I not look at you for just a minute longer?"

She rolled her eyes and dropped her arms with a giggle, losing the internal fight of acting cool and accepting it. John's gaze made her stomach swirl and her cheeks pink; a feeling she hadn't enjoyed since childhood, a feeling that she'd spent years being scared of and then years after that forgetting. His eyes studied her, a million thoughts visibly racing behind them, whilst his lips pulled into a small smirk.

"It's actually quite mad to me just how beautiful you are you know?"

The words combined with his sudden touch at the base of her top sent butterflies in all directions.

"You're sweet." Her voice was barely above a whisper and John replied in a low tone.

"If you knew what I was thinking you wouldn't say that."

Alice's lips also pulled into a small smirk.

"Do you not think I'm thinking the same thing?"

"What's that?" John raised his eyebrow.

"What do you mean what's that? You know." Alice shot back, confused.

As if his face couldn't get any smugger, his smirk deepened and he shook his head with a swagger.

"I wanna hear you say it."

Alice almost gasped, wanting to mock the game he was playing, but she herself couldn't resist playing it and so replied, with an exasperated eye roll "John Shelby, if you wouldn't mind, could you fuck me before I freeze my tits off."

"That's more like it."

[toxycodone]

I think the lack of Anya writings is a lot of like, some people feel really weird about writing smut about someone who's arc is about rape

i can understand wanting to be mindful of that but also like. she’s not real. lol

[ash-unnoticed911]

TRIGGER WARNING?

So something happened and idk if I’m losing my mind or if it actually is something..

Context:my mom and stepdad have been married for about 6ish years and me and him are not close at all. Like we talk occasionally but I do my best to avoid him because I do not like him

So I woke up today with a stiff neck, and I went to the kitchen to make some tea, and in the kitchen my mom was there and I just asked her “what would be better for a stiff neck? Tylenol? Or a muscle relaxer?”

And she answered me then she went to the living room, and he walked over to the kitchen and he started like massaging my neck?!? Like he asked where it hurt and I just pointed.. and then he like made comments about how I’m carrying alot of stress in there and how I have a huge knot and it went on for about like 5ish mins.. then he asked if it felt better and I lied and said yes and then he just stopped and walked away…

Like am I overthinking this?? Like I’m making something out of nothing right? I’m going insane right??

Idk

I’m rambling sorry.. hah I just didn’t know how to like… say anything idk

Idk I’m just like maybe I’m just making something out of nothing lmfao

Idk

Anywayyyyy

[cryptidcally]

Fannibals, your silence is resounding

[grossillygirl]

Will you tell us who bruised and used you while you were sleeping? And how was it waking up to cum on your face? Was the person still standing over you?

I would love to use you in your sleep, fuck!

TW r*pe &sa mention in detail.

Whoever used &bruised me left no sign of themselves, at the time i didn't process that i mightve been r*ped bevause i was like no im being crazy. That only happens in the movies right? I just idk i was young too, i didnt really deep it i just was like ouchies.

He wasn't still standing over me, i woke up and there was dried cum on my face and on my pillow but again i didnt even know what it was. My first thought was "... Wtf i didnt know sleep from ur eyes could go on your lips" 🤦‍♀️ by the time that i realised what it was, i like peeled/ washwd it off and realised who did it. But im not sharing that part😭😭

Despite the trauma, or maybe because of it(?), somno still turns me on a lottt

[hugmetightdontletgo]

pleease drag me into an alleyway and use my cunt, only to abandon me there and let strangers stare and rape me too <3

[corrupted-quin]

so uh- there’s an unofficial Block Tales RP game and I have seen some things-

[terrorbitch]

kink-shaming under the cut, you've been warned. i don't need to see shit about it.

imagine being like, famous and having people use your face for like... incestuous r*pe threads???? like what????? i cannot imagine how jdm would feel if he came across the indie rp scene where everyone and their grandma uses him as a r*pist who fucks his daughter(s)?????

[traumadumpwriter]

Heavy trigger warning: Blood, violence, gore. Mentions of self harm, sexual assault and rape.

Check out the other chapters by going on the Freedom tag on my page!

Sorry for the slow updates. I’m much more regular on my Wattpad and already have a lot more chapters uploaded there. The @ is slowlychanging .

Don’t forget to like and comment if you’re enjoying! It really does mean a lot. Stay safe xx

Freedom: A John Shelby mini fic

Chapter Ten: 4199 words

The intense car ride home reminded John far too much of that first car ride with Alice - after he and Arthur had seen her in the middle of the road that fateful night - and it made his stomach turn as he was once again plagued by questions that were all likely to have bad answers.

He was careful to keep the blanket wrapped tightly around her, holding her close to his chest and looking down at the high cheekbones and plump lips of her blood splattered face with an uncomfortable feeling of desperation. Sweat dripped from his face onto hers - but he daren't move his hand to wipe it - unable to bring himself to unwrap his arms from the tight position they were in around her, like he was holding pieces of shattered porcelain together.

Once they were back at his, John wasted no time cleaning things up - quickly checking between her passed out body on the sofa and the boiling water as he prepared a bath. He wasn't too sure of where all the blood had come from; it certainly wasn't all Ergin's and that was worrying him deeply. He moved fast but careful.

Gently, he placed her in the steel tub and watched the red rise to the surface, clotting and creating ink like patterns in the water. His hand swished away all those patterns swiftly though, delicately patting her from head to toe with a flannel until all of the blood was gone from her skin.

In most other situations her naked body would've excited him. But as he lifted her from the tub and carried her to his bed, he felt as if he were handling a delicate antique doll, terrified to crack the china skin. Her injuries were now clear and the water had even opened some of them up, creating more small trickles of blood although not enough for John to panic. His previous fear subsided as he realised the blood was from shallow cuts, littered amongst the hundreds of scars she already had from her neck down to her toes.

That confused him. "Did they make her do this? Or did she do this to herself somehow?" They weren't there that morning and she'd been busy all day, so the first option seemed more likely.

He couldn't imagine ever wanting a woman to hurt herself for his own pleasure but he'd heard of some sick minded men enjoying it - maybe the Turks were in that category of men. His jaw clenched at the thought. Maybe that's how Tommy knew Ergin would like her.

Then, he naturally ran his eyes along the rest of her body; some bruises already starting to form - particularly the finger shaped ones around her neck. That made him painfully grimace.

He could only look at her for a second longer before quickly pulling a clean blanket over the sleeping body and then pacing towards the front door, his anger reaching new heights as he imagined whatever had happened to Alice in those twenty five horror filled minutes spent inside the enemy territory.

With flared nostrils and shaking hands, he pulled on his coat and stormed out the house, instantly lighting a cigarette as he strode towards Watery lane. After only a couple seconds of walking he heard a familiar set of heels stepping towards him and soon Aunt Pol appeared out of the fog, strutting with a concerned expression.

"Is she alright John? What happened?" She asked worriedly, but could guess the answer after seeing his furrowed brow and clenched fists.

He simply shot the woman a glare before continuing his march, determined to get to his brothers and give them the nastiest fight he'd ever given them. Pol of course let out a huff before turning around and following him, having to walk faster to keep up with his wide stepped pace.

"She's alive isn't she?" Her voice had an unintentional amount of panic in it.

"Only just."

"Well if it's only just what the fuck are you doing out here and not with her? See to your brother tomorrow." The tone had lost its previous softness as she snapped at her nephew.

"It ain't just Tommy, it's you and Arthur too. All three of you fucking put her up to this." John hissed, his eyes staying focused on the pavement ahead.

"Oh please! Like you're not the one completely desperate to see that bloody bastard husband of hers dead. The Turks are gone and now it's only time until he comes to us-"

"What's the point him being dead if she ain't alive?" He stopped his pace and turned to his aunt dramatically. "Huh? I can't marry a dead woman! Can I!... She's fucking lucky she made it outta there alive and she certainly ain't fucking unscathed as Tommy fucking put it!" With an angry scoff he chucked his cigarette to the ground. "And you know what! After tonight I don't give a fuck about her being married already! Fuck that bastard, I'm gonna marry her! She ain't his and she never was - dead or alive - she's mine! And ain't no one, not you, not Tommy, not anyone is gonna take her from me! You got that?"

His eyes were wide and his breathing heavy - never having been angry enough at his aunt to rant at her so aggressively before. Usually he would keep his mouth shut and step into line, but something about Alice was making that submissive part of him disappear - at least for anyone who wasn't her - and he felt as if he could fight the whole world if it meant his girl would be okay.

Polly didn't tut or raise her hand at his outburst as she usually would at the slightest infraction though, staying calm as she looked at her nephew and only felt pity. The proposal was something she'd seen coming a mile off, but the pain he was feeling as a result of tonight - it was palpable. From his steely, reddening eyes to his raised but ragged voice; the young man was desperately in love. Desperately in love with a woman even more damaged than himself.

"Oh how awful love can be." Polly thought, letting out a sigh before adopting a more gentle tone again. There wasn't any satisfying answer to his outburst and so much like he did to her, she replied with another initial question of her own.

"Why have you left her on her own then? You and I both know that's a bad idea-"

"She's out cold." Again, John cut Pol off icily but could gradually feel himself calming down as he looked into his aunts comforting, knowledgeable face. If she was calm, then things had to be okay - that was the way he'd always known although he struggled to feel it in that moment. "So I can't even ask her what happened but she were covered in blood, fucking naked n only half awake when I found her so I'm sure you can fucking guess!"

Polly felt her heart drop to her stomach, a wave of nauseous guilt overtaking her. She should've expected it but she didn't, having faith in her nephews plan and even in the merciless violence that Clara's nightmare daughter seemed to have been capable of.

"And it don't even matter that the Turks are fucking dead. Because they still hurt her. I'd rather them be alive so I could fucking do to them what they done to her." His voice still frothed with anger but was considerably quieter now, sounding more tired and depressed than amped and violent as it was previously.

"Perhaps it wasn't as bad as John thought though. Maybe she did just dance as Tommy had said she would. Perhaps, Alice had been able to kill them before they had the chance to really hurt her." Polly tried to have herself believe as she attempted to soothe her heartbroken nephew.

"She's a tough girl and I'm sure she'll have Tommy herself when she wakes up." One corner of John's lip nearly twitched upwards at that image but was quickly anchored down before it actually had the chance to rise.

"She'll be fine, John." Pol continued, placing a hand on his shoulder before starting her walk back to the family home. "But you should be with her now. Tomorrow will come soon enough."

And with that she was gone back into the fog, stepping with less speed than before now that she knew Alice was alive and at least semi-okay.

It was news that Arthur waited impatiently to hear, unable to see his brother himself after hearing about the bloodstained car ride from Isaiah. He knew exactly how angry John would be and couldn't blame him one bit for whatever violence he was sure to want to inflict on him. But that wasn't the thing that stressed him most - he'd grown a genuine soft spot for the extra ordinary woman and was now terrified that he'd played a role in another traumatic experience or at the worst, her untimely death.

Sure, he knew the Turks sadistic reputation - but he also knew Alice's and now, like Pol, realised that he had possibly placed too much faith in it. After all, she wouldn't have been able to torture David without the assistance of the brothers - in fact if they hadn't been there he probably would've had his way with her. Why hadn't he even considered that fact until now? Why did he have to just trust that Tommy's plan would go completely perfect?

Stressed, he ran his hands through his hair and looked up at the clock - each second dragging agonisingly as he waited for his aunts return. As soon as the door opened and her dark locks were visible, he rose from his seat and opened his mouth but Polly beat him to the punch.

"She's out cold as your brother put it - you won't be getting any real answers until tomorrow. But alive at least."

Arthur nodded silently, relief flooding him although you wouldn't be able to tell from his stoic expression.

"I've never seen him like this before, Arthur. He was on his way to whack you and Tommy until I stopped him... He's completely in love with that girl. He'll never forgive us for this."

Meanwhile a few streets away, John's face was as unreadable as his brothers but instead of being relieved, he felt sick. He carefully carried Alice up the stairs and into his bed - her body still heavy and limp as she showed no signs of waking soon. The blanket remained draped around her and soon she was tucked under another one - an attempt at providing the most comfort and warmth possible without actually wrapping himself around her.

She didn't stir even slightly throughout the night, remaining stiff to point where John would check her breathing occasionally - unable to sleep until the early hours himself. And when he did finally fall asleep, he was plagued with nightmares; his usual ones of war but now they cruelly had Alice intertwined into them too.

It was around eight that the woman finally awoke, instantly groaning from the pain across her body before her eyes even opened. She could smell John and feel the soft texture of his bed against her bare skin, something she peacefully soaked in for a second before the memories of the night before came crashing into view and she became acutely aware of her unwilling nudity - along with the sore injuries she seemed to be covered in.

Panicked, she sat up straight - instantly gasping and falling back down as she felt a shooting pain in her ribs. John shot up at the slight noise and quickly turned towards her, feeling as if he hadn't slept at all and was immediately alert.

Seeing her deep brown eyes open again, although they were full of fear, lifted a weight from his shoulders that he didn't even realise was there and he was quick to try to soothe her.

"Hey, hey it's okay-" he went in for a hug but she sharply flinched away, panicked breaths and tearful eyes making her look as vulnerable as a shot lamb.

"It hurts.. my ribs. I think they're broken." She gasped, looking down at her body and letting out an even more scared pant before looking up at John.

"I, I didn't want to get nude. Please don't think I'm a whore. I, I should have listened to you. I'm sorry." Her voice was a weak stammer and tears started to brew at her waterline as John quickly jumped out of the bed and raced to stand by her side - his speed unintentionally making her jump in fright.

Before she could panic any more though, he bent down and placed a long kiss on her forehead, holding her bruised face with one hand whilst the other interlocked with her shaking fingers.

"It's alright. You're okay. I'm with you. No one is ever gonna hurt you or have their bloody way with you again. I swear on it." He cooed, instantly relaxing her slightly. "And Tommy is gonna pay for sending you in there, I promise."

The silence that followed accompanied by John's gentle touch felt like heaven compared to the traumatic night before. She was safe now.

It gave Alice a real moment to collect her thoughts and calm herself down, the tears that were brewing quickly evaporating. She pondered on his words, how much it clearly worried him that she might've had sex with the Turks, and that was something she had to set straight before it could fester on his or her mind any longer. She didn't want him to think of her even more dirty than she already was.

"They didn't have their way, John. I wasn't raped. In fact, you arrived just in time." Her voice was still quivering, although considerably less than before. His touch seemed to have almost numbed her, a nonchalant energy to the R word as her body realised that she was now safe and no longer had to panic.

It was a word that some women wouldn't dare to utter, but Alice was so desensitised to it that it rolled off her tongue like any other word would. John decided not to think on that though, gently stroking her bruised cheekbone and placing another kiss on her forehead before he spoke again, a small relieved smile on his lips but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He didn't know whether to believe her or not - clearly so scared of being judged as some sort of whore although he could never see her that way.

"If I had been a few minutes later?" He asked quietly, trying to coax the full truth from her swollen lips.

"Then I imagine he would have had me." She replied plainly, no more shakiness or fear in her voice. The blunt tone was all he needed to know there was no lie, in fact it was her familiar blunt tone of brutal honesty - the words that came from it usually leaving a trail of hurt upon whoever received them. "But he didn't. You were there in time. So there is nothing to dwell on."

Another moment of silence passed, his hands remaining in their delicate positions before he slowly pulled them away and stepped backwards from the bed, getting a full look at her bruised neck and feeling that rage from last night kick in again.

"I'm assuming everything else went well? The Turks are no longer a problem?" She continued, not even acknowledging John's visible change in mood.

"Burnt to the ground." He spoke lowly.

"Good."

There was now an awkwardness in the air as John clearly wanted to say so many things but didn't know how to. Alice could guess what he was thinking anyway.

"I'm still going to punch your brother in his fucking face. I thought I was gonna die when Ergin was... and Tommy told me I'd be fine." Her voice was losing its confidence again as she thought of the fear she'd felt and she had to cut herself off to stop the shake from coming back. The anger in John's eyes was already blistering - he didn't need to hear how scared she'd really been.

He knew anyway, thinking back on the tales she'd told of Jones and how much it must've felt like being with him. He could never let that happen to her again. So, with a heavy exhale, he looked to his feet and then up again before speaking.

"I'm gonna drive you to the hospital, get those ribs sorted. We'll pick up Ada on the way to keep you company, I doubt you'll be there very long anyway." He instructed, moving across the room to get dressed as Alice lay with an irritated scowl.

She knew he was right but god she resented being told what to do - even by John.

"And what am I to do in the hospital? What about Tommy? I want to give him a piece of my mind." She moaned.

"You're to lay still, recover and stay safe." He replied before making his way back over to the bed with a small pile of clean clothes to pick from. "Don't you worry about Tommy, he's gonna get a piece of my, and probably even Pol's mind once I get my hands on him."

Alice sifted through the clothes, letting out an involuntary painful hiss as she moved out of the bed to get dressed.

The damage done to her body was clearer in the morning light illuminating the small room: dark bruises and vicious cuts. She looked even worse than John had realised in the dimness of the night before. He thought about the beautiful white dress she'd confidently galavanted in less than twenty four hours ago; how regal she looked even with a gun in her hand, how angelic she seemed. Now she didn't look much better than the men he'd seen at war.

Alice noticed his bewildered expression as she weakly pulled on a white shirt - the most comfortable from the pile - and found herself racking her brain for some words of comfort. She knew she looked bad and she knew John was worried but there was nothing to be worried about - atleast in her mind - she'd made it out alive, relatively unviolated and the blinders had won the battle.

Why did he care so much about her injuries? His intense gaze paired with the furrowed brows were starting to make her feel ugly.

"Stop looking at me like that, John. I'm fine." Her voice almost sounded angry, it probably would've come out a lot more intensely if she weren't so tired.

"Look at you like what?" He scoffed, watching her pull on a grey pair of trousers with an obvious attempt to keep a straight, unpained face.

"Like you're so... I don't know." She struggled to find the exact words as a pounding headache started to kick in. "Scared, or worried, or maybe even sad? Like I said, I'm fine and there's nothing to dwell on."

John scoffed at her again, louder this time and with more irritation. He looked to the floor with a tut before regaining the previous intense eye contact.

"You shouldn't be fine. You ain't fine! You should be upset, like you were just five minutes ago. But you go numb.. you go empty. It's like you don't even give a shit about yourself.. about what could've happened."

"What. Upset that a man could've forced his dick in me for the millionth fucking time? Or actually, finally killed me? La dee fucking da John! It didn't happen, so it don't matter. And even if it did why would it make a difference at this point? I'm already damaged goods, we both know that. So why do you care?"

The mood had drastically changed from the comfort of each others company to extreme irritation within a couple of seconds. Mood swings were a common part of being around Alice, yet John still found himself occasionally shocked by the intensity of them. Especially in this circumstance.

"Because I fucking love you, Alice! Jesus fucking Christ! What is actually wrong with you?" He raised his voice "You're actually fucked if you really think like that! Why don't you give a single fuck about yourself? Why aren't you angry?" A lash of agony laced his tone, every word she'd spoke landing like a knife into his chest.

"You think I'm not angry?" She scoffed this time, much more venomously than him. "I'm more angry than you could ever fucking know. I was kept prisoner for five years, John. I just learnt to hold it in."

"Well you don't have to hold it in anymore." He was desperate to quell her mood, to bring out her vulnerability again as atleast it meant she was human. But her defences stayed up and her expression mimicked one of a savage tiger, hissing and ready to pounce.

"Oh yes I do. Trust me. If I didn't, I'd never get to leave that hospital. I think you know that. Now let's fucking go and get it over with, Ada doesn't need to come, I can be left alone."

~~~~~

No more words were exchanged between the unofficial couple until they reached the hospital, both stubbornly side eyeing each other during the drive, secretly hoping the other would initiate the talk.

John didn't know what to say and Alice felt embarrassed to speak. Embarrassed that she'd panicked that morning, embarrassed that she'd then been rude and even more embarrassed that she'd even gotten hurt last night - having felt so certain of herself previously. All of these things made her weak - at least in her mind - and so she awkwardly kept her eyes to the ground as she struggled out of the car, holding in a pain filled groan.

Despite her attempts at hiding the breathlessness the forced silence was causing her, the observant man was instantly at her side, offering a hand by holding out his but still saying nothing.

With a defeated sigh, Alice intertwined her fingers with his and looked up into his eyes for a second before averting her gaze back to the floor. His sympathetic gaze could only be withstood for that long before she felt embarrassed again.

"I'm sorry." She sighed with an uncomfortable swallow of pride; not used to feeling so weak.

It surprised John as he was just getting ready to break the silence himself, unable to bear it any longer after a peak at her depressed expression. There was a lot he wanted to say in response, conflicting answers followed by questions, but they were both so tired that he decided against it.

"It's alright." He simply responded, a wooden pick balanced between his teeth. "Let's get this over with."

As they ascended the great stone steps to the lobby, Alice found herself needing to lean into John far more than she wanted to, once again feeling weak and embarrassed, unable to even keep eye contact with the receptionist as John demanded an immediate and private consultation - a big emphasis on those words only added to by the wad of cash gripped in his free hand.

God her cheeks were red by time she was being sat into a wheelchair, watching John whisper something to one of the nurses before they were quite ready to whisk her away. It wasn't hard to guess what he was saying, considering that Ada hadn't been picked up.

"Make sure she's not left alone."

So ashamed she could've cried on the spot and starting to completely disassociate, his face suddenly inches from hers made her jump as it took a second to register. She wasn't used to getting looked at with pity - it was usually the opposite - "or atleast it used to be" was all she could bitterly think.

"I'll go get Ada now." John's tone was still flat, struggling to maintain a calm composure himself. He tried to keep Alice's eyes on his with a deep stare, but once hers hit her lap they were seemingly anchored there; along with the corners of her mouth.

"You told the nurse not to leave me alone, didn't you?" What would usually come out as an intimidating sneer came out in a quiet sigh.

"Can you blame me?" His hand moved to stroke her arm but he stopped himself, swallowing and pausing for a moment before stepping away as he felt his emotions starting to badly brew again.

He didn't want to leave her, not even for an hour, in fact it was the last thing he really wanted to do. But the anger was becoming too much and he needed to let it out before he threw any of it at Alice - even if she was the cause of some.

So with a short, deep breath, he said "I'll see you later" in a tone so empty it shocked Alice for once, a friendly nurse wheeling her away but her words sounding like nothing as the woman's difficult thoughts reached max volume.

[msfbgraves]

((Anyway, Terry is always haunted by the fact that he hurt his relationship with Daniel himself, on purpose,))

THAT’S JUST IT THOUGH! Did he actively seek to hurt Daniel from the start (that night), or after (the cheating). Because if so…that’s so very cruel and brutal, and also…what the hell was he thinking?? That sweet Danny boy would just accept that and forgive him and still run back into his arms all ready to be cuddled or something?? There’s fucking up, and then there’s Terry Silver’s level of Fucking Up. He is very lucky that Daniel has forgiven him for ALL his fuckups—he should get down on his knees and thank the Lord! So sorry you have to put up with this fool Daniel lmao 🤣 I AM glad it haunts Terry though. Hopefully until the day he dies!

(But yeah, love them together in this fic 💜)

I'm reopening a can of worms here but yes, Terry did mean to hurt Daniel, if it started by him wanting to hurt Michael.

Except he couldn't, he lost a confrontation with him, felt he'd lost face, so what's the nearest thing to Michael he has available to him? Daniel. Daniel whose loyalty he doubts. Daniel he can have sex with, always a bonus, because it makes him feel good and strong; but tonight, he's also angry with Michael, very lowkey angry and insecure about Daniel's very strong attachment to his roots - would Daniel even side with him if it came to it? And sure, he's not analysing this consciously when he comes home to him, it's simply a brutal mix of circumstances, but still - you can hurt someone while having sex with them, something which is very difficult to prove to boot so when the opportunity arises he simply does what he wants with Daniel because he wants to prop himself up and hurt the LaRussos and get his anger out at Daniel's 'lack of loyalty' without endangering Daniel's physical health. Because that would show. And because he still loves him but that's not what he chooses to act on. And he's choosing not to stop himself but simply let out all these simmering irrational resentments, because, well, he's the Alpha here, he makes the rules.

And he thinks he can win his omega back after because he deep down doesn't think his mate will be very hurt by this. Hurt enough to satisfy Terry's ego, but nothing he couldn't fix. And all of this errupts in like 20 angry seconds, and Terry's angry, horny ass feels he'll deal with the consequences after he gets his fix of happy and ego boosting chemicals.

And a nice deep sleep.

And it's brutal. It's meant to be really brutal. It's so brutal in fact that even Terry wakes up hungover from this. He was, maybe, lost in the act when it happened - but part of him picked up on what Daniel's puppies could also feel, and that is: "uhoh. I hurt him - much more than I meant to."

But then when Daniel won't let him apologise - won't let himself be kissed and cuddled and wined and dined and bought back, but takes the baby and leaves, only for Terry to have to deal with four distraught pups and a seething mother-in-law - he lets his anger win again. Because he wasn't truly sorry. Daniel was supposed to make him feel better about himself, and he's left him. That is Not Allowed. Danny doesn't get to reject Terry, in any verse.

Only when Terry then physically feels the difference between his darling and some "kitty" does something finally shut up his ego long enough to make him realise what he's done, the idiot.

These two nights have a very, very long shadow because Terry had to learn that he didn't conquer Daniel and a great marriage like this is simply his due. He has a good marriage because Daniel has put his entire soul into building it and he can stop doing that, actually. Also that Terry better pray Daniel loves his mate and his pups enough to keep Terry alive. Even Amanda was like: "I love my brother to death but even I lowkey agree you should have killed him over this." And Terry does learn, but terrible actions like these have more severe consequences than any apology can negate. And it will colour your marriage, it will change how you love each other. Because they love each other through this, but at the cost of Daniel's innocence and Terry's confidence as a mate. Part of Terry used to fear that Daniel wouldn't grow to love him. Now, he'll always have to fear that Daniel will stop. Which makes him an insanely devoted mate, but at the cost of his peace of mind.

Pray all he wants, not even God can fix this completely.

[ash-unnoticed911]

Going off one of my posts yesterday { idk which one don’t ask}

But like

R*pe okay?

Like think about it.. I was 17.. I was a virgin… I won’t ever get that shit back.. Like.. o wish I was still a virgin… maybe if I knew how shit men were I’d be a virgin for life… It’s sad and fucked up.. Now I’m just a kinky whore who loves a bunch of stuff { oh ho ho, not exposing myself dear god no} but like It doesn’t make sense My sense of self worth is gone My confidence is gone My body positivity is gone though it was probably never there since I’ve always been fat.. but..