#tw: attempted rape/noncon

[2chopsticks2eyes]

Numb

(Part Two)

This is part two of a multiple part series, please be sure to start from part one!

(Part One) | (Part Two)

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Angst, (Smut), (Fluff)

Word Count (all parts): ~21.8k | AO3

Summary: You were penniless and working tirelessly at a seedy club when you were assaulted. As soon as you resigned yourself to your fate, Lee Minho saved you, albeit grudgingly. You received treatment and you didn’t have to pay them a dime under one condition: You must be confined to his home for the remainder of your recovery.

Author’s Note:

***IMPORTANT!!!*** THIS STORY IS FILLED WITH TRIGGER WARNINGS. THIS SECOND PART DOES NOT CONTAIN THOSE TRIGGERS, BUT IT IS IMPLIED AND REFERENCED. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ TAGS AND WARNINGS AT BEGINNING OF PART ONE BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The overall plot line was based off a recommendation from @linoots from Tumblr (I received permission from them to write this type of content)

(I’ve missed you all dearly. So sorry it’s taken so long 🥺)

__________________________________________

You silently watched as the doctor removed the IV that had been pumping fluids into your body for the past 48 hours and you rubbed the uncomfortable bandage he replaced it with.

You refused to make eye contact with him. In fact, you did not look or talk to anybody since you woke up in that same home-hospital room you had grown accustomed to. Not Chris, not Felix, and definitely not Minho.

You were a shell of your former self and you didn’t know if you were upset or relieved that you were revived. You didn’t know what to make of it. But now, there was one emotion you knew that burned brighter than your numbness.

Anger.

You couldn’t quite believe Felix’s words when he said that Minho was the one who came to your rescue… again…

But that was preposterous. The bastard probably told the younger man to say that to make himself look better… Whatever, fuck it all.

You allowed yourself to be led back to your room to get some rest. However, when Felix left and Minho walked in, you fortified your walls even further. You felt your face turn sour with each passing moment without even looking at the man and you rolled over in bed so your back was facing him.

There was a long pause of silence that seemed to drag on for hours.

You finally heard a long sigh and then the sound of him plopping down into the chair by your bed. “You know…” He started, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “There’s a reason I bothered to do all of this...”

You tried your hardest to ignore him, but you couldn’t control the fact that his words piqued your interest, your ears already tuned-in to his velvety voice.

“Not just this time, but… the reason I brought you here in the first place.” After a moment of silence, he realized you weren’t going to respond, so he huffed in frustration. “Forget it.”

You suddenly heard the door open and you peered over your shoulder. Without turning to face you, he blankly said, “You are now required to have 24/7 supervision, congratulations.”

And with that, the man walked out while Felix walked in, a meek smile on his face and hands full with baked goods.

“In the mood for cookies?” You sighed and just returned to your side as you balled up in a mess of frustration and confusion under the covers, mind still tingling with the thought of what Minho was going to say.

__________________________________________

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Felix. I’m a grown woman.”

Felix just huffed, obviously sick and tired of your complaints. “You know why it’s this way, sweetie. Don’t blame me for doing my job.”

The topic was a constant now. He was obviously there for your physical therapy, but he was also everywhere else. You loved the man, you did, but there is only so much time you could stand without a little alone time!

You wanted to watch TV? He was there. You wanted to nap? He was there. You couldn’t even go to the bathroom without having to leave the door open so he ‘has access to you at all times’. Thank god he stayed outside while you did your business…

After a week of this bullshit, you decided to do something about it…

Throughout your exploration of the house, you found some rooms with names on them. Evidently the ones that Minho once said were strictly prohibited. A couple of the rooms had names you were completely unfamiliar with, but others, you remembered well. Chan, Felix, Jisung, Seungmin, Jeongin, and finally some large double-doors with the initials L.M.

Lee Minho.

The man had supposedly been ‘out on business’ the entire week, but you knew for sure he had come back today with all of the ruckus of the house staff.

So, when you were positive that Felix had finally passed out on the sofa in your room for the night, you, as quietly as humanly possible, snuck out of the room and tip-toed down the hallway and downstairs to the doors you knew by heart now.

The room was surprisingly extremely secluded and you thanked the heavens because you knew for sure you wouldn’t be able to keep cool once he was in sight. You were fully prepared to bang your fist all the way through Minho’s door to meet the man himself if that’s what it took, but as you raised your fist to knock, the door suddenly opened.

Well… shit…

You really didn’t want to admit it, you really didn’t, but… the sight before you was absolutely, without a doubt, mouth watering. He looked just as surprised as you, but you found yourself focused on something other than his face for once…

The man was completely shirtless, pajama pants riding low on his hips and revealing the prominent V of his abdomen. Speaking of abdomen, the dude was of course ripped. Well, maybe not Dr. Chris (Or Christopher, or Chan, or what the fuck ever you want to call him) kind of ripped, but enough to make your eyes bulge out and glue themselves to every inch of impeccably toned abs and pecs.

And another thing that stood out in particular was the sleeve of tattoos twisting and swirling around the upper half of his right arm. You had only seen him in button-ups thus far and, even if he rolled up his sleeves, you somehow hadn’t ever noticed it. You were usually hyper-focused on his face, but at that moment, all you could see was the vast amount of skin on display.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” His stern words snapped you back to reality and you had to rapidly blink to regain a semblance of consciousness.

What am I doing? You shivered and grimaced at yourself for your intrusive thoughts before meeting his eyes.

“Uh-uhh I–” You halted your words when you noticed he was clutching something on his side. Curiosity got the better of you and you peered around his towering frame to see a soiled and basically useless bandage dripping with blood. “Holy shit! Are you alright?!” You said stepping towards him instinctively, catching yourself once he tensed and stepped back, correcting his posture as if to defend himself.

Psh, what could you possibly do to him? You couldn’t even defend yourself…

He glanced at the cloth he was currently pressing to his side and made a disgruntled noise. “I’m fine.” He said with a curt and slightly annoyed huff. “Why don’t you have anyone watching you right now?” He grumbled, obviously frustrated as he looked around behind you in search of your babysitter.

You furrowed your brows, still peeved but also worried about the still-bleeding wound on his side. “I had to sneak away because I don’t necessarily appreciate being babysat like a fucking child! Now you need to refresh that bandage before it gets infected!” You borderline shouted.

You could almost feel the daggers he shot at you with his eyes pierce through your flesh. “I said I’m fine! Now go back to be– Hey!”

You cut his sentence off short when you saw a first aid kit that looked like it had been through war and back on a small table behind him before you marched your way in, not giving two flying fucks that you were invading his room. “Get your ass in here, we need to clean you up first.” You demanded, collecting the kit and marching into what looked like the ensuite, completely ignoring his protests.

Jesus, is this much luxury even necessary? You thought as you passed through his behemoth of a room. Gray, white, and covered in smooth marble and chandeliers, it housed all of the amenities to be considered its own wing of the house. The gray material of the sofa and bed looked so soft and luxurious you were tempted to walk over and run your fingers along them. But that would have to wait.

He slammed his bedroom door shut with a huff and turned around. “You can’t just–!” You ignored him as you strolled into the bathroom (Still unnecessarily gorgeous).

“Just get your ass in here and sit!” You shouted from the bathroom. When you saw him stop in the doorway and glare at you, you just proceeded to open the first-aid kit and then pointed at the black and white marble countertop next to the sink. “Sit.”

He rolled his eyes before squeezing them shut and breathing out a slow sigh. “You… You’re a pain in my ass.” He groaned before dragging his feet over to you and hopping up to sit on the counter like you asked. If you hadn’t been right in front of him, you would have almost missed the slight hiss of pain he breathed through clenched teeth.

Why you had felt a pang of sympathy for the man, you had no clue.

He watched you apprehensively as you washed your hands and moved to face him. A brief moment of awkward silence had permeated the air before you tentatively raised your hands to remove the soiled bandage.

Minho visibly stiffened, but he made no move to stop you as your shaky fingers slowly peeled back the gauze.

Holy shit. That was 100% unmistakably a bullet wound.

Your mind was automatically transported back to that first night where you witnessed this guy casually gun down those men, effectively splattering five different brains on the fresh snow without even batting an eyelash. Who the fuck is Lee Minho? And what all was he capable of?

“If you’re going to just stand there and stare, then kindly leave me the fuck alone.” His gruff voice made you jump slightly as you were pulled from your thoughts.

You cleared your throat as you proceeded to throw away the red-stained dressing. You avoided his eyes as you grabbed the saline solution and a towel, still feeling his eyes bore into you with every movement.

However, you froze as you held the saline up to the mangled skin. “U-um… Did you take out—?”

“Yes, I already removed the bullet. Get on with it.”

Your stomach churned at his affirmation of the cause of injury, but you were getting sick and tired of his assholery as you glared up at his blackened eyes. “You know, a little gratitude goes a long way, shithead.”

He seemed stunned for a moment, looking at you as if you had gone crazy before returning to his deadly glower. “Look here, Tinkerbell—“ You bristled at that stupid-ass name again… “YOU’RE the one that barged in here. YOU’RE the one who has been a pain in my ass ever since you got here. So, no, I won’t give ‘gratitude’ where it’s not deserved. Plus, you’re the one to talk…” He murmured the last bit, but you still clearly heard him.

“Then why bother saving me in the first place?!” You basically screamed at him.

Silence and a shocked disposition was all you got in return.

“I had nothing to live for anyway, so why bother?! You could have just as easily ignored what was happening and went on your merry fucking way. Could have left me behind that dumpster to freeze and bleed to death so you wouldn’t have to deal with this ‘pain in the ass’. Could have also left me alone to OD and suffocate on my own vomit the other day. So what gives?” You finished with a seething remark while gesturing to yourself.

His face was stark blank. “You want to know why I saved you?” He said through gritted teeth. You just responded with a curt nod. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before his expression morphed into something more solemn. It seemed like he was having an internal battle before he began to speak. He finally sighed and leaned his head back against the wall mirror with closed eyes. “I once… I had a cousin, one that was very close to me. I would always be overbearing and protective and she would always tell me to stop babying her.”

He chuckled fondly as he reminisced and you found yourself latching onto his every word. You chalked it up to the fact that you were finally learning something about this enigmatic man and this whole fucked up situation.

“Anyway, as we got older and I got busier, I began giving her more space. She was becoming a woman and I accepted the fact that she could begin to take care of herself.” He paused, but considering the faintest waver in his voice and his dry swallow, it didn’t sound like it was because he was waiting for a response… “I thought she was safe… but there were… others… vile pigs that knew how close she was to me…”

Another beat of silence and you watched his face slowly morph from sorrow to unbridled rage.

“I found her in almost the exact way I found you…” His words felt like a punch to the gut and painful images flooded your mind as you swallowed the bile that rose to your chest. “But, in her case, the scum that had… done that to her had already fled and I… I couldn’t save—” He squeezed his eyes tighter and his jaw clenched hard around the emotions before they could spill out.

You both knew he didn’t need to finish that sentence.

You felt the numbness that had taken over your soul begin to crack once again at the feeling of sympathy towards his cousin, and that shit scared you like none other.

“So, yeah. You might be a raging bitch and I might be a pretentious motherfucker. But even so, I couldn’t just leave you… I just couldn’t…” You felt something churn in your gut and you furrowed your brows in frustration as to what it was. You watched him take a deep breath and sit up a bit straighter. “So, with that being said, I can’t just allow you to throw away everything you’ve worked for so far.”

As if indicating that he had enough of the back-and-forth, he attempted to grab the saline bottle from your hand, only to be met with adamant resistance. You gently pushed his hand away (thankfully without any struggle) and brought the saline and towel up to his ever-bleeding wound that was dripping down to the puddle it created, causing a concerning amount of deep crimson to flood the marble countertop.

You silently flushed the deep cavern with the solution until you deemed it was properly cleaned before moving on to the peroxide. “This might sting a bit…” You warned as you watched his jaw clench. He closed his eyes as you disinfected it and you wondered how he could keep so cool after having a bullet plunged into his side.

Once he was properly cleaned and covered in antibiotic ointment, you picked up the gauze and searched for some tape. Your eyes widened as he wordlessly moved to hand you a long compression wrap.

You emitted a noise that sounded somewhat like a sputtering engine and your face flushed as you saw his suppressed smirk. To wrap that thing around him, you would have to run your hands all over his muscled torso… fuck.

“Something the matter?” He lilted in that nonchalant, annoying timbre. Teasing. “If you don–”

“It’s fine!” You cut him off, maybe a bit too loudly as you refused to make eye contact. “It’s just… just… don’t you have any dressing tape?” You said as you coincidentally eyed his well-defined pecs and abs.

He shrugged. “Nope. Not with me anyway. I just have this—“ He said while waving the fabric in front of your face again with a challenging brow lifted.

You nervously chuckled and squeaked out, “O-okay… Stand up…” You instantly felt goosebumps rise all over your flesh as he hopped off the counter, keeping the gauze pressed to his wound, and stepped a bit too close for a man you barely even knew. Deep breaths, you can do this…

“Hey…” You slowly raised your eyes to meet his own at the sound of the softer change in his tone. He took the tiniest step back to make it easier for him to look you in the eyes. “If you're uncomfortable… I mean… I’m not…” You don’t think you had ever seen him struggle so much with his words. He sighed and closed his eyes before sadly looking at you again. “You have nothing to be afraid of with me… I wouldn’t even think of…” He huffed and shook his head in disgust as he seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing that had plagued you day and night since arriving here.

Before he could even drive his point home, you gently laid your hand on his shoulder, causing his gaze to return to you. “I know…” You replied. “You hardly scare me, Lee Minho.” You teased with a wry smile that even surprised you.

His disturbed face was slowly replaced with a pleasantly surprised grin similar to your own. You watched with feigned mockery as he raised the wrapping once again. “Then prove it, Tink.” You just scoffed and rolled your eyes at the shortened version of his unrelenting name for you and snatched the elastic cloth from his hand.

“Fine.” You huffed defiantly before looking at his abdomen once again. You tentatively pressed the end of the wrap against his heated skin that made you blush. You could feel him watching you and you suddenly felt like hiding.

You wrapped the bandage over several times, feeling yourself tense up every time you touched his bare skin, and secured it tightly once you were finished. “O—“ Your voice cracked when you tried to speak and your face heated as you cleared your throat. “Okay, you’re finished…”

You wouldn’t look him in the eyes, how could you after you basically forced him to let you run your hands all over his tan, muscular, and absolutely gorgeous skin?

“W—“ He hesitated and, despite yourself, you found your eyes instinctively seeking his own out to somehow read the words through his dark irises. You found he was searching your eyes as well with pursed lips before he looked away and cleared his throat as well. “Thank you.”

Huh?

“Channie-hyung wasn’t available when I returned home so I tried to take care of it myself. I guess my half-assed effort didn’t do much, huh?” He chuckled and looked back at you with a meek smile.

Who the fuck is this man and where did Lee Minho go?

He nervously chuckled and you realized you’d been staring at the man far too long. You took a deep breath and stepped back. “Well, I kind of owed it to you now, didn’t I?” You said it lightheartedly, but he furrowed his brows.

“You don’t ever have to owe me anything.”

You arched a brow, but he just turned and began packing away the first aid kit again. You watched his back, trying to remember why you came to his room in the first place. “Minho?”

He stilled his movements.

“What do you even do?” He turned and arched a brow at you and you rolled your eyes, stepping forward next to him to lean against the counter. “Like, you are obviously loaded…” You said gesturing to your luxurious surroundings. “You have a full staff with a doctor to patch up nasty bullet holes like this and god knows what else…” You both looked at his bandage. “And not to mention the bullets you cleared through those guys’ heads without even blinking an eye that night…”

He bit his lip and you followed the action with your eyes. You instinctively wet your own lips. After he was done staring at the marble countertop for an unnecessarily lengthy amount of time, he hesitantly turned his body to face you.

“You could say I sort of run something like a… secret organization?” He said tentatively like it was a question unto himself and you furrowed your brows.

You squinted skeptically at him. “So… you're telling me—“ Is that worry on his face? “—that you're a secret agent? Like a spy?” You looked at him in disbelief.

He sputtered a restrained laugh and looked at you with a suppressed smile. “I suppose you could say I’m like a spy.”

“LIKE a spy?”

He looked up like he was deliberating. “Sure. Like a spy.”

“But not actually a spy?”

He groaned at your questioning and ran a hand through his messy hair. Come to think of it, this is the most dressed-down look you’d seen on him. Gone were the button-ups and slacks, now replaced by sweats and a compression wrap over his shirtless body.

He stood straight and crossed his arms, obviously ready for the conversation to be over. “Does it matter? Look, it’s already really late and Yongbok will panic if he realizes you ran off.”

Oh shit, that’s right. That’s the whole reason you were even there. In Minho’s bathroom. Standing closely to him. With the man half naked and you in your flimsy, silk nightwear. Your peaked nipples seemed suddenly way more apparent as you crossed your arms over your chest. You rapidly blinked as if suddenly waking up and quickly stepped back.

“I-I wanted to ask you something…” He arched his brow and you continued. “Can you please call off the reinforcements? I know I made a bad decision and all, but I will honestly go crazy if I have to use the bathroom with the door open one more time.” You found yourself begging rather than demanding like you had initially intended.

Why, though?

He looked hesitant and you quickly added, “I don’t even mean all of the time! Like, I’ll keep my bedroom door open so he can check up on me and he can even watch me secretly while I’m around the house, I just want at least a little sense of privacy!”

You knew you sounded like a pathetic child, but you had resigned yourself to that fate as soon as you had to take a massive, violent shit earlier that day and you knew Felix had heard everything from the other room. Without any doors to create that sweet, sweet sound barrier? Ugh… You were still mortified to look at him.

You silently watched him with imploring eyes as he tiredly rubbed his brow. “You…” You widened your eyes with a hopeful energy pulsing through them, hoping to portray as such as he looked into your pleading eyes. He sighed. “I suppose those terms are fair…” You lit up like a Christmas tree before he raised a finger. “BUT, if you are EVER alone ANYWHERE, you need to let him know where you are and give him regular updates on your whereabouts to let him know if you are okay. Okay?”

You vehemently nodded your head and perked up. “Thank GOD!”

He smirked and crossed his arms again. “I think I like you calling me a god. Have I upgraded from a narcissistic asshole?” He tilted his head with raised brows and you were, once again, reminded how gorgeous this man really was.

You rolled your eyes and went to shove his shoulder, but before you could even touch him, he grabbed your wrist in the blink of an eye. For some reason, you both looked surprised as he froze with your wrist in his hand from less than a foot away. Your heart was racing and you chalked it up to being from fear of someone grabbing you.

But why did that conclusion not feel quite right…?

Before you could ponder it, he dropped your arm and quickly stepped away. “Fuck. I-I’m sorry.” He shook his head and you watched worry swirl in his eyes.

No…

No, you weren’t afraid of this man. You don’t know why, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you intentionally. Even after everything… “It was just instinct! I swear! I would never intend to—“

“I know, Minho.” You cut off his panicking, but his brows gave away his lingering concern. “I guess I’m just going to have to take your word for it on the whole spy thing, though, because those were super fast reflexes.” You chuckled to ease the tension and his face softened slightly.

It was silent for a moment and he cleared his throat again. “Well, I should walk you back to your room, it’s late and I’ve had… a very long few days.”

You took a large breath and promptly left the bathroom. “I’m perfectly fine on my own, you know?” There’s that twinge of irritation again…

”I know, I know. But if Yongbok is awake, I want to be able to ease his worries and update him on his role in taking care of you.

Taking care of…

Not treating, not monitoring. Taking care of. You supposed that’s what they were doing, huh? Felix was, in fact, doing much more than treating or monitoring. He waited on you hand and foot and you were being a bitch about it. You made a promise to yourself right then and there to let him know as soon as possible how much you appreciated his care and apologize for your behavior.

You nodded, both to yourself and to Minho’s reasoning before making your way back to your room with the mysterious and intriguing man just a few steps behind you.

__________________________________________

Felix was a saint. Not only did he forgive you when you apologized, but he went as far to say it was his fault for being overbearing. Which was obviously preposterous.

With your new parameters in effect, Felix decided to leave the estate shortly, before quickly returning with gifts for you. Among them were several jigsaw puzzles and you perked up at the sight of them. Over time, you had come to really appreciate those puzzles. So much so that you had already finished all of the ones currently at the estate, strangely enough. All kinds of different collections displayed on random tables throughout the mansion.

Felix was true to his word and gave you your space, only briefly giving you regular check-ups as you sat in one of the many living rooms that giant freaking place held and began the therapeutic work of putting together an adorable puzzle of a litter of kittens.

You would love to have cats…

When a sudden ruckus erupted down the hall, you furrowed your brows and looked behind you to the source. Down the corridor you saw the same seven men that you had seen regularly around the house (obviously minus Felix) dressed in what looked like active-wear gathering around the front entryway.

The men never approached you, but that was most likely because you tried to make yourself scarce once you saw one of them. Maybe Dr. Chris, Felix, and Minho you trusted, but you didn’t know those other men and it made you sick to your stomach thinking of being alone with a stranger without one of those three men accompanying you.

”Okay, guys, this is just routine training today, so no fire hazards, alright Hyunjin?” You heard Minho announce to the group.

Training? Like their super-secret-spy type training?

You felt yourself stand and march over to them without even formulating what you were doing. Who needs rational thought anyway?

If you were remembering correctly, the one named Jeongin spotted you first with a look of surprise. “Come. On. Hyuuung. We need to be prepared for anyth—“ Jeongin harshly elbowed the one who you assumed was Hyunjin and quickly spoke up.

’Hy-Mr. Lee, sir. I think someone is here for you…” He nodded a bow to you and you returned it, giving a meek smile to the group before meeting Minho’s gaze.

He looked slightly surprised before giving you… was that a smile? No, surely not…

You cleared your throat as Felix made his way over with hurried steps and a worried expression. You, then, glanced over at the other men who had become quiet as death upon you stepping up next to Minho. You scanned over them before slightly bowing. “Um… Good morning…” You introduced yourself before hearing a small ‘oh’ from the man beside you. You turned your head as he stepped forward and turned to face you again.

”I guess I haven’t really introduced them all to you yet… These are my… This is my inner circle.” He hesitated and turned to gesture to each of them. “Some I’m sure you already know. Like Channie-Hyung, Yongbok, and Jisung.” The three nodded politely with soft smiles. “But to formally introduce you to the others, this is Changbin…” The shorter, muscular man offered a shy smile. “Hyunjin…” Your eyebrows raise at the incredibly handsome man as his full lips formed a smile as well. “Seungmin…”

”Nice to formally meet you.” He said with an amused grin and you nervously chuckled as you informed him likewise.

”Then there’s our maknae, Jeonginnie.” Hyunjin cooed at the youngest when he also gave a shy smile and he received a death-glare in return.

All of the men remained incredibly polite, bowing their heads when introduced and maintaining their distance. Shit, they probably already know everything about you and your situation… especially considering the fact that no one asked you who you were or why you were there.

You guessed you understood and you were actually somewhat grateful. It saved you from having to explain it yourself and relive all of the pain again…

”It’s very nice to meet you all.” You gave the men a polite smile before turning to Minho again. You were on a mission. “Minho, can I please come train with you guys?”

You could hear a pin drop with how silent the room got. “You… you want to train?” You gave a determined nod before slumping your shoulders at his shake of the head. “No. No way.”

“What?! Why?!”

”Um, I think it’s best we head out first. We will meet you there sir.” The youngest quickly relayed before walking out the front door with the other men in tow, Felix quickly retreating to some other corner of the estate.

After watching the mass leave, you fixed your glare on Minho’s resolute expression. “Not only are you not employed by me, but you also have an injured arm—“

”It could be good therapy for me! And I can even raise it horizontally now!” You demonstrated the movement with gritted teeth, trying to hide the pain, and he responded with an unimpressed visage.

“You are already receiving therapy and you would just be a liability. So, no. End of discussion.”

A liability? Ouch.

You felt anger rise up in you and you took a step near him, his features remaining stone-cold. “You… You’re a… ugh!” You couldn’t even muster up the will to call him an asshole anymore. What the fuck was WRONG with you?

With the lack of anything better to say, you furiously stomped away up to your bedroom to fume in private, but not without flipping him off the entire way there.

__________________________________________

“Knock knock, love.” Felix announced before stepping through your open doorway. It hadn’t been long since you petulantly curled up on the plush armchair by your window to angrily watch the rain outside.

Of course it would rain. Apparently fate had decided to mock you as if you were an actress in some sort of sad music video. Surely Felix would agree.

You watched with hesitancy as he held out his hand to you. “Follow me.” He said calmly with a smile. “I want to show you a new room.” You perked up at that notion. You had been running out of places to explore recently and the prospect of seeing something new was like a kid going to a playground.

You took his hand and allowed him to lead you to one of the many locked double-doors on the estate. What you saw made you gasp in awe. Bookshelves upon bookshelves lined the walls of a massive, two-storied library that was stocked to max capacity with what looked like brand new books as well as older than hell pieces of literature. All surrounding a cozy living area with couches, armchairs, and even a fireplace.

”Minho-hyung must really trust you to let me show you this. These books mean a great deal to him and many of them are extremely fragile as well.” He trusts me? You thought as you watched Felix’s eyes widen. “I-I mean Mr. Lee…”

You furrowed your brows and turned to him. “Why do you do that?” You asked and he just blinked at you with worry written on his features.

”D-do what?”

Playing dumb, are we? “That! Those other guys do it too! Why don’t you just call him Hyung? You all are obviously close. Why try to hide it?”

Felix nervously rubbed the side of his neck and looked down. “It’s not like we are trying to hide it, necessarily. We are just trained to remain professional. It’s just much harder when we are all home and much more relaxed.”

You nodded your head in understanding. “But why do you try to hide it with me? I’m not exactly here on business.” You arched your brow and he smiled sweetly.

”It…” He seemed hesitant to speak until he sighed and lowered his head. “If we keep things professional with you, it might be easier when we have to see you go…” You were taken aback. Easier? Is he saying they would miss you? Why? You were a nobody, and you were honestly kind of a bitch. No, that can’t be it.

”What do you mean by easier?”

He seemed confused by your question. “When you spend so much time with someone, it’s easy to get attached. Even the coldest heart can find warmth in someone they find trustworthy and important.”

Trustworthy? Important? You? What in the world did you do to earn those titles?

Felix must have read the disbelief on your face because he continued. “You and I have spent a lot of time together over the past months. I’ve learned a lot about you and your habits.” You blushed. He most definitely knows a lot about you. He’s seen a lot too. “I know you are a good person. I have an eye for these things.”

He winked at you and you huffed a chuckle.

“And Minho-hyung knows you are a good person too. He just has a different way of… expressing his feelings.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “No, it’s true! We discuss you and your progress often and the kind of leniency he gives you in this place is unheard of for anyone other than our circle. Even some of the house staff haven’t been allowed in some of these rooms you’ve seen.”

What on god’s green earth did you say to them to trust you? I mean, of course they can trust you. You bear no ill will toward any of them, not seriously anyway. But why do they think so? Felix could definitely see the confusion on your face when he gently placed a hand on your upper back and guided you two further into the treasure-trove of books.

“Don’t think about it too much, love. Just know that everything we do, we do out of good and pure intentions.”

You definitely thought about it too much.

__________________________________________

You were determined.

You were going to get out of that damned house, even if just for a minute, whether he liked it or not. By exploring the house, you ended up finding a board room, like true business-official type shit. A long table surrounded by office chairs and even a projector screen. And with a small tip from Felix, you knew they all happened to have a meeting that morning.

An actual business meeting. Not the one including half-naked women this time.

So, after gearing up in some serious workout attire, you marched yourself to that exact room, not even bothering to knock. You were on a mission. ”Lee Minho, I demand to be included in your training. I won’t take no for an answer!”

His were the first eyes you seeked out when you entered the room and you willed yourself to not back down.

You, then, remembered the presence of the other seven men in the room and how silent everyone had become. It was as if they thought, if they move even slightly, all hell would break loose. And by looking at Minho’s facial expression, they might have good reason to think as such.

”I. Said. NO. Now please see your way out. As you can see, we are clearly busy.” You were pissed, no, more than pissed, but you squared your shoulders.

However, before you could utter a word, Jisung spoke up. “Hyung. I think we should let her. She is obviously passionate about it.” Minho glared at his friend and then back at you. He was silent for a moment, as if he was deliberating, before speaking again.

”No.”

”FUCKING HELL, MAN! I have been sitting on my ass here for months now for a reason I’m sure everyone here already knows about—!“ You watched guilty expressions color the room. “—and now that I’m getting better, you’re not going to help me defend myself if something like that happens again?” You witnessed his eyes widen as a traitorous tear fell down your cheek. “Fuck. You. Lee Minho!”

Resilience be damned, you were itching to escape that suffocating room and the problem within it. You stormed away once more with a harsh slam of the door and a burning fire inside you fueled by hate and anger.

Fuck this.

__________________________________________

You felt a plop on the couch next to you and you jolted in place with a tiny squeak.

After the meeting room fiasco, you had been spending all of your time in the library. You were so immersed in your book that you didn’t even realize there was another presence in the room.

With a quick whip of the head and an incredulous look on your face, you watched Minho smirk next to you in amusement. “For someone who is super quick with their tongue, you sure are slow with everything else.” He chuckled as you came down from your fright and you placed a hand on your rapidly beating heart.

That motherfucker just about killed you! Well, not literally, but still! You closed your eyes to collect yourself before opening them again to glare at him.

However, instead of that same annoying smirk, his face turned into one of regret. “Shit, I’m sorry… I didn’t even think if that would make you… fuck, I didn’t—“

”It’s fine!” You quickly cut him off, knowing where he was going with that statement. “I-I’m fine… you just startled me a bit.” You calmly placed your bookmark before turning back to him with narrowed eyes. He looked a bit more relieved.

”Still, I need to be more… considerate.” He looked down at his hands, avoiding your eyes. “In more ways than one…” You furrowed your brows in suspicion before he returned your gaze once more. “I’ve thought about it a lot and I realized that I haven’t necessarily been easy on you throughout all of this. I might have played a part in helping you physically, but I didn’t consider how this would all affect you mentally.”

You were speechless. Was this the same man? He’s actually being… remorseful…

“So, yeah. Sorry about all that…” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck while averting his eyes. He clearly wasn’t used to apologizing so much. “I, um… I wanted to ask you if we could, like, start over?”

You had never seen the man fumble so much since meeting him and it was quite a refreshing sight. “Why? Are you about to drop another ridiculous rule on me and you’re just saying this to lessen the blow?” You huffed a bitter chuckle.

You could see his temper start to rise before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m saying this…” There was a slight edge to his voice before he opened his eyes again with a much more gentle demeanor. “—because I am tired of us butting heads.” He slumped into the backrest and you arched a brow. “And also because you were right.”

Okay. Something is seriously wrong.

”I thought it would be dangerous for you to train with professionals and be subjected to a room full of random men.” He limply turned his head your way while remaining melted into the cushions. “And yes, there will be other men there. All of my subordinates use this training center. It’s one of my most used gyms for my… industry.”

You scoffed. “Pft. ‘Industry’” You mocked with finger quotations.

He smirked. “Yes. Industry.” His face gradually returned to a more serious disposition. “There is also the matter of secrecy.” You nodded your head. Yeah, that made sense considering his occupation, but who were you going to tell? “Not saying I don’t trust you—“

”Why do you trust me?” You blurted, the question still buzzing around in your mind like an annoying pest. He furrowed his brows as if he didn’t understand. You continued. “Like, yeah, I get why you saved me now and all, but why do you trust ME?”

His brow slightly softened and he cleared his throat. “Y-you have given me no reason not to trust you. Why? Did you do something?” He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “No, asshole. It’s obvious to me that you should trust me, but you’re just going to take my word for it? You must be a really shitty spy.” He guffawed loudly, sitting up with a bright grin as he seemed like himself again.

”You haven’t seen what I can do, Tinkerbell.” You rolled your eyes, but you did find the notion intriguing.

”Oh yeah? What can you do?” You could see a spark light up in his eyes as he stared into your own and you had to gulp down the saliva that pooled in your mouth from the sight.

”Well…” He shifted to face you, elbow now propped up on the back of the couch. “You’ll get to see some of it when we train you.”

You felt your heart jolt. “When you train me?” You felt the corners of your mouth slowly lifting and his followed right behind.

”We leave at noon. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” He mused.

”No! No, I want to!” You looked at the clock. 11:30. Shit, he couldn’t have told you a little sooner? You sprang to your feet and he stood as well. “Just let me go change and I’ll meet you in the foyer.”

He just gave you a brief nod before turning on his heel and leaving you giddily buzzing in your skin.

__________________________________________

Somehow, you had plenty of options to choose from, but you opted for a simple T-shirt and joggers. Not the cutest, but who were you trying to impress?

A vision of Minho flashed in your mind and you reeled from the thought. Ugh. Why did my head think of HIM? In fact, why were you thinking so much about him in the first place? You chalked it up to it being from interacting more frequently nowadays. Yes. That must be it. You resolutely threw on a hoodie over your shirt and marched your way to the foyer.

“You ready? It won’t be easy.” He said from where he was leaned up against the staircase banister. You took in the sight of his workout attire, not really taking the time to fully appreciate it until now.

He wore a loose pair of sweatpants and an airy tank top that allowed you to gaze at his intricate sleeve of tattoos once more. He would almost look human if he hadn’t been blessed with his other-worldly beauty.

You blinked away the thoughts and gave a firm nod to him in response. “I don’t want easy. I want effective.”

He smirked and stood up straight when you approached. “We’ll see soon how confident you are in that statement.” You glared and he gestured his head. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Instead of heading out the front, he made his way further into the house. You furrowed your brows. “Where are the other guys? And where are you going?”

”Tsk. So many questions!” He mused and grinned at your responding scowl. “The guys are already there and, as to where we are going…” He stepped up to a large door located in the next room and opened the door for you to enter first, your face surely gawking at the luxury. You heard a chuckle from behind you. “Your reactions are always so adorable.” He smoothly teased.

EXCUSE ME?!

You whipped around and glared at him as he just continued walking past you. “Now…” He turned back to face you again. “Which one do you want to take?” He said plainly as he gestured to the plethora of extremely expensive cars.

The garage definitely looked like it belonged in a spy movie, but you were stumped. He said he was like a spy. Not a spy. Like a spy. You were still racking your brain as to what that meant.

Your eyes grazed over the fancy marble interior of the museum-like garage and the cars on display. How can someone have this much disposable income?

You didn’t know the first thing about cars, why did you have to pick?

When you just pointed to some random car, he raised his brows. “Really? The Rolls Royce?”

“Well, shit I dunno! Why do I need to pick? You obviously know more than I do when it comes to this!”

He cackled and led you closer to your chosen car. “Oh, I know waaay more than you, Tink.” You grumbled and he chuckled as he opened the door for you, letting you slide into the disgustingly luxurious vehicle.

”Why do you even have all of these cars? Don’t you have someone else to drive you?” He donned a cocky half-grin when he slipped into the driver seat.

”Sure, when I’m on business I do. But we are just going to train.”

In the blink of an eye, his face was directly in front of yours as he reached across you, eyes fixed on your seatbelt strap as he grasped the material. As soon as he stretched it across your body, he seemed to notice your surprise.

He froze, blinked at you rapidly, then quickly averted his gaze back down to the strap to buckle you in. He cleared his throat and gulped before starting the car. “Plus…” He added with a slightly strained voice. “It’s not nearly as fun riding as it is driving.”

__________________________________________

“Was the bag seriously necessary? Who would I even tell?!” You seethed as you threw the black, silky fabric at him.

Before you two even left the driveway, he forced you to shove your head in a stupid black hood so you “couldn’t know the location” once you left the estate later. You told him that it was unnecessary and stupid, but the man insisted.

You ripped the damned thing off as soon as he put the car in park.

”Have you forgotten what I told you? About my work? Why are you surprised with the secrecy?” He explained calm and composed as he discarded the bag in the car again.

”Well then blindfold me next time! I could barely breathe!” You were over exaggerating, of course. That material was extremely airy and breathable, you just wanted to feel superior to such treatment.

”Well excuse me, your highness…” He rolled his eyes as he pulled out his keys and walked up to the door of a large, nondescript, concrete building. Unlocking and opening the door for you, he gave you an exaggerated bow.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you passed the threshold, and marched into what looked like a massive gym complex of some sort.

However, the entire building was devoid of life. Of course that’s not including the seven familiar figures you saw fighting on the far end of the room. ”I thought you said all of your employees train here?” You said with an arched brow.

Minho passed you with a shrug. “Not today they don’t.” Well that answered nothing…

”Hey there, girly! Ready to get that blood pumping?”

”Calm down, Changbin. She is still going through therapy, remember?” Dr. Chris told the younger muscle man from where he was doing crazy heavy deadlifts off to the side.

”I know, I know, grandpa.” Changbin smirked at the doctor’s glare. “But just remember: ‘What hurts today makes you stronger tomorrow.’”

The other men groaned in tandem and you found yourself slightly smiling. “That’s a great motivational outlook, Changbin.” You said to the group as you watched Changbin’s face light up.

”Okay, enough, enough.” Minho declared. “Today’s training is obviously a bit different than usual.” He gestured vaguely at you. “We have a base level trainee and she needs to be trained from ground zero.” He gave you a side-eye and a cocky smirk. “Maybe even lower than that…”

”Hey!” You made a move to give him a lighthearted shove, and then was immediately reminded of what happened last time as his hand shot to your wrist to stop the action. You tried to free yourself, but his grip was like stone. “Let me go, asshole!”

”Make me.” He said as he suddenly faced you, pulling you closer. “Come on, show me. What would you do if you wanted to be released?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. Any move you could possibly make would be caught by his cat-like reflexes. You just challenged him with your eyes before his own softened, along with his grip on your wrist.

Just as your wrist was released he gave you a couple pats on the head. “Don’t worry Tinkerbell. I’m sure you will figure it out eventually.” You just about growled at him as he walked over to stand by Chris who was now seated on a bench nearby. “Channie-hyung and I are just here to observe and critique ALL of you, so do your best.” The man made an annoyed expression and waved the back of his hand in front of him. “Well? Get on with it!”

With that, you found yourself surrounded by six (frankly gorgeous) men looming over you.

“Hey! Back off! Don’t all go at her at once! I said ground zero you pabos!” Minho shouted from the sidelines before the others retreated and Changbin stepped in front of you.

”Calm down, Minho. This is what I’m here for.” You breathed in a resolute huff and nodded at Changbin. “I’m ready.”

__________________________________________

“Watch out for her arm!”

…

”Don’t actually try to hurt her, idiot!”

…

”That’s too rough!”

…

The entire training session Minho had shouted at each and every one of the men trying to teach me at least once and it was growing tiresome. “Why even let me train if I can’t even, I dunno, actually train???” You grumbled at the stubborn man as the group was taking a break. “I have legitimately learned nothing with the parameters you have set!”

”For real, hyung. You aren’t letting her show her full potential. She needs—“

Minho instantly cut Changbin off. “I will decide what is needed and I think that it would be better for her to just watch for now. It’s obvious that she is not ready.”

”WHA—?” You squealed with widened eyes and a disbelieving expression.

”Actually, I think she is doing quite well in her recovery…” Dr. Chris stated matter-of-factly where he stood next to the other six men drenched in sweat.

You watched Minho slowly turn his murderous expression to the doctor, but you stepped into his line of sight before he had the chance to retaliate. “Please let me continue… I promise I will take it easy, I just…” You looked down at your restless hands before returning your gaze to his blackened irises. “This is just really important to me…”

You watched as the man’s face minutely softened and glanced at the seven men around you that also awaited his instruction.

”Please?” You implored, not used to such pleading from your end. His eyes darted back to you before he moved to rub his temples with a sigh.

“Fine.” He groaned. “But base-line self defense only. We can move on to more advanced training once you have recovered a bit more.”

You don’t know why you felt such relief come over you. Maybe it was the satisfaction of even marginally getting through to him, but you let a wide grin escape as your body involuntarily moved to hug the man.

What the fuck?

Just as quickly as you embraced the man, you retreated just as fast with furiously heated cheeks. Why in the world did you do that? You were FAR from hugging terms with him! He probably just about shot you in the head from the unexpected touch!

However, you couldn’t help but notice the citrus and sandalwood scent emanating from his solid, warm body. His skin felt like flames against yours and you welcomed the heat. It didn’t last long, but the simple contact with him made your blood boil and quickly reddened your entire face.

When you pulled back and cleared your throat, you witnessed a millisecond of bewilderment on his stone-cold face before it was immediately schooled back into place (but that did nothing to cover up his bright red ears). “Th-thank you.” You mumbled before you escaped to the water fountain that was, blessedly, on the other side of the room. Never mind the fact you had a water bottle already with you by the group…

__________________________________________

By the time you and the rest of the boys finished (which was a very productive start if you do say so yourself), Minho had informed he was called in for an unexpected ‘business meeting’ across town and that training would finish early for the day as he needed to take a couple of his men with him.

You were a bit disappointed, but at least you got to do something. Which was more than you expected honestly.

As you requested, you were blindfolded for the car ride back instead of the stifling bag he donned you with on the way there, but you rode back with only five of his men instead.

You could feel all of their eyes on you as you rode in silence. Jeongin drove the unnecessarily expensive limousine, Changbin, and Hyunjin sat across from you, and Felix and Chan bracketed you on each side.

The silence was even more suffocating than the bag you wore earlier as you felt yourself start to become antsy. “For the love of god, please someone say something! I feel like I’m an exhibit in a museum right now.” You whined and buried your face in your hands (even though you couldn’t see anything anyway).

”And what a lovely piece of art you are, darling~” Hyunjin lilted before you heard a slap of skin and an over dramatic squawk from said man.

”Yah! Don’t be a creep!” You heard Changbin exclaim as the precious Felix giggled next to you.

”It was supposed to be a compliment!” You heard someone click their tongue before Chan decided to speak up.

”It’s interesting isn’t it…” He commanded the whole group’s attention with practiced ease and you quickly realized the hidden influence this man had over the lot of them. Which would make sense due to the fact that the doctor had probably saved most of, if not all of their lives at some point in time. “I haven’t seen or heard of Minho ever taking it easy on a trainee before… Most of them have to come see me even after their first session with him.”

”For real though, the man is ruthless with everyone else! He will even push them through the pain of broken bones!” Hyunjin exclaimed incredulously.

”He wants to make sure they are prepared through anything, even excruciating pain.” Jeongin stated simply from the driver’s seat.

Holy shit, these guys are no joke! “What the fuck? Why can’t he do the same with me?!” The entire car went dead silent in response. You could feel the annoyance creep into your bones. “Is it because I’m a girl? Seriously?!”

You heard Felix scoff next to you. “As if.” He sputtered in amusement. “The female trainees are some of the toughest among all of us.”

Then why?

”Maybe he just has a soft spot for you…” You heard Hyunjin mumble and you outright cackled at that one.

”Are you kidding?! Have you seen the way he treats me??” You question with an incredulous chuckle.

“You never knooow~” Hyunjin stated with a teasing lilt to his voice before you heard another smack.

And before another word could be said, your blindfold was removed and you were ushered into the estate once more.

A soft spot? What a joke.

__________________________________________

I hope you guys are happy with the turn-around. 😏

I’ve missed you all so dearly and I apologize for the wait. 🥺 I would say that the next part will come out sooner, but I don’t want to guarantee that if life decides to fuck with me some more. 🙃

As always, please like, follow, and share!

Thanks baby Stays! Love you and missed you guys! 💋😽💋

And of course my squad and tag list:

@lyramundana

@channieandhisgoonsquad

@moonlightndaydreams

@queenmea604

@sweetracha

@rylea08

@maknaeswrld

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

[konigsblog]

please write kidnapper könig + noncon and degradation

TW/CW; NON-CON, DEGRADATION, KIDNAPPING. DARK FICTION. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. MDNI 18+

Kidnapper-König attempts to stay calm and relaxed, especially with your constant, loud sobbing, your screams for someone to save you.

He understands that you're in such a vulnerable state, snatched away from society and locked away in the chamber downstairs for his own use and enjoyment, for him to love and dote on. He can see how mortified and frightened you are at his presence, how you avoid his sweet, lustful touch and squirm through disgust and displeasure when he continues to grope you for his own sick benefit.

He's eerily quiet, only the sound of heavy breathing coming from the man towering above you, smiling at you in a perverse way that leaves your bottom lip quivering. His watchful and protective gaze doesn't falter, he has security cameras installed inside the basement to eye you up and jerk himself off to the sight of your fear, riling himself up with his fantasies and the way he yearns for control. Something about raping his sweet victim entices König, encourages him until he can't control his frustration and resist the need to claim ownership over his captive.

“Quit your crying, Liebling. I know for a fact you can take this. Now, hush and obey.” König grinds his teeth together at your behaviour, how you wriggle through the splitting agony between your soft legs.

Your hands are pinned down to the metal table, your legs dangling off and pressed to your chest, with a ball gag silencing your loud squeals and pleas. The blood running down your thighs stains his hands, and although shame leaves König horrified as he brutalises his sweet girl, he can't control himself. His thrusts only quicken, with his swollen and bulbous cock swelling inside of your pussy, sore cunt. Arousal leaves König's core tight as he feels himself lose control inside of the warmth of your little pussy, ignoring how glossy your loveable eyes have become from his cruelty.

You can feel the tip press against your sweet spot, causing moans to flow from your mouth loudly. Shame fills you, disgust and guilt leaves you overwhelmed. Feeling aroused by your assault leaves your stomach churning, nausea leaving you light-headed, the blinding light above you worsening your throbbing headache. He runs his soft lips down your neck, licking up your jaw to your eye, cleaning your face from your tears. His teeth nip your bare skin, staining it with his sinful and lewd touch.

Truthfully, König hates seeing you in so much pain, but the sight of your terror arouses him in shameful, taboo ways he can't explain.

“Take every inch. I know your pussy can take it, even if you hate every second of it.”

[cameronfever]

rape cameron recording reader while raping her, forcing her to pretend she likes it or he’ll “kill her”. she’s sobbing and screaming, bleeding and all but she’s still telling the camera how ‘good’ it feels for the sake of her life, though it feels like rafe is gonna fuck her to death regardless

tw: noncon/rape

you wonder if it’s possible to taste the blood you’re sure he’s scraping from your cervix, mouth numb and coppery, swollen from pained attempts to make rafe’s explicit violence seem pleasurable— performance entirely pornstar title worthy.

rafe pinches your thigh out of frame, the flash impeding onto your retinas to a point he’s learned you’ll only respond to physical stimuli, and that was your queue to be louder, make it sound better for him and his kook trio to jerk circle to later.

“gonna tell them how much you love this dick?” like it’s already an inside joke between him and the viewer, your violation will always be their entertainment (as long as they can continue to pretend otherwise though).

spittle crowds your face and it’s suffocating, so claustrophobic you can feel your organs shifting underneath the palpable skin of your stomach, dick probing so deep he’s probably already crushed your poor spleen to force space.

you want him to stop. want to say it at least, proclaim something egregious to the camera— maybe tell them about his humiliating coke dick and concerning fascination to rape porn — so that he’d be forced to scrub the footage.

you can’t though, he sees it in your eyes too and it only makes him laugh into the speaker and pat your cheek hard enough for your head to sway.

“you should smile more, they’re gonna start to think you aren’t enjoying this hm?”

[nottsvampire]

stalker!theo who has never been good at multitasking so he makes his best friend mattheo cover your mouth while he rapes you

tw noncon/rape

ARGHHHHHHH yea this is hot. theo who abuses your tight cunt until it’s sore n mattheo who wraps his hand over your mouth while stroking his cock at the same time. your screams and cries are muffled by mattheo’s hand, and when you manage to bite into his flesh, it only turns him on more as he condescendingly laughs at your pathetic attempt to break free.

theo, so focused on you, completely forgets mattheo’s presence at this point— his eyes fixated on the way his cock disappears into your pussy, a sight he’s fantasized about countless times while stroking himself. he promised himself he wouldn’t lay a finger on you without your consent, but how could he not when you’ve been teasing him for months? naked polaroids left on your desk, touching yourself while he’s watching through your window. surely, you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and he couldn’t control himself any longer. he was going to have you, with or without your cooperation

[astarionancuntnin]

Die For You Masterlist

summary:

the ascension changed the person Astarion was, or so you believed. you broke up and parted ways after defeating the netherbrain, thinking it was for the best, but when you see him again six months later at the reunion, you realize you never truly moved on. and neither did he.

current state: COMPLETED SERIES

word count: 50k~

pairing: astarion x fem!reader (implied fighter!tav (slight body description) with noble background). contains some shadowheart x fem!reader

rating: explicit (but a few of the first chapters are tame, those rated E for smut and graphic violence will be highlighted on the list below)

major tags/cw: 18+. angst, smut, lovers to exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, assault, possessive behaviour/sex, progressively soft!ascended astarion, blood/vampire bites, graphic depiction of violence, noncon, good ending. full list available on ao3.

read on ao3

back to writing masterlist

read on tumblr:

Prologue/Chapter 1 - The Reunion (rated E)

Chapter 2 - The Meal

Chapter 3 - The Invitation

Chapter 4 - The Ball (tw: attempted r@pe)

Chapter 5 - The Aftermath (rated E)

Chapter 6 - The Plan (rated E)

Chapter 7 - The Afterlife (rated E)

Chapter 8 - Retalation (rated E)

Chapter 9 - The End Of All Things (rated E tw: rape & torture)

Chapter 10 - Reconsideration

Epilogue - Forever After (rated E)

playlist below the cut~

the playlist:

prologue: track 1 - 10

chapter 1: track 11 - 22

chapter 2: track 23 - 28

chapter 3: track 29 - 36

chapter 4: track 37 - 40

chapter 5: track 41 - 48

chapter 6: track 49 - 55

chapter 7: track 56 - 65

chapter 8: track 66 - 74

chapter 9: track 75 - 80

chapter 10: track 81 - 84

epilogue: track 85 - 91

[konigsblog]

Ok ok so I LOVE Puppy!Soap and Reader with Owner!Simon but what if the reader was a kitty instead??

tw: rape, noncon, hybrid fucking

you're always so sensitive, so skittish. when johnny attempts to hold you down, desperate to slide his thick and stiff cock into somewhere - anywhere - and you're squirming and hissing at him. baring your teeth in fear as he shoves his big cock into your transparent panties, collecting your slick and desperately attempting to push inside.

you don't let him in without a struggle. your sharp claws dragging down his skin making him whine needily, catching his tangled fur. he's too fucking stupid to realise you don't want this — that this isn't just a game, that you're not playing hard to get! he takes your struggle as a playtime, not realising how your ears are low and your tail is puffed up in fear.

when he gets you on your back, you're left with no choice but to succumb to his desired, depraved needs. johnny's clawed paw grips your fluffy tail, panting heavy with drool rolling down his chin, slobbering all over himself. groaning with relief, finally finding your tight hole and pushing inside. this is the exact reason hybrid dogs shouldn't be fucking the hybrid cats; they're used to rough play, never taking ‘no’ for an answer!

you whine and cry, hissing and trembling as he begins fucking into you. too bad your owner — simon — is drinking beer on the couch, unaware of what his horny mutt was doing to his precious, little cat. :((

[forwhump]

a/n; in case you wanted some batshit story advancement 😛 & point pov !!

tw/cw: rape, noncon, transphobia, misgendering, dehumanization, beheading, skinning, repeated major character death, captivity, guns, attempted forced impregnation, humiliation, kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of medical torture, mentions of beastiality

creepy whumper, really emotionally unwell whumper, living weapon whumpee

Point urges the girl beneath his desk to keep moving with a hand to the back of her head and watches, irritated, as the freak experiment turns itself sideways to fit through the wreckage of his office doorway.

Fuck, it’s big. His men had talked about it, to him and amongst themselves — the district’s new prized possession, the meat Weaver’s oh so proud of, big and deadly. Point is a good fuckin’ soldier and a great fuckin’ captain, without the help of steroids and fuckin’ mad scientists. He didn’t care about the freak and he didn’t care to marvel about it. He didn’t flock to the gallows to watch its field tests the way some of them did; he didn’t watch them from behind the safety of the security cameras like some of the others.

They’re all afraid of it. Point has thought, until now, that it was weakness, and he’d been embarrassed for them. But he’d only only met it once, and it had been on its knees, bound and prone. Even on its knees, it had been taller than him, but Point still hadn’t grasped how big the thing was, not truly.

Not until now. Not until he has to look up, up, up at it, head angled almost all the way back. It isn’t weakness that have his men so afraid of it; it’s loathsome. It looks like the maniac from an old slasher movie, dripping red, hair plastered to its face and the sides of its throat. Nobody had raised an alarm, which means they hadn’t had the time. It hadn’t given them the time.

“What?” Point asks. He keeps his voice flat and his eyes hooded.

It cracks its neck and says, “you have something that belongs to me.”

Beneath his desk, the girl tenses. Point can feel the warmth of her breath as she exhales, “Silas?”

Something folds in the freak’s face, something that Point would never admit makes the back of his neck start to prickle with cold. It looks at him like he’s prey, and it’s convincing. Point almost believes it.

He threads his fingers through the girl’s hair, pushes his dick into her throat to keep her quiet, and raises both his eyebrows. “The girl?” He asks, skeptical, because her mouth is so warm it pulls focus from the cold at the nape of his neck. It’s such nonsense that he rumbles with laughter and the girl chokes in his lap. “Fuck you, you’ve got a thing for the girl.”

Like she would be worth all this fuckin’ trouble — like she would be worth any trouble at all. Really. He laughs and it’s in good humour.

But the freak isn’t kidding. The freak is dead fuckin’ serious. It takes a step closer and Point isn’t laughing anymore.

He quickly lifts his other hand. He points his cherished handgun. “Fuck you,” he repeats slowly. “You’ve got a thing for the girl.”

It’s fuckin’ serious. It’s standing here, making a mess of Point’s office, after having massacred Point’s men, and for what? For what? “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he says, even though he knows it isn’t. “She’s a whore,” he tells it. “We found her on the floor of a crack house”

The thing tilts its head and it looks like a nightmare. “He’s mine.”

There’s something so definitive in its voice that Point forgets all about being cold. It sounds so sure, so smug that it stokes something under his skin that makes his blood boil. “She’s mine,” he snaps, and puts a bullet in the freak’s brain.

The sound is like a crack of thunder and the girl chokes again beneath his desk, panicked. She tries to pull away but Point fists a hand in her hair, keeps her still, and watches the freak wipe blood from the bullet hole between its eyes with the back of one hand.

It stays standing. It stays on its feet. It looks right at Point and it grins with all its teeth. It has dimples, and for some reason that could almost make Point vomit. It’s the most grotesque part of the whole disgusting patchwork. “Gonna have to do better than that,” it says, and it has the low, distorted voice of a monster.

Point roars in frustration. He has to empty his gun into the thing’s face before it finally stops coming for him.

Under his desk, the girl trembles with crying, and Point pushes himself back with a boot to the side of it to look down at her. He almost softens; she really is such a pretty little thing. Her mouth is swollen and her eyelashes are clumped together, sad and scared. It doesn’t cool Point’s blood by any means but it’s a heat he more enjoys. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for the freak,” he warns, and pulls her up by the throat.

He bends her over the desk so she has an unrestricted view of the meat, dead and cooling on the concrete. There’s so much blood the room smells too rich of it. The girl cries, trembling beneath him, pleading, shrieking, fighting, and it almost makes all the commotion worth it.

He forgets about the freak sack of meat. There’s a blissful time, before it’s constantly a problem, that Point is able to forget about the freak. That it doesn’t haunt his every waking moment, or any of the sleeping ones, either. There’s a blissful time that Point can still look at the girl and not think about that fuckin’ thing.

Then they move it formally into his unit. It’s assigned to his care.

He trusts her, too, that’s where he fucks up. She’s usually a good girl; it had taken a lot of time and a lot of discipline, but Point had trained her well. She’s usually on her best behaviour. She screams and she fights still, sometimes, but that’s because she’s such a spirited little thing. It’s been fun trying to break that.

When he’s done with her, he leaves her on the floor of the common room, because he was decent enough to even bring her back. She’s still conscious, but just barely, whimpering and pliant, and it’s one of the ways Point likes her best. It’s hard to let her go.

He shouldn’t’ve. He knew better.

But he had already fuckin’ killed the thing, sprayed the concrete walls of his office with its brains, fucked the girl in a pool of its blood after he’d fucked her over the desk, just to make extra sure they both really learned the lesson they needed to learn.

He gives them both too much credit, that’s where he fucks up. They aren’t smart, not at all, neither of them. They don’t learn. It doesn’t seem like they ever think very critically.

He leaves the girl on the floor of the common room, and he doesn’t think about the freak. Blissfully, he doesn’t think about the freak at all. Doesn’t consider him for a second. Sidles back to the barracks, sated, and lies down on sheets that are still wet, that smell enticingly like the girl. One of her socks had been kicked off in her struggle and Point thumbs over the damp argyle, pleased.

When the alarm is raised, when the lights start flickering red, he still doesn’t think of the freak, not right away. He sighs and pulls himself out of bed again, pulls his kit back on, thinks that one of the other losers in his unit found the girl and panicked. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He’s wrong, though. Still blissfully naive.

The alarm is a resounding panic and the lights all flash red and frantic. The freak is a silhouette from a nightmare, standing at the end of a long, empty corridor. He walks towards Point slowly, unhurried, and Point stands his ground, refuses to be intimidated by this sack of meat and steroids, but it’s a nightmare the way it stalks closer to him, the way it gets bigger the closer it gets, disappearing into the shadows in the half seconds between panicked red light.

What the fuck? Point thinks, and exhales softly.

“What have you got there, big guy?” He asks.

It lifts its right hand, and the whole thing is so surreal that for a second, Point just stares, he doesn’t process.

Heads. It’s heads. The heads of Point’s men, men he had been with just hours ago, not cleanly severed but ripped off their shoulders with inhuman force. It has its fingers twisted in their bloody hair, and when Point looks back up into its face, it grins widely. It has a horrible grin. Too human.

“For Wren,” he says.

“What?” Point repeats. “The girl?”

It lifts its chin at him. “I just need one more.”

Point groans loudly, tipping his head back. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he says. “This is about the girl? Come on.”

It raises an eyebrow at him, almost impatient, and for some reason that makes Point start to prickle, heat blooming at the nape of his neck.

“You’re a fuckin’ disgusting eye sore,” Point says. “A real ugly piece of shit, right? But she’s a whore. She’s easy. She’ll fuck you, too. You don’t have to do all this bullshit to try and impress her.”

It tilts his head, and the way it moves is inhuman. Might have to do with the fuckin’ mass of it — how can anything that big move in a way that’s human? Is it even bigger than the last time Point killed it?

“I don’t like the way you talk about him,” it says, and that ignites a rage in Point that almost makes him shriek. What gives this fuckin’ thing the right —

“Boo fuckin’ hoo,” he snaps, and the only reason he doesn’t die in the corridor that day is because responding artillery finally finds the freak, and blows both his kneecaps out from behind.

He drops, roars like a wild animal. Drops the heads when he’s commanded, folds both his hands behind his own head. Doesn’t look away from Point once, and Point has to curl and uncurl his fists to try and burn off some of the simmering fury that stokes in him.

“Better luck next time, big guy,” he sneers.

But the freak grins. Dimples. Lifts his chin at Point. “Next time,” he agrees, and it sounds like a threat.

Point waits until the freak’s nose is to the concrete before he stomps down onto the back of his head with all his weight.

It doesn’t have the effect he wants it to have. He breaks the freak’s nose, but it rumbles with laughter beneath him, mocking.

He barely makes it back to the barracks before he finally shrieks in frustration.

“Please,” she whimpers. She looks especially pathetic. She’s wearing Point’s favourite gingham dress, on her knees, flushed with crying. Normally, this is how he likes her best, but it prickles at a nerve that makes it almost annoying.

His lip curls. “Look at you,” he says, and her shoulders hitch as she sobs. “How can you debase yourself like this for that thing?”

Her wrists are knotted together but in front of her, so she has her fingers twisted desperately into Point’s pants. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth — normally, he’d love to have her like this. He never gets to have her like this. But it’s ruined, and it’s ruined because of that fuckin’ thing.

“Please,” she sobs. “It’s my fault, it’s my fault! Don’t hurt him.”

“I know it’s your fault,” Point sneers. “This is all your fault. Couldn’t keep your fuckin’ legs closed and now you’ve got a rabid guard dog.” Her touch is warm through his clothing and he wishes that was good enough. “And what happens to dogs once they start to bite, baby? What does animal conservation do for rabies? You’re smarter than this.”

Her hands are shaking but that isn’t good enough, either. “Please.”

The freak, her fuckin’ dog, it’s never been worth any of the trouble that follows it, any of the fanfare, the medical marvel, but it’s worth less now, twitching as it bleeds to death on the filthy concrete.

It just doesn’t know when to fuckin’ stop. Most of the skin had been stripped from his chest and his right arm. The left side of his throat had been torn out. A decent chunk of his scalp is hanging loose off his skull, and blood is pooling in every dip and crater of his face, pouring from his mouth as he coughs and sputters and vomits up more and more.

Still, it keeps trying to get up. Still, it keeps moving. It just won’t stay down.

He strikes her harder than he means to, knocks her to the ground in his frustration, and when she cries out, her ugly fuckin’ dog tries to pull its ugly, skinned corpse up from the pool of its blood, almost ankle deep.

“Silas,” she breathes, pushing herself up quickly. “Silas, don’t —“

“No,” Point interrupts, watching with wry amusement. “Let it try.”

She sobs, trying to grab his leg again but he pushes her away with the side of his boot.

“Look at it,” he tells her. “Is it really worth embarrassing yourself like this?”

She sobs again, pulling herself through its pooling blood on her hands and knees, ruining Point’s favourite dress with the remnants of that thing. “Silas,” she breathes quietly. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Most of the dog’s throat is missing, and it can’t talk beyond low, wet rumbles of sound. Still, it lifts a hand from the concrete, its arm trembling with blood loss. Still, it cradles the girl’s cheek in its hand.

It’s disgusting, really. Point can’t even imagine the way that thing must smell. It smears blood across her soft skin, gets gore in her pretty hair. It trembles, and it’s too big, it’s grotesque, its hand is bigger than her delicate head and still, she leans into its touch. Still, she covers its disgusting hand with both of her own. She cries for it.

“Pathetic,” Point snaps.

She doesn’t look at him, she doesn’t take her hands off of it, and Point is across the floor in a second, wrenching her from its grip with a fist in her hair. She reaches for it, cries out, and it reaches back, stretching a shaking hand out across the concrete. Point crushes its elbow with his boot and all his weight, and the girl screams as it roars in pain.

Point rubs his heel into the broken chips of its bones and says, “any last words, mutt?”

The girl reaches up, tries to grab his hand, gasps, “please, Darren, please, don’t — don’t —“

The dog lifts its other hand from the ground, mostly skinned, flesh hanging from his bones in wet flaps. It lifts its middle finger, and Point roars in frustration. He empties his gun into the freak’s right eye, and only then, finally, does it stop moving.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Point says softly, rubbing his mouth with a hand gloved in leather.

He looks between them, and it’s like seeing for the very first time, so many small details that it’s almost overwhelming, all of them high definition.

How many times have they done this? How many times do they have to do this, still? It swings wildly between moderately inconvenient and a blood bath, a slaughter of Point’s men. His numbers have been dwindling, and every recruit he brings on is too green, too scared of the freak, not quick enough to stop him. They’re dead almost as soon as they’re assigned to Point.

Point isn’t an idiot, but maybe he was too hopeful. Maybe he had too much faith in the girl. Maybe she’s more manipulative than Point ever gave her credit for. The dog is dumb, big and simple, mean and bloodthirsty, and the girl is pretty. Gentle. A whore. It hadn’t been hard to piece that puzzle together. She’s using the dog, taking advantage of it, fucking it into shape as her attack dog and it’s too dumb to know that’s what she’s doing, too dumb not to let itself be used.

Except he looks between them now, and he was wrong. He isn’t stupid, but they’re both so much stupider than he had ever thought they might be. The girl is so much stupider than Point ever would’ve thought. He looks at her, clinging to its corpse, its massive head in her lap. She keeps running her fingers through its hair as its body starts to rot before it’s even cooled and the water from the shower beats down around them both. It almost makes him sick. “You really love that fuckin’ thing.”

It had been sick for a while, a reaction to something the surgeons had given it that had to work its way through its system, eating away all its arteries and organs before they could start again with him, figure out where they went wrong. Point had allowed the girl to look after the thing, given her as much space as he could give her because he thought she was smarter than this. He thought, watching it rot, she’d finally see the freak for what it really is, for how much it doesn’t deserve even a glance from her direction. She might be stupid, but she’s better than this.

It makes his skin crawl. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he repeats, a little more acidic. “The dog? You fell in love with your fuckin’ dog?”

She lifts her head to look up at him, her hair plastered against her face with the water, so light in colour it almost looks translucent. “Leave him alone,” she says, and he doesn’t like the way that she speaks to him, unafraid, almost flat. “He’s already dead.”

“It won’t be dead long enough,” Point says.

She doesn’t stop running her fingers through its hair. She cries for it. She mourns it.

Point spends the next three days frantically trying to fuck the apathy out of her, but it doesn’t work. She doesn’t stop mourning the dog until Point finally chokes her into unconsciousness.

“I want you to take her off her birth control,” he says.

Medic’s face doesn’t change. He looks at Point once, up and down, and says, “fuck no.”

Point fuckin’ hates Medic, and he’s constantly reminded why. He’s too belligerent for somebody whose life is in Point’s hands, and Point has never been known for being particularly careful. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Okay?” Medic says, and one of his eyebrows lifts, but just barely. “I said fuck no.”

Point can’t help it if his jaw twitches. He knows what Medic is up to — he knows he’s got a thing for the girl. He does this whole knight in shining armour thing to try and get to her, almost the same way the dog does. Pretend to be her hero, get into her pants. It’s bullshit — Point’s never pretended to be a hero and he’s in her pants more than any of them. They’re all wasting their time, and it fizzles under his skin that any of them think she would be worth all this fuckin’ trouble, that she’d be worth any of their lives at all.

She’s a whore. A legally dead, fuckable cut of meat. He found her on the floor of a crack house. Point saved her, really. Point rallied for her brother’s life — to keep her pliant, but he rallied all the same. He was supposed to have killed her on site — he saved her life. He saved her. She owes him her life and he owns her for it. All this wasted time and pretend chivalry is really starting to piss him off.

“You work for me,” Point reminds him through his teeth.

He kind of turns his mouth down, dismissive. “I work for the team,” he says. “I’m not your GP.”

“I think,” Point says, “maybe it’s time the team was assigned a new doctor.”

“Yeah?” Medic asks. “Just wait till the new guy finds out you’re harbouring biological contraband.” He raises his eyebrows, taunting. “And that you’re trying to get it pregnant.”

Point goes as far as to reach out to him before he manages to catch himself, straightening the collar of Medic’s black coat so he doesn’t strangle him to death on the floor of the medical wing, making eye contact the whole while. “She’s mine,” he says, “and I can do whatever I want to her. I don’t understand what you people aren’t understanding about that.”

Medic leans back slowly against his desk, folding his arms over his chest. He doesn’t like Point, either, and he’s never pretended otherwise, which Point just doesn’t like. The belligerence, the disrespect — when is enough enough? What does a guy have to do to be given the respect he deserves? That he’s earned? He’s their fuckin’ captain, for fuck’s sake. “Do you want my opinion?” Medic asks. “As a medical professional?”

“No.”

“I think you’re losing it, Point,” Medic tells him evenly. “I think you have been for a long time. I thought you snapped when you cracked his pelvis in half, but that was just the first sign something was wrong. You can’t keep going like this. You can’t keep treating a human being like this. Something’s gonna give. And it’s not gonna be Silas.”

“Silas?” Point repeats, temper spiking. “What the fuck does the dog have to do with any of this?”

“You’ve gone too far,” Medic warns. “They might have to put him down but he won’t go until he takes you with him. It’s up to you to decide how much it’s gonna hurt.”

“Fuck you,” Point snaps. “This has nothing do with the fuckin’ meat. It’s about the girl, and how her piece of shit GP is gonna take her off her birth control if he doesn’t wanna die like a fuckin’ dog.”

Medic exhales softly, shaking his head. “Fuck no,” he says.

Point leans down, gets into her face, and screams, “why?”

She flinches away from him as best she can, bound and gagged. Her eyes are huge, lashes clumped together with crying. Naked except for the argyle socks, pulled up over her knees. She looks especially pathetic and Point wants to enjoy it. He wishes he could enjoy it.

But it’s hard not to look into her and think about her fuckin’ dog. It’s ruined her. Point looks at her and it’s hard not to imagine its disgusting hands on her skin, the way she cries for it, the way she probably moans for it, too.

“WHY?!” He screams again, and it’s hard to even delight in the way she recoils, sobbing through the gag.

It isn’t fuckin’ fair. That disgusting fuckin’ patchwork dog. That failed fuckin’ experiment. That filthy fuckin’ sack of shit. It’s brutish and stupid and there’s always fuckin’ blood on its hands. And the girl happily opens her fuckin’ legs for it? She loves it? She lets it touch her and she touches it in turn, this fuckin’ freak that looks like an old movie monster.

He shouldn’t have to fuckin’ share her with it. It’s fuckin’ ridiculous.

“The fuckin’ dog?!” He shrieks, and he doesn’t mean to hit her, not really, but he can’t help it. He can’t look at her and not imagine the way she looks at that fuckin’ thing. “What does it have that I don’t have?! It’s a fuckin’ dog!”

He grabs her by the shoulders, tries to shake some sense into her. He spits in her face and the way she flinches does nothing for him. “You’re disgusting,” he spits. “You dog fucking whore. You disgust me. The fuckin’ dog,” and he groans so hard he can feel it in his fillings. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

She chokes out a sob beneath the gag, muffled, and Point grabs her around the throat to muffle her still. “That was rhetorical,” he spits. “I know what the fuck is wrong with you. You were a whore when I saved you and you’re a whore now. But dogs? You’ll even fuck dogs?”

He spits in her face again and her throat bobs beneath his hand. “I know what I have to do to fix you,” he tells her. “I know. I can make you settle down. You could settle down! You wouldn’t have to be scared all the time! Wouldn’t that be so nice, baby?” He coos at her, but the more he talks the quicker he talks, increasingly frantic, the harder he grips her throat. “Wouldn’t it be so nice not to be so scared? No more violence, no more crying. You wouldn’t have to worry about your creepy male delusions. We could set you up in a nice little room off my office,” he coos. “You’d be safe there. You wouldn’t have to be scared. You could take care of our babies. Don’t you think we’d make such beautiful babies?”

Her shoulders shake as she sobs beneath him, her face flush with Point’s grip around her neck. “But no,” he spits again, fever spiking. “You’d rather fuck dogs, wouldn’t you? What the fuck?!” He leans in closer to scream in frustration. “Stupid bitch. What the fuck? You’d let the dog knock you up, wouldn’t you? Bet you’d give it a fuckin’ litter. Why not me?! What the fuck?!”

He squeezes her around the throat tighter than he means to and screams again once he realizes she lost consciousness.

He turns her over so he doesn’t have to look at her face as he pushes her bare thighs apart. He really fuckin’ hates her sometimes.

He has a vision of her on a farm.

He thinks it’s the accent that brings it out in him, because he’s never dreamed about living on a farm before, but he looks at this girl, soft and sweet, young and blonde, and he wants her barefoot and pregnant on a farm somewhere, and he wants it so bad he dreams of it and his dreams are so vivid he could almost convince himself they’re memories from another life. He wants her in a short, pleated dress with an apron. He wants the little farm girl braids and he wants in her cowboy boots. No panties, because he wants her free use.

They’d be happy. Point knows they would.

The life he’d built with his wife was a lie, because he didn’t know yet what he really wanted, he hadn’t yet met this girl. He’s never been so stupid about a girl before — he’s never yearned. He’s never felt like this.

He thinks about miles of lush grass and big, open sky and looking up at it, framing the girl as she rides him. He thinks about high socks and high ponytails. He thinks about bending her over their big wraparound porch.

It’s these thoughts that carry him as he dumps her unconscious body in his trunk.

Furlough. He never told his wife he’d applied, so she isn’t expecting him. It’ll be a good few weeks before anybody really notices he’s missing, and they’ll be long gone by then. They’ll have moved on to their next life.

His tires squeal as he peels onto the highway and the girl’s body thuds in his trunk. A thrill runs through him, one he hasn’t experienced since that very first day, since she first looked up at him, all pretty and terrified, from the floor of that crack house. He did what the dog failed to do, time and time again — he got her out. He saved her. He gets the happy ending.

He laughs out loud. He has a full tank, an endless stretch of highway, and a pretty, naked girl bound in his trunk.

Point fuckin’ did it.

He won.

That fuckin’ dog can rot for all he has to care anymore. Point won.

[ardentpoop]

(TW incest, SPN discourse and rape) Feel free to ignore this ask if it makes you uncomfortable. But what’s your thoughts on the idea of Soulless Sam losing his inhibitions and so giving into his darkest desires, and sexually assaulting Dean (which is how the vampire turning scene is read). I often see this tied to the idea that because of the incestuous deal and Azazel’s blood, Sam’s tainted and has this inherent darkness, specifically playing around the idea Sam’s sexuality is dark and perverse, and he harbours these feelings towards Dean and desires to assault him but feels shame and guilt for it. But as Soulless Sam he doesn’t. This reading always felt a little weird and uncomfortable to me but I couldn’t put into words why

oh good I thought for a second that you were asking me abt this (popular and bad) take bc you enjoy it 😭

it’s not the incest and the quote-unquote perversion that I have a problem with but as usual the fandom’s dogged attempts to invert samndean’s power dynamic while failing to recognize how the narrative actually utilizes sam’s role vs dean’s, thus uncritically doubling down on the Righteous Man vs Boy With The Demon Blood dichotomy. dean-biased viewers “love” soulless!sam because they can point to him and go see, that’s the Real Sam, Sick And Twisted Freak Corrupting Dean’s Innate Goodness All Along, which is frankly so unforgivably disgusting to me that it makes me want to spit. I’ve played with this concept myself thru fic but as a belief that sam holds about himself (and that, for the record, dean also holds about himself - it’s just that each of them deals with it differently in keeping with their contrasting roles and with the power dean has in the relationship that sam does not.)

I could write the billionth essay about soulless!sam vs demon!dean except with the canon’s Us And Them framework in mind as well as the audience’s predisposition to overlook sam’s abundant nuances to be able to characterize him in a “worse” light than dean while inventing dean nuances to be able to “justify” their often superficial preference for him, but I don’t fucking feel like it. those who get it get it and those who don’t will never care to; my 10-year break from the fandom sadly proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

all that to say, I’m fine with reading arousal into soulless!sam’s response to dean’s noncon vampire-turning that he stood by and watched, because who cares, that’s fun to me. he should’ve been worse. hashtag fujosam moment. what I’m NOT fine with is the dean queens ravenously seizing on this moment as “proof” of Poor Sweet Angel Baby Kisses Dean’s helplessness/submissiveness in the relationship as a whole, because that is flat-out fabricated bullshit. like, early s6 features some of the most interesting dean characterization in the show to me in that the narrative actually intentionally punishes dean for the “substandard masculinity” represented by his break from hunting/his life with lisa and ben, and this assault scene is very much a part of that. it is so much rarer throughout the course of this show for dean to be subjected to that type of “indignity”/“emasculation” relative to sam, and this is a function of their respective roles, and it is why this particular scene is so obnoxiously buzzed-about by this insanely dean-biased audience.

btw, what does dean do in response to his pent-up fury at the helplessness he feels because of this assault and the events surrounding it? he quite literally beats sam to a bloody pulp, before cas even informs him about sam’s “soullessness” (definition flexible). he ties sam up in a chair and tells him he’s not letting him go no matter how nicely he asks and barks at him like he’s a worthless monster and coolly instructs cas to Probe Him for answers without his consent, because again, that is a consistent part of sam’s role that you are meant to contrast with dean’s. furthermore, he threateningly tells sam he’s gonna watch every move he makes from that point forward and demands that he runs his every decision by dean because his sense of right and wrong cannot be trusted. like can we examine this on a metaphorical level Just A Smidge, for me?

anyway TL;DR as usual I can’t believe I actually think this but this audience at large is incapable of handling the complexities of these characters as they are presented in the canon, and so few people write S/D fic in a way I can actually stomach or appreciate that I have to write it myself for the minority of readers it appeals to. I didn’t even touch on the massive problem I have with dean and thus the fandom reinforcing sam’s belief in himself as Unclean/Impure due to an event that occurred when it was impossible for him to consent, OR on the implicit homophobia underpinning dean’s vampire-turning scene and really that whole episode, because who has the time!!!!

[serickswrites]

Whump Series

Eyes--status complete. 8 parts. TW: kidnapping, self-sacrifice, coma?, blood, weapons, honestly this is magical shit so i have no idea how to tag it, some team elements, but not overt team whump

Roadtrip--status complete. 12 parts. TW: kidnapping, restraints, drugging, sexual assault, rape, non-con, stabbing, blood, hospital, dehumanization, gagging, creepy/intimate whumper, escape attempts (I hope I got all the tags). Has some team elements, but not overt team whump

Annoyed--status complete. 6 parts. TW: captivity, torture, whipping, blood, creepy/intimate whumper, sexual assault, noncon, videotaping, rescue

Fit--status complete. 5 parts. TW: kidnapping, captivity, restraints, muzzle, noncon, sexual assault, physical assault, drowning, collapse, broken bones, implied hurt/comfort/hurt/aftermath/hurt/recovery

Nothing--status complete. 7 parts. TW: emotional manipulation, noncon, dissociation, physical violence, broken bones, bruises, choking, suffocation, emotional whump, caretaker and whumpee

See--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, blood, rescue, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery. Has team elements, but is not team whump

Where--status complete. 4 parts. TW: blood, torture, captivity, emotional whump, hospital, unclear character status at the end

Mutual--status complete. 7 parts. TW: kidnapping, captivity, restraints, whipping, blood, knives, beating, bruises, wounds, suffocation, choking, rescue, explosion, self-sacrifice, video tapes, emotional whump

Prepared --status complete. 3 parts. TW: mcd, blood, emotional whump

Know--status complete. 6 parts. TW: blood, kidnapping, torture, restraints, two whumpers, rescue, hospital

The Gift--status complete. 7 parts. TW: captivity, torture, physical violence, blood, noncon, buried alive, two whumpers, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hospital

Alive--status complete. 5 parts. TW: torture, captivity, restraints, water torture, electrocution, hospital, emotional whump, self sacrifice, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, rescue. Has team elements, but is not team whump

How--status complete. 6 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, whipping, blood, wounds, botched escape, actual escape, two whumpers

Take--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, torture, rescue, scars, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt recovery. 

Dearest Forsaken--status complete. 10 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, gore, knives, physical violence, electrocution, drowning, choking, white torture, sensory deprivation, rescue, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery. Has team elements but is not team whump.

Late--status complete. 2 parts. TW: drowning, kidnapping, cpr; rescue. Has team elements, but is not team whump

Dramatic--status complete. 4 parts. TW: hostage situation, self sacrifice, guns, gunfire, gunshot, blood, mcd. Has team elements, but is not team whump.

Choke--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, choking, strangulation, drowning, passive suicidal ideation, temporary character death, cpr, rescue, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Rescue--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, failed rescue attempt, torture, blood, wounds, sickness, rescue, hospital. Has team elements, but is not team whump

Bloody Valentine--status complete. 6 parts. TW: mcd, blood, gore, wounds, kidnapping, physical violence, hospital, yandere whumper

Hunger--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, starvation, cruel whumper, fawning, feigned fawning, restraints, rescue, hospital

Ice--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, escape/rescue, drowning, hypothermia, cpr, mcd. Not team whump, but has team elements.

Secrets--status complete. 5 parts. TW: kidnapping, restraints, blood, torture, forced to watch, rescue

Want--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, kidnapping, yandere whumper, physical violence, drugging, sexual assault, noncon, rescue (x2), MCD, knives

Good Times, Bad Times--status complete. 6 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, noncon, two whumpers, sadistic whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, rescue

52 Weeks--status complete. 8 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, blood, wounds, video tapes, rescue. Not team whump, but has team elements.

In Plain Sight--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, torture, blood, wounds, burns, restraints, medical care, hospital, caretaker and whumpee

Not of This World--status complete. 10 parts. TW: kidnapping, captivity, blood, murder, death (not mcd), noncon, aliens

Say It--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, knives, blood, wounds, unconsciousness, emotional whump, escape, hospital, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee. 

Morning --status complete. 5 parts. TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Reaper at the Gate--status complete. 7 parts. TW: restraints, blood, torture, captivity, botched escape attempt, physical violence, electrocution, drowning, illness, fever, rescue, caretaker and whumpee, unclear character status. Not team whump, but has team elements.  

The Sea Inside--status complete. 9 parts. TW: blood, wounds, stabbing, potential drowning, captivity, torture, cruel whumper, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee (mostly comfort tbh)

Legends Rise--status complete. 8 parts. TW: public humiliation, whipping, torture, restraints, blood, stabbing, knives, unconsciousness, defiant whumpee, threat of death. 

Song of the Siren--status complete. 6 parts. TW: yandere whumper, captivity, magic, soul sucking, manipulation, drowning, implied mcd. 

Awake--status complete. 6 parts. TW: head injury, drugging, broken bones, noncon, yandere whumper, unclear character status. 

Come On--status complete. 5 parts (including epilogue). TW: captivity, blood, wounds, infection, bandages, drowning, knives, stabbing, mcd, grief, mourning, hurt/no comfort, caretaker and whumpee. 

Every Breath--status complete. 5 parts. TW: referenced torture, referenced captivity, sick fic, medical whump, yandere whumper, drugging, creepy/intimate whumper, unclear character status. 

Royal Pain--status complete. 6 parts. TW: torture, restraints, bruises, blood, wounds, emotional whump, cruel whumper, self sacrifice, mcd, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/no comfort. 

This Means War--status complete. 8 parts. TW: kidnapping, torture, choking, strangulation, restraints, unconsciousness, rescue, caretaker and whumpee, hospital, unclear character status (multiple)

Secret Agent Man--status complete. 7 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, broken bones, bruises, wounds, injury, blood, knives, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, rescue, caretaker and whumpee, two whumpers

On a Limb--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, rescue, broken bones, amputation, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Lethal Weapon--status complete. 7 parts. TW: conditioning, manipulation, captivity, hidden injury, gunshot, blood, wounds, unconsciousness, hospital, self sacrifice, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath. Team elements, but not team whump

The Night We Met--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, noncon, blood, wounds, drugging, mcd, two whumpers, creepy/intimate whumper, cruel whumper

At Last--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, torture, wounds, blood, bruises, unconsciousness, hospital, escape, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Words--status complete. 2 parts. TW: emotional whump, threats, torture, captivity, restraints, wounds, blood, stab wounds, mcd, grief, hurt/no comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Once and for All--status complete. 7 parts. TW: kidnapping, restraints, gags, physical violence, torture, blood, bruises, broken bones, noncon, choking, unconsciousness, mcd, two whumpers, hurt/no comfort

Forever--status complete. 5 parts. TW: yandere, drugging, magic, poisoning, unconsciousness, self sacrifice

Stuck On You--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, broken bones, escape, hospital, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, two whumpees

Quake--status complete. 3 parts. TW: earthquake, head injury, blood, unconsciousness, rescue, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hospital. 

Undercover--status complete. 3 parts. TW: blood, gunshot, wounds, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, blood, gunshot, mcd, hurt/no comfort

Grateful--status complete. 3 parts. TW: referenced torture, referenced captivity, scars, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Chatter--status complete. 5 parts. TW: restraints, torture, exposure, hypothermia, unconsciousness, noncon touching, noncon, escape, defiant whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, hurt/aftermath

Higher Love--status complete. 7 parts including epilogue. TW: captivity, torture, drugging, noncon, sexual assault, rape, hospital, rescue, dissociation, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee, yandere whumper, cravings, substance abuse, recovery.

Sweet Nothings--status complete. 2 parts. TW: injury, hospital, unconsciousness, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Hook, Line, and Sinker--status complete. 8 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, gag, self sacrifice, torture, stabbing, blood, gun, gunshot, mcd, hurt/no comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Touch Them--status complete. 7 parts including alternate ending. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, unconsciousness, blood, head injury, forced to watch, choking, strangulation, suffocation, begging, noncon, rape, broken bones, mcd, caretaker and whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper. Alternate does not have MCD

Are You Scared--status complete. 2 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, buried alive, temporary character death, cpr, rescue, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

On Three--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, strangulation, broken bones, physical violence, escape

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, blood, nail, wounds, rescue, unconsciousness, physical violence, unclear character status, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Ready, Set, Go--status complete. 8 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, suffocation, asphyxiation, unconsciousness, rescue, physical violence, temporary character death, cpr, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Two Birds, One Bullet--status complete. 6 parts. TW: captivity, threat of death, forced to watch, self sacrifice, gun, gun violence, falling from a great height, potential mcd, blood, broken bones, torture, gunshot, gunshot wound, blood, unclear character status, hospital, intubation, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Compass--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, hunting, cruel sadistic whumper, pursuit, gun shot, unclear character status

Close--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, forced to watch, electrocution, forced to hear, rescue

Unhand--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, self sacrifice, physical violence, unconsciousness, blood, burns, cuts, appears to be mcd, but is not actually, nightmares, rescue, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

In Your Arms--status complete. 3 parts. TW: kidnapping, torture, restraints, bruises, beating, rescue, gun fire, gunshot, blood, wounds, bleeding out, unconsciousness, temporary character death, cpr, hospital, bedside vigil, emotional manipulation, self sacrifice, lies, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Still With Us--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, rescue, unconsciousness, hospital, bedside vigil, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort

Make Me--status complete. 8 parts. TW: captivity, yandere, burns, threats, torture, restraints, scars, knife, cuts, cutting, blood, rescue, hurt/aftermath

You're Awake--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, blood loss, rescue, unconsciousness, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

So Tired--status complete. 7 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, gag, burns, unconsciousness, video recording, rescue

Miss Me?--status complete. 7 parts with alternate ending. TW: presumed dead, restraints, kidnapping, drugging, captivity, torture, physical violence, broken bones, blood, mcd (alternate ending does not have mcd), alternate ending has rescue and hospital.

Strength in Your Bones--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, rescue, unconsciousness, blood, bloody nose, hospital, poisoning, imprisonment, coma, unclear character status

Tender is the Night--status complete. 5 parts. TW: self sacrifice, restraints, gag, kidnapping, captivity, torture, physical violence, bruises, escape, rescue, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

We've Had a Good Run--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, drowning, temporary character death, rescue, cpr, failed rescue, mcd, hurt/no comfort

Shake and Shiver--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, torture, forced to hear, cruel whumper, sadistic whumper, caretaker and whumpee, electrocution, dislocation, escape, rescue, blood, bruises, wounds, unconsciousness, mcd, grief, hurt/no comfort

Silence--status complete. 3 parts. TW: betrayal, physical violence, drowning, unconsciousness, rescue, hurt/aftermath

Electrify--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, electrocution, forced to watch, revenge, mcd, hurt/no comfort

Frozen Tears--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, unconsciousness, implied noncon, hypothermia

Heavy Burden--status complete. 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, botched escape/rescue attempt, strangulation, cruel whumper, blood, cuts, wounds, mcd, escape, failed rescue, hurt/no comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Walk--status complete. 4 parts. TW: hostage situation, held at gun point, threat, threat of death, gun shot, collapse, blood, unconsciousness, unclear character status

Devil's Advocate--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, self sacrifice, knife, torture, physical violence, failed rescue, forced to watch, strangulation, mcd.

Thin Ice--status complete. 3 parts. TW: captivity, torture, brands, burns, restraints, cruel whumper, hurt/no comfort, mcd

You're Doing Great--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, torture, restraints, drugging, lab whump, cruel whumper, cpr, mcd

Twenty-Three and Me

All Quiet--status complete. 4 parts. TW: escape attempt, torture, captivity, restraints, drugging, experimentation, blood, broken bones, unconsciousness, physical violence, blood, forced to watch, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, guilt

Let Me Help You--status complete; 2 parts. TW: bruises, blood, broken bones, unconsciousness.

Another catatonia request--status complete; 2 parts. TW: referenced torture, referenced captivity, catatonia, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Dangerous Game--status complete; 3 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, threat of death, pursuit, escape, stabbing, blood, mcd, hurt/no comfort, failed rescue

Lonely Place of Longing--status complete; 17 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, dehumanization, manipulation, torture, blood, unconsciousness, wounds, medical care, gore, stabbing, cuts, knife, gun, gunshot, cruelty, heartbreak, self sacrifice, mcd, cpr, failed cpr, heartbreak, hurt/no comfort. Living weapon whumpee

Electric Feel--status complete; 5 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, electrocution, incontinence, drowning, gag, unconsciousness, rescue, cardiac arrest, cpr, mcd, hurt/no comfort

It's Over--status complete. 4 parts. TW: captivity, restraints, torture, blood, knife, stabbing, wounds, mcd, rescue, hospital, revenge, recapture, unconsciousness, unclear character status, rescue, too late rescue, mcd, grief, hurt/no comfort

Lake Lachrymose

On My Way--status complete. 2 parts. TW: threats, fear, rescue

Antidote

Rope

Wake Up--status complete. 2 parts. TW: implied kidnapping; mcd; noncon drug use; poison, grief, mourning, presumed dead, betrayal, kidnapping, implied future torture, unclear character status, drugging

[3-2-whump]

(Re)Living a Nightmare, part 2

<prev next>

You're still here? Okay, it's not gonna get any better for our poor boy. Do read and heed the tags/CW.

Basic Summary if You Decide to Skip

Also please skim this chapter and this chapter if you haven't already, because they will be referenced heavily in the story coming up

TW/CW: rape/noncon, bound and gagged and blindfolded whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, knife play, neither safe nor sane nor consensual, blood (lots of blood), victim blaming, internalized victim blaming, whumpee and whumper unknowingly triggering each other, blunt force trauma to the head (face), panic

NOTE: The inner thoughts and opinions expressed within do not align with those of the author, who themself has never and would never condone such thoughts and opinions in real life. Reader Discretion is advised.

All Thomas asked of him was to change into clothes he wouldn’t mind replacing, which usually meant that whatever Khaled wore would be torn/burned/ stained so irreparably that it’d just be thrown away after. Already based on that request, Khaled could guess he was in for a rough night. He had no idea how much worse it could get until he was blindfolded, bound, gagged, and carried out the apartment and down to the cold garage, where the hard foot-well of the back seat waited for him. The car revved to life, and his restrained body lurched forward as Thomas pulled out of the garage and drove them to fuck knows where.

Eventually they came to a stop, Thomas exchanged some words with the night-shift guard at the old house, and then they kept going until they parked. Khaled slowly started to put the pieces together. They were back at the old house, which probably meant Thomas wanted to take him downstairs, which meant whatever he wanted to do to him would be too messy or too specialized to do back at the apartment. What is he planning? Khaled wondered. He’s asked me to wear my most expendable clothes, he’s tied me up like I used to be when I was recaptured, he’s thrown me into the back like when I was recaptured-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening. He blindly tilted his head toward the chill of the night and the distant sound of frogs singing. A pair of calloused hands hauled him up from the foot-well of the back seat and slung him over a broad shoulder. “Thought you could escape me this time, did you?” his master’s voice purred in his ear.

A pit of dread competed with the chill of the early spring night in his bones as Khaled realized what all this preparation had meant. Master wants to roleplay my escape attempts. He began shivering, though not just because of the cold. A warm hand rested on his buttocks to steady him as he felt himself being carried inside, through the hallway, and to the front of a very familiar door. Reliving his failed escape attempts but with an added sexual element was one of Khaled’s recurring nightmares. What cruel irony was this, that he had begged so enthusiastically no more than half an hour ago for this man to make his nightmare come true?

The familiar creak of a door opening preceded the dusty, dried-blood smell coming from the stairs leading down into the cellar. Khaled pleaded through the rag stuffed in his mouth and the tape sealed over his lips as they descended the stairs step by concrete step. He tugged at the zip ties binding his wrists and ankles, but all that did was dig the hard plastic further into his flesh.

The cellar in the basement was the only room in Luciano Antonio Costa’s old house that didn’t get renovated when they converted the rest of it into an office space. Mainly because its purpose as a room for torture and interrogation never went obsolete. Khaled didn’t have to see it; he’d been down in the T&I cellar enough times to have the layout committed to memory. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps hung by thick chains, illuminating the large expanse below. A fireplace and all its accompanying iron tools sat to the left, and a rack lined with various instruments of torture was positioned to the right. In the middle was one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and many other types of equipment were either shoved in a corner or hanging from the ceiling, suspended by heavy chains and hooks like morbid chandeliers. Partitioning a back portion of the room was a large iron gate leading to a small offshoot of the basement, much like a door to a prison cell. Not much lay beyond the iron gate besides a hard-worn bench and several opaque plastic storage tubs full of mysterious items.

Khaled squirmed as he was lowered onto his stomach on top of the familiar table. “What were you thinking,” scolded the nightmare looming above him. A faint swish of a pocket knife and cold steel next to his skin made Khaled pause his struggles as his master cut away the zip ties. “Escaping in this cold weather without so much as a scrap of clothing on you –did you even have a plan?” he taunted. “I don’t know what your plan was, or even if you had a plan, but was it really worth freezing yourself to death?”

Khaled enjoyed the freedom of his unbound limbs for only a moment until his wrists were snatched into a tight grip and gathered in front of him. A coarse and scratchy material –rope, most likely –began entangling around and in between his wrists as his master continued talking. “We have a tracking chip installed inside of you, remember? You can never escape me; I will always find you.” With a forceful tug, Khaled’s hands were pulled in front of him, then he couldn’t move his hands at all. The other end of the rope must have been tied off to the ring attachment at the edge of the table.

His ankles remained free, if only to make it easier to take his pants off.

There were some light shuffling noises before the wooden table groaned under a newfound weight. Khaled felt the body heat of another person leaning over him. The cologne Thomas wore quickly overpowered his senses as the man hovered close. Khaled could feel his master’s breath on his ear and something hard and stiff against his backside. “The last time you tried to run away, a friend of mine advised me to cut your tendons,” Thomas sultrily whispered.

Oh god no. By now, Khaled knew which escape attempt they were reenacting, and, coincidentally, it was the one he had nightmares about the most.

“I don’t want to permanently cripple you though,” Thomas sighed, “mostly because it would be even more of a hassle to care for you, but I will cripple you temporarily, at the very least...”

He could already hear the hiss of the iron.

His panicked cries took on a new pitch of desperation. Without warning, his master’s fingers pinched at the edge of the duct tape on Khaled’s mouth and pulled, making him scream in pain. The rag was quickly removed, only for his tormentor to shove his index and middle fingers past the boy’s teeth to depress his tongue. “Suck,” he growled, “because this is the only lube you’re going to get.”

“Please, no, not this one, please, please no, not this, not this,” Khaled begged around the fingers in his mouth.

The fingers quickly withdrew before Khaled’s head was yanked back by the hair and then smashed onto the table. Stars danced across his blindfold, and a faint trickle of something warm and wet escaped from his nose.

“Let’s try this again.” Thomas shoved his fingers back into the boy’s mouth, burying them to the knuckle and making the boy gag. “Suck.”

Khaled shakily worked his head up and down the length of the fingers as his tongue lapped at each digit. He started to cry. As soon as the fingers withdrew, his pleas picked up again in earnest. “Please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me-”

“Would you relax?! I’m not going to burn you!” Thomas shouted above him. “What about any of this looks like I’m gonna burn you?!” Khaled heard a frustrated huff above him as his master yanked down his pants and underwear, exposing his bare ass and legs to the cold. The shed clothing was discarded, landing with a soft whump somewhere behind them. The two digits that were in his mouth forcefully entered him below, all pretense of play forgotten as they began roughly working him open. “Besides which, weren’t you the one who wanted to do this? You asked for this, you wanted this! You said you would be good for me!”

And he was right, he did say he wanted this. He asked for this to happen. So, with a defeated sniffle, Khaled went quiet and limp.

“So, are you going to be good for me now?”

Khaled’s bruised forehead scraped against the table as he nodded.

“Thank fuck,” Thomas grumbled.

I asked for this, Khaled told himself. The darkness around his eyes became damp as the blindfold caught his tears. I asked for this, I wanted this. He repeated it like a mantra as the man on top of him replaced his fingers with his cock and steadily screwed him against the table. I asked for this, I wanted this. Something tore down there as an unmistakable thin, warm, and sticky fluid trickled past the cock pummeling his hole. I wanted this. I wanted this…

I didn’t want this.

I never wanted this. Any of this.

I don’t want this. Slowly, the new mantra gained strength, and he let the words slip between his lips with every shuddering breath. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this-”

“Tough shit,” his master grunted.

Khaled pulled against the rope restraining his hands as he struggled against the body pressing into his. “I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I-” Again, Khaled’s face was smashed against the table. He heard a faint crunch as a new river of blood flowed out of his nose.

“You can scream all you want, nobody’s going to hear you,” Thomas growled, “but for fucks sakes, can you please scream something less annoying?!”

Khaled kept repeating it between every sniffle, like a sad broken record. “I don’t want this,” he sobbed. “I don’t want this… I don’t want this…”

His begging finally outwore Thomas’ need to finish. “Fuck,” his master huffed, unsticking his sweaty torso from Khaled’s clothed back as he pulled out of him. Khaled collected his heaving breaths. It would be too naïve of him to believe his bitchy whining finally got through, but he would appreciate this moment while he could.

He suppressed his sobs and tilted his head to follow the footsteps and shuffling sounds Thomas was making as he tried to guess what would happen to him next. Khaled heard the faint schwing of a different knife being unsheathed. It cut through the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt as his master finally completely undressed him, tearing away the scraps of cotton the knife didn’t excise from his body. “You said you would be good for me, but you have been anything but!” A twisted strip of cloth was wedged between his teeth and hastily tied off at the back of his head. His master’s hand pinned him down by the back of the neck, crushing him against the table with the weight behind it. “You said you missed me, but you’ve only fought against me this whole time!” Khaled screamed into the gag as the tip of the knife sank in between his shoulder blades. Its blade dragged tortuously and deliberately through his skin as his tormentor continued griping above him. “You’re a fucking liar, you know that?” The knife mercifully lifted from the trough it had carved, only to be plunged into a new area of Khaled’s back. “Do you know what I do to liars, boy? I make them pay!” The raw wounds on his back wept with blood as the knife kept slicing, spilling over his sides and pooling underneath his stomach and the table below. It was hard to cry with a gag in his mouth and a broken nose full of blood. He gasped for breaths between sobs, never quite getting a satisfying breath before the pain of the knife would make him scream again. His tears slipped past the saturated blindfold and tracked down his cheeks to join the pinkish smear of saliva, snot, and blood he could feel covering the lower half of his face. “This is for Callahan!” The knife drove down and sliced another line through his skin for each name the monster dropped. “This is for Trémeaux! And Robinson, and Martinez, and Kruger, and Kościelsky, and this-” The knife dug deeper this time. Khaled bit into the gag as his nerves screamed in agony, the steel scraping something hard as it dragged against his back. “-this is for my brother; he is never coming back! Tony is never coming back, and it’s all because of you!” the monster above him roared.

It was in that moment, between the terror and the pain, that Khaled realized with a fascinated horror that his master was reliving a nightmare, too. I need to snap him out of it if I’m getting out of this cellar alive, he realized. So, he set his own trauma and pain aside and began doing what got him into this mess in the first place. The twisted cloth had loosened just enough. He pushed it out of his mouth with his tongue and started begging as if his life depended on it, because this time, it really did.

“I didn’t kill him!” he cried.  “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him!” Khaled screamed well past the point his throat hurt. “Master, please, I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill any of them! I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him, Master, I didn’t kill him…” If the knife had stopped cutting into him and the rope around his wrists had been untied, Khaled was too far gone in his panic induced catatonia to notice. “I didn’t kill him… I didn’t kill him…” he rasped through a throat torn raw from screaming.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood

[eldritch-spouse]

Blind(not actually blind) anon here, I had ANOTHER really horrible sounding idea which I am guiltily enjoying (bubble bath after this one, I feel like a really guilty Catholic schoolgirl LMFAO)--

Patches gets kidnapped by the reader and raped, except he's clearly very into it despite his bad attempts at trying to behave like an actual victim

Kidnapper! Reader, who's tied Patches up and is forcibly fucking his ass with a strap-on: I've wanted this for so long, you have no id--

Patches, screaming like a delighted whore: me fucking too, oh my god, holy shit, gimme more, please!!~

Kidnapper! Reader, feeling the most turned on they've ever felt in their entire life:

TW: Noncon???

Honestly, you're just saving him the trouble of actually having to take initiative.

He wouldn't even try to behave like someone who's scared and doesn't want what's happening to him. This fucker sees you coming a mile away, deliberately lets himself get abducted, "wakes up" chained in your basement and blushes like a bitch in heat when you come to see him.

This very much translates into a confirmation of all that Patches could ever dream of. You love him too! You want him back badly enough to do all this! How blessed isn't he?!

Patches might cry when you "rape" him, but only because he can't believe it's actually happening, and you want to fuck him so bad you'd keep him in a dingy little basement as your filthy fuckpet forever- You don't even have to worry about feeding him, he's so low-maintenance, just drop by and touch his pathetic cock every once in a while, he'll be happy, he'll be so so happy.

What are you going to do with this little creep when Stitches manages to front? Because he's certainly getting out of the chains, there's no doubt about it. Maybe you will wake up in your own basement soon enough.

[pyr0lagnia]

Hi, could you maybe write some fem reader x Scout with crying and heavy degradation? My brain goes to the reader's team losing a match and Scout rubbing it in, only to be hit back at and Not taking that well. The competitive need for control results in a good beating in addition to the noncon side of his reaction.

HELLOOOO i know who this is ilyyyyyy <3 <3 anything for u. i shoulda made this a fic tho. TAKE HEED!! scout does a quick snuffing of ur flame at the end. hope ur okay with my long winded yammering! -`✮´-

tw for : beatings/injury/gore, rape, insults, and then snuff + implied necrophilia

✮ the fuck did you expect, getting bitchy and attempting to bruise a Scout's ego?

✮ when the runner came up to you during a shit match, bruised and sore, you already knew this wasn't gonna be a fun experience. the way he wore himself, his shoulders straight, baseball held tight in a white knuckle grip. worst of all, he wore this shit-eating grin that made your hands go numb with the effort to not rip at it like an animal.

✮ backed into a corner with no teammates, you didn't feel very confident in being able to slip away.

✮ he laughed at your stressed form, making you grit your teeth. his laughter was so. fucking loud. Scout was full aware of the upper hand he had, and the fact his team was winning, he held himself like hound who stood over deceased prey

✮ " what the hell do we have here, huh? quite a bit away from your teammates, aren't we, miss? " he grinned at you, baring his teeth in a cocky and aggressive manner, " dont'cha have some people to be helpin'? you losers aren't doing much good today! "

✮ previously hunched, you stood and matched his pose. he snarled gleefully down at you, sliding his bat from his shoulder. you snarled back, less gleeful.

✮ THUNK.

✮ one quick, easy kick, and Scout yelped like an injured dog. having his feet swept out from under him, his grin twisted up at you like he was scandalized. unfortunately that wasn't going to much more than just piss him off from embarrassment, not even someone with as little durability as a Scout would be down like the dead by a simple swipe to the shins.

✮ it was more out of spite than anything. you knew full well your own stamina and ability was worn down, might as well be unreasonable until he brings that bat down on your skull and you respawn.

✮ odd enough, he cast his bat to the side and tore you down to hit the ground similarly to him. the only difference being that you quickly get disoriented by the drop of your head against the hard ground.

✮ " don't really know what you expected, doin' some dumbass petty shit like that. " he roughly stabbed his knee directly into your stomach, leaning over you, making air shoot out of your lungs painfully in a grunt.

✮ you leered, and attempted to headbutt him, missing by a mile.

✮ " you're just doin' this to piss me off! you're not gonna fuckin' win. you and your whole team know this, you full well know this! what, did you give yourself brain damage on the way down here? did'ja? " grabbing your hair, he slammed your head back into the ground to emphasize his point. he dug his stupid boney knee into your abdomen even harder, if only to make you squirm from the pressure.

✮ " i can give you some if you didn't! " he would snark, and grab the fistful of your hair tighter so he could repeatedly slam the back of your head as hard as he could against the cold ground.

✮ despite your flails, he kept you pinned with his knee, and kept you disoriented with the repeated head trauma. all ragged breaths, he was doing this out of pure cruelty. truthfully he didn't come over with the intent on killing you immediately, he just wanted pure amusement.

✮ literally the only reason you are doing jack shit is because he's probably actively giving you a concussion. you feel like your brain is wobbling and bruised, you couldn't properly focus your eyes-

✮ pulling your pounding head to face him, you moaned low, and shakily out of pain.

✮ the noise made his eye twitch, and he paused. gears turned, and turned.

✮ " why do you sound like a whore when you're close to death? " he leaned his face close to yours, " is it cuz i'm mashing your brains in? awh, am I smashing you good? damn, you even kind of look cumbrained when you're this dizzy. "

✮ a fist slammed full force against your jaw. you felt it wetly snap out of its socket, the muscles pulling painfully as they no doubt ripped under the quickly marbling skin.

✮ the same fist slammed against your nose. whipping your head back, red spray quickly shot out of your nose and all over your face. it was embarrassing how easily your nose cracked under the force.

✮ between the TBI, the knee on your soft stomach, your bruised arms, and your sore legs, you were less than prime for fighting back against someone who had looked like they were freshly healed.

✮ Scout seemed to put these pieces together pretty quick. it was funny to see you flail though, you were like a fish.

✮ it wasn't long until he grew bored of watching the blood pool out of your nose. you weakly clawed him, trying to dig your nails as deep as you could get them. another fluid joined the blood on your face- tears. wrapping his hand around your throat, he felt his breath hitch.

✮ the man looked a little TOO decisive at that moment. the fuck was he-?

✮ his hands pressed on your windpipe, ripping at your already weak lungs, the clawing desperation for oxygen very quickly took over. it could've been funny how little your lung capacity was as of the moment, if he weren't a little distracted. you lifted your hands, trying to rip at his hands to get him to undo them. more tears flooded your expression. the color blue quickly joined. The enemy above you laughed shakily, his face turning an opposing red.

✮ " god, holy shit. you're crying just from this? " his voice was quieter, " just from this? i don't feel bad for you, then! could you be any more pathetic, you fuckin' loser? i'll show you something you can cry about, babe. "

✮ the suddenness of the pet name was weird, it promised something horrible.

✮ it made due on that promise immediately, impatiently. it wasn't long until you felt a breeze against your thighs. and then your chest. coughing from the sudden ability to breathe, you couldn't focus.

✮ Scout hunched over you, eyes running up and down your bruised body for too long. your shirt had been untucked, and pulled up to expose your chest. more worringly, your pants also were discarded. adrenaline pumping through you again, he quickly noticed, pulling out his pistol.

✮ " this is just the price you pay for being a sore loser, c'mon. " he sounded too unfocused to put serious effort into being pissed anymore. he moved quickly, and you ended up with a bullet through your foot. " don't wanna be a sore loser, do ya? " he was mumbling.

✮ your underwear had disappeared as soon as you came back from the blinding white pain.

✮ you felt his thin fingers slide through your slit, spreading you open briefly. you heard him wolf whistle, leaning back from his position to check you out. you felt nauseated from pain.

✮ " wow, wet, all for me? " he sounded genuinely surprised, but his tone was edged by mockery. he bit his lip, glancing around, and then leaned back over you. you spat something through your broken jaw, but most of your words failed to be uttered. he let out a barking laugh at your sputtering. both you and he knew it was the adrenaline, not actual arousal. didn't matter to him.

✮ you felt him shifting, eyes blurring as your head pounded from the hits, and now from the tears fighting their way out of you. slurring your words, you pushed him to stop, he had no right, fervently declaring that he should just kill you. there was no need to go farther.

✮ he just rolled his eyes, " i don't see anything tellin' me i don't need to do it though. good enough for me. your fault for being a petty bitch and then sobbing like that. " he had removed his own pants, and undergarments.

✮ you didn't stop shifting and clawing at the floor, blinking your eyes against shock and tears. you couldn't feel much more than pathetic with how you lacked the ability to properly fight him, and by the way the creep was almost immediately taking advantage of you when you were low on health, he probably full heartedly agreed. you couldn't see yourself living this down.

✮ of course he was hard already. you tried to push yourself away, hissing and abusing your already injured foot. his eyebrow twitched and he pulled you back under him easily. Scout was getting sick of you and he was getting sick of the fighting quick, as proved by the half hearted hit to your crooked jaw and the tense silence.

✮ the guy wasted NO time getting in between your thighs, and yanking them open. a shrieking noise left you, painful and tired. you let out a low whine, lurching forward and sitting up out of pure adrenaline, but it was quickly corrected by a swift push back onto your back. this did not make you immediately stop resisting, until he slammed his hands against your windpipe again, and rutted against your cunt.

✮ Scout stayed like that for a while, crushing your throat. " i win. i'm the winner. i win. i fuckin' win. " he spat at you. you looked away. he let go to force you to look at him. " look at me, yo- look at me. i'm above you. i am leagues above you."

✮ his tone is demanding. everything about him is too demanding.

✮ a few adjustments later, and he was rutting inside of you like you were nothing but a fleshlight. hips flexed in an uncomfortable position, he rawed the inside of your cunt.

✮ " say it. say it, say it, say it. say i'm leagues above you. tell me i've won and stop fightin' and i might stop. " he was just getting a power high at this point, eyes bright from pure joy.

✮ the match must've ended by now, did nobody bother to look for you? there probably was no other way out of this, was there?

✮ he stared down at you expectantly, hips still slamming into your own. the way he held your gaze made you want to throw up.

✮ you felt in your gut he wasn't honest. but yet... fighting was getting you literally nowhere.

✮ through your bruised throat and your shifting jaw, you gave in easily, pathetically. agreement slipped out of you like gasping breaths. you should've given up as soon as you were cornered.

✮ yeah, he didn't stop right off the bat.

✮ what did you expect? the guy was busy internally gloating.

✮ bile ate at your weak throat.

✮ the feeling of him fucking you make you feel even more ill than the creaking of your jaw. he didn't look at you anymore, eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed. he didn't bother considering you anything more than a means to an end now. he was the winner. he was the winner.

✮ completely flushed, he looked disgustingly self satisfied.

✮ it didn't take long for him to finally cum, though. as he bucked into you as deep as he could go, he let out a loud laugh, and sucked in sharply, clawing your hips. his entire face was pink with arousal.

✮ you grimaced at him, doing anything to look away. a small whimper choked you alongside the tears.

✮ not but a few moments later, cold metal pressed against your throat. he let out a shivery huff, and grit his teeth.

✮ one more shit eating expression later, " say hi to your team for me, freak! lets hope they don't get all nosy about where you were, huh? HAH! "

✮ he wasted no time after that.

✮ i can neither confirm nor deny if he even stopped like he said after the bullet ripped open ur throat </3

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood - 33

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 33: Brōzi, riña hen narys

AO3 - Masterlist

TW: Mentions of rape, recollection of attempted rape, mentions and recollections of murder. ALSO: SMUT

Daenera’s journey to her chambers remained a blur, the guiding hands of her maids helping to navigate her through the halls that should be familiar. As she found herself seated on the settee, a warm blanket draped over her shoulders and the crackling fire painting dancing shadows across the room, she couldn’t escape the icy  grip that seemed to tighten around her. 

The roaring flames should have been comforting, but the chill inside her bones persisted. It was as if the very core of her being had been drained of warmth. Her ears throbbed with an odd buzzing, a dissonant symphony that only she could hear.

A damp cloth brushed against her clammy skin, momentarily drawing her back to the present. She blinked, struggling to focus on the words that flowed from Joyce’s lips. The desire to sink into slumber tugged at her, promising a respite from the overwhelming fatigue.

“I’m sorry, what?” Daenera mumbled, her voice hoarse. 

The concern etched onto Joyce’s features deepened, mirrored by Jelissa’s hurried return with a new basin of water. The wet cloth glided over her face again, and Daenera’s eyes fluttered, attempting to anchor herself in the moment. She tried to make sense of the world around her, but it was like viewing reality through warped glass.

“Are you hurt?” Joyce’s questioned pierced through the haze, and Daenera’s lips parted to respond, her voice fragile. “I don’t… No, I don’t think so.”

Her body felt disconnected. The sensation was unsettling –a prickling, tingling feeling that spread beneath her skin. She was reminded of the time she had been thrown from her horse, her muscles protesting every movement. The sting on her face was matched by the throbbing pain in her hands, knees, and elbows – a weariness that echoed her battered state.  

All she wanted for now was sleep, a moment to gather her shattered thoughts and reclaim a semblance of composure. Her gaze drifted towards the fire’s dance, watching as the flames writhed and wavered. 

Her voice trembled, laden with exhaustion and a desire for solitude. “Please, I… I just need to be alone.”

Joyce and Jelissa exchanged a look, worry etched into their faces as they attempted to clean the princess of blood and grime. Joyce took a breath to steel herself before finally voicing the question that had to be asked. 

“Did they…” Her voice faltered, the unfinished question hanging in the air like a fragile thread. 

Daenera’s brow furrowed as she fought to reclaim her presence from the haze that engulfed her mind. She shook her head. “Rape me? No… No.”

Joyce’s lips tightened into a thin line, her fingers methodically working to wipe the stubborn blood from Daenera’s pallid neck. A faint bruise was blossoming on one of her cheekbones. 

Meanwhile, Jelissa arranged the preparations of a bath, managing the servants as they brought in one bucket after another, filling the room with a sense of urgency. Their glances, albeit fleeting, held a curiosity that bordered on prying, their eyes darting to the shivering princess huddled beneath the blanket. 

Efforts were made to remove the remnants of her ruined dress, leaving her in the corset and undergown. Even these layers hadn’t escaped the ordeal unscathed, marred by blood stains and grime, the fabric torn and tattered along the edges. When Joyce reached to undo the laces of the corset Daenera couldn’t help but flinch, gripping the blanket and wrapping it around herself once more, uncomfortable in the view of the servants.

“We need to clean you up,” Joyce murmured gently. “And have a Maester attend you.”

A heavy weariness clouded Daenera’s eyes as she clung to the warmth of the blanket. “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Joyce responded. “But we have to do this.”

No, this didn’t need to be done right now. The injuries on her body would still be there come morning. Daenera lifted her eyes, a spark of defiance in them. She had no desire to endure another round of having her honor questioned, and the prospect of undergoing a medical examination was even less appealing. Whether they considered her honor intact or not, that assessment wouldn’t change with the dawn. 

Her attention was caught by the sight of dried blood on her hands, a morbid stain that had settled into her skin. The crimson hue had transformed into a somber shade of brown as minutes slipped by. The blood clung between her fingers, hidden beneath her nails, seemingly painted across her skin as if she had immersed her hands in the very essence of it. 

She had killed him.

“Out,” Daenera muttered, her eyes flickering. The room fell into a surprised hush as her words hung in the air. 

“Daenera,” Joyce objected, her voice carefully composed in an attempt to reach through the haze of Daenera’s emotions. 

“I wish to be alone,” Daenera stated, her voice steadying despite the chaos within. “The Maesters can wait until the morning. I want to be alone.”

The initial reluctance of those present gave way to Daenera’s unwavering insistence. The servants dispersed, melting from the room and leaving behind only Joyce and a hesitant Jelissa. Daenera seized Joyce’s hand, her grip an anchor in the midst of her emotional storm. “Just… I don’t want anyone else to see me like this – I don’t want anyone to touch me. Nothing will be changed come morning.”

Reluctance tugging at her expression, Joyce eventually rose and approached the door. Her voice held a quiet concern as she glanced back. “Should you require anything, do not hesitate to summon me.”

Daenera managed a faint smile, her eyes following Joyce as she oppened the door. Once Joyce exited and the door clicked shut, Daenera leaned her head against the solid back of the settee in a moment of respite. The tentative footfalls of both Joyce and Jelissa faded down the hallway.

Her gaze fixated on the blood still staining her hands. The dried crimson etched patterns onto her skin, a grotesque testament to what she had endured and what she had done in response. A peculiar numbness spread through her, a prickling sensation timing beneath her skin. 

“Daenera,” a voice emerged from the shadows. 

She hadn’t noticed his entrance through the dim passageway. She barely reacted to him as he gradually stepped into her peripheral view, but her gaze remained locked on her trembling hands, still stained with blood. 

Aemond’s form knelt down, not directly before her but near enough to reach out. His fingers brushed her tangled hair aside, allowing his eye to fully connect with hers. The touch was surprisingly gentle, and she didn’t recoil from it. 

“Are they dead?” She questioned, her voice only loud enough to be a whisper. The weight of the blood on her hands seemed to anchor her to the moment. 

“Some of them,” Aemond responded, his eye lingering on her. His expression held a tenderness that, had he been aware of it, might have morphed into an aloof detachment. His other hand moved, gently resting on her wrist, the pale skin marred by splatters of crimson. “The search is on for the rest.”

Daenera swallowed hard, her fingers absently scraping at the remnants of blood beneath her nails. “I killed one of them.”

It was a declaration that carried a weight that extended beyond the mere words spoken. And what she was about to reveal held even more significance. With a steadying breath, she shifted her focus from her hands to his face. His expression appeared inquisitive. A faint quirk tugged at the corner of her lips, a sliver of a smile emerging amidst the haunting aftermath. “I took a life… and I should feel some semblance of remorse – some semblance of guilt …” 

She swallowed thickly, trying to find the proper words to express herself. “I should feel horrified…”

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips, a fragile laughter that seemed incongruous with the weight of the situation. A fire seemed to radiate within her chest, a pulsating energy that coiled in her stomach. “I ended his life. And I don’t carry the weight of guilt or horror with me… Instead, I’m filled with… a sense of power…”. 

She felt his eye flicker across her face, drinking in her expression, caressing the curve of her lips and counting the blood spatter that had avoided the damp cloth. His pupil seemed to swallow the icy blue of his eye.

That was the only way she could define it: exhilaration. The blood staining her hands represented the life she had taken, an enemy she had vanquished. In theory, she should be consumed by the horror of how easily it had unfolded, how faint the pangs of guilt and remorse were, but they were distant feelings. He had attacked her. He had earned his fate. 

Her eyes locked on his with intensity. A few droplets of blood speckled his skin, a crimson smear adorning his cheekbone. He had killed the others himself. 

“What is wrong with me?” She whispered.

“Nothing,” Aemond replied earnestly, his head tilting slightly. “You killed him. He deserved it.”

He deserved it . She held onto that notion. 

“You shouldn’t have intervened,” Daenera murmured, finding a measure of solace in his presence. “You shouldn’t have taken matters into your own hands.”

“A member of the royal family was targeted. It’s the expected course of action,” he replied with a hint of a smirk, entertained by her concern. 

“Was it expected for a prince to be personally involved?” Her words bore layers of meaning, it was both curious and accusatory, an unspoken plea for honesty. Why did you really do it? What is the meaning behind the letter?

Aemond’s nonchalant shrug couldn’t hide the depths of his motives. “Perhaps I simply have a penchant for taking lives.”

Daenera chuckled despite herself. 

Perhaps they were both monsters, thrilled by bloodshed. 

Then, a sudden realization struck her. “Fenrick?”

Aemond’s expression darkened, and he rose from his kneeling position. Daenera observed him, noting that he wasn’t wearing armor, but rather his usual leather doublet, a dagger at his hip. 

“Your guard is unharmed,” he informed her curtly. “Alive.”

Mirroring his actions, Daenera stood up, the blanket slipping from her shoulders to reveal her corset and underdress, stained with splotches of blood. His gaze traveled from her feet upwards, pausing at the crimson marks, then continued its ascent to the blood that had trickled from her chin and between her breasts. While Joyce had attempted to clean her off, the traces of blood remained, stains that weren’t so easy to remove. 

Aemond’s hand extended towards her, his fingers curling around her neck and drawing her closer against his chest. His other hand found purchase on her hip, fingers pressing into her flesh.

She instinctively parted her lips, tilting her head to meet his gaze. His scent carried a hint of copper and steel, a fragrance that conjured images of battlefields. His breath brushed across her skin, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if he would pull back.

Their lips collided, igniting a fervor that dissolved any lingering doubts. Their breaths mingled, and the kiss deepened, setting her skiing ablaze with a feverish heat. The chill that had gripped her moments before vanished, replaced by an all-consuming fire that seemed to lick at her very soul. 

In the thrones of this passionate kiss, Aemond’s hands found their way behind her, fingers deftly working at the stubborn knots of her corset. Frustration gave way to a more practical solution as he drew his dagger, its glint in the dim light of the room adding an edge of danger. With swift, precise cuts, the laces were severed, and the  restrictive garment fell away.

A sharp hiss escaped Daenera’s lips, the sensation of his touch and the anticipation sending a shiver down her spine. A triumphant smirk curved Aemond’s mouth as he continued to free her from the constraints, his gaze not leaving hers. The corset’s remains were abandoned in favor of her newfound liberation, her breathing coming quicker, labored by exhilaration and vulnerability. 

A rush of air filled her lungs as if she were finally breaking free from the suffocating constraints. Her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, the fabric of her underdress barely a barrier against the sensation of his fingers teasing her skin. She gasped as his touch ignited sparks of pleasure, her body responding with an eagerness she hadn’t expected. 

As his lips trailed a scorching path down from her mouth to her neck, a persistent knocking on the door pulled them from the haze of his touch. The interruption hung in the air like an unwelcome guest, the rhythm of her heartbeat pounding in tandem. 

Aemond’s expression shifted with irritation, his eye flickering towards the source of the interruption. 

It was a stark reminder of the reality they were briefly escaping in one another. Yet, the heat of the moment clung to their skin, the taste of the forbidden lingering on their lips.

“Y-yes?” Daenera stuttered, a touch of annoyance coating her response as she tried to shift Aemond’s weight off her. He remained unyielding. Her protests were barely acknowledged as he guided her backward until the armrest of the settee dug into her ass.

Aemond focused his attention on her throat, his lips and teeth setting her skin ablaze. The sensation sent shivers down her spine, her resistance beginning to waver. His hand, acting as an agent of her undoing, slipped beneath the thin fabric of her underdress, teasing a tantalizing path along the soft curve of her thigh, a journey that ended as he brushed against her clit.

“The men have arrived back,” Joyce reported through the door. 

Daenera’s thoughts raced, her pulse quickening, though she fought to maintain some semblance of composure. She was playing a delicate game, a dance on the precipice of discovery. “And Fenrick?”

Aemond’s skilled fingers traced circles over her most sensitive spot. The sensation rippled through her, each touch a dance between pleasure and restraint. His movements, rhythmic and deliberate, made her fight to keep her composure, her lids fluttering as she closed her eyes in an attempt to maintain focus. 

“He’s alive. He is being tended to by Maester Orwyle.” The words filtered through the barrier of the door. 

Her grip tightened on his shoulders, fingers clenching against the fabric and skin as she felt him insert his finger into her aching cunt. The slow withdrawal followed by his thumb’s circular motions on her clit left her gasping, her chest heaving as she struggled to maintain her poise. The tingling tension coiled within her, aching to be released. 

“Princess?”

“Mhm,” Daenera hummed as a response, as she felt herself teetering on the edge. She swallowed thickly. “Stay with him for the night. Make sure he is well taken care of.”

“As you are being well taken care of right now?” Aemond’s words was breathed against her ear, a potent combination of intimacy and daring that sent a shiver down her spine. His voice, low and resonant, bore a hint of mischief that danced on the precipice of audibility, a secret melody meant for her alone. 

Daenera could almost imagine Joyce’s uncertainty, her feet planted just beyond the door. And then, as the silence stretched, Joyce’s footsteps slowly faded away, retreating down the corridor.

A soft, breathy moan, barely louder than a whisper, escaped her lips. 

“Take your clothes off,” she managed to instruct, her voice a command that swirled in the air. The urgency and longing merged in her voice as she tugged at his leather doublet.

Aemond complied, their connection briefly broken as he stepped back to remove his clothes. Daenera’s fingers trembled slightly as she worked to unbutton his doublet, revealing the shirt beneath. 

Kneeling down, she skillfully untangled his belt, fingers deftly working to unlace his trousers and helped remove his boots. The proximity to his body, the way his warmth radiated against her skin, was both exhilarating and distracting. Her lips pressed against the cut of his hip bones as she began to peel the trousers down. 

Daenera’s gaze swept over him, taking in the strong muscle of his thighs, robust and well-defined from years of training. The subtle expanse of his chest caught her attention, the play of muscles evident as he moved, discarding his boots with a casual motion. As she rose, her hand extended towards him, gliding across the broad expanse of his lower abdomen, tracing the movements of his muscles beneath her touch. 

Despite the invisibility of the reaction, she sensed the emergence of goosebumps at the trail of her fingers. Aemond’s pull drew her back to him, the underdress yielding to his demand as it slipped over her head, revealing the flushed skin beneath. Imprints of hands marred her arms, evidence of rough handling, while her scraped and bruised knees told the same story. Even her thighs bore somber marks of purplish hue. 

The sight changed the expression upon Aemond’s face, made it sharper and edged like a blade. 

A finger brushed against her bruised cheekbone, gentle, sweet… complicated .

Aemond drew her face back to his, pressing his lips against hers as his arms enfolded her. Her legs instinctively wound around him as he carried her towards the bed. Her blood-stained hands clenched onto his shoulders, the strength of her grip punctuating her vulnerability. His breath whispered against her ear, a warm caress, as her lips found his neck, grazing and nipping at the flesh. 

A knowing smile played on her lips, as she felt the effect she had on him. His arousal twitched against her thigh, his hands gripping the flesh of her rear. 

Barely a heartbeat passed before she felt the cushion of the mattress beneath her, as she slipped onto her bed. 

Aemond’s lips crashed into hers, and with a calculated rhythm, he rocked his hips, the length of his cock tantalizingly grazing along the contours of her slick cunt. His figure loomed above her, a commanding presence as he descended from her lips, his heated breath tracing a sultry path down her neck. His tongue trailed the length of her throat, each sensation eliciting a moan from her. 

Daenera’s breath emerged in uneven cadence, her eyes clamping shut as his hands ventured along her form, toying with a nipple and expertly kneading the supple flesh. I was told to keep you alive. But not in what condition. The words trailed a cool hand down her spine and she blinked, her crimson-stained hands a stark contrast against the fair expanse of Aemond’s skin, a canvas of pale and unblemished beauty. 

Her fingernails relentlessly sought to imprint his skin, an attempt to inflict a fraction of the agony she herself had endured. A surge of adrenaline burned her veins, propelling her toward an unwavering resolve to reclaim what had been stolen from her. Control—stolen from her, now demanded by her will.

Swiftly, she adjusted her hips, reversing their position so that she straddled him. Her hair remained in disarray, a tumble of braids and curls falling around her face, some still partially pinned in place. There was an untamed quality to her appearance, an almost feral expression on her face. 

The urgency to lose herself in the moment grew ever more profound.

Daenera peered down at him, her hips swaying in an artful dance, the slick heat of her cunt sweeping the length of his cock. His hands traced a path up her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh as he inched upward to capture her lips. But Daenera halted his advance, her hand pressing firmly at the center of his chest, a steadfast barrier that kept his eager lips just beyond her grasp. 

In his gaze, a fire akin to molten iron simmered, thick and dangerous, pliable and ready to be molded. With added pressure, she compelled his back against the mattress, the command clear in her face. 

“I am in control,” Daenera said with a dangerous tremor to her voice. “And I will have you begging for me.”

Aemond’s moan reverberated through the room, his fingers vice-like on her hips, conveying his increasing desire for her. 

Undeterred, she maintained the relentless sway of her hips, smearing her slick along the ridgid length of his cock, each breath deliberate as she exerted her control over him. 

A wry smile graced her lips, a silent declaration of her power, as Aemond’s brow furrowed with growing intensity. His hips surged upward to meet hers, a concentrated effort to wrestle back some semblance of control. He leaned up towards her once more, but this time there he was not met with gentleness. 

Her palm sliced through the air, making contact with his cheek, the sharp smack reverberating through the room as both her hand and his cheek stung, turning a shade of fiery red. Her movements halted, her heart hammering within her chest. 

Aemond’s gaze was drawn back to her, his eye wide and incredulous. He grabbed hold of the hand that had slapped her, holding it with an iron grip. A certain danger glinted within the depths of his eye, his pupils expanding into pools of darkness as he fixated on her. 

Daenera could feel his cock throb and twitch beneath her, begging for attention. Her breaths emerged labored as she measured his response, the air crackling with anticipation. 

Aemond peeled his hand from her wrist and drew a thumb across the corner of his mouth, a wicked smile playing on his lips. 

With resolute force, Daenera pressed him back against the mattress, her hips rolling to press herself firmly against his twitching arousal. A passionate moan escaped her lips, her own smile a reflection of his. 

“What do you want?” Daenera breathed, her voice low and filled with desire. 

“I want your tight cunt wrapped around my cock,” Aemond answered. “I want you mewling my name. I want you filled up with my seed and begging for more–” 

“You are the one who’s going to beg this time,” Daenera drawled, feigning a confused frown as her head tilted almost innocently. 

Aemond chuckled. “Make me.”

The room quivered with tension as another stinging slap reverberated through the air, followed by a guttural, almost primal moan. Daenera could sense his resolve waver beneath her, not from the pain of the slap, but rather the sheer intensity of his desire for her. She delicately caressed the flushed mark on his cheek as she observed him. 

Desire smoldered in his gaze, his teeth sinking into his lower lip in a futile attempt to restrain himself from taking her. She had to commend his self control. The muscles of his abdomen coiled beneath her touch, his hips spasming as she ceased her moments. The grip of his fingers on her hips grew relentless, foreshadowing the bruises that would mark her skin. 

Daenera raised her hand once more, intent on delivering another strike, but this time Aemond intercepted it. His gaze remained locked onto hers, an intensity that bordered on intoxicating. As he elevated himself again, his breath washed over her face, teasing strands of her to a gentle sway. Her own resolve began to falter, her breath caught in her throat, lips parting involuntarily. 

And then, almost like a whisper, it escaped his lips, so soft it nearly eluded her notice. 

“ Please .”

With deliberate motion, Daenera elevated herself, her hand descending between them to align his cock with her entrance. The tip of him met the throbbing core of her being, and as she pressed down, he slipped inside her with little resistance. Her moan slipped between her lips as she felt him fill her up. He filled her up so completely, the stretch a mere burn in the distance of her pleasure, she rolled her hips and began to lift off of him again. The stretch was a soothing balm for the ache that had gripped her body, and the subtle movement he made within her caused her breath to hitch in her throat. 

She ascended again, gradually building momentum, deftly adjusting the angle of her hips to ensure he grazed all the right places. His hands helped her decide on the rhythm, slow and deliberate. As her head rolled to the side, her eyes fluttered open to peer down at Aemond. 

Her palms were spread against his abdomen, anchoring herself to him, her touch a stark contrast against the pale flesh. 

In the recesses of her thoughts, a voice murmured, a hesitant question regarding her sanity. How could she do this after everything that happened? How could she do this with blood still on her hands? And why did it only add to her arousal?

Yet, that inner voice remained subdued, unable to ascend beyond the tremors his moans sent down her spine. It failed to raise above the sight of him disappearing inside of her, lost in the midst of a sensation that overwhelmed any semblance of reason. 

The pace picked up, becoming more fervent and intoxicating. Daenera lost herself in the feel of him – the feel of his hands on her, the feel of his muscles under her fingers, the feel of him inside of her. 

“Fuck me,” Daenera moaned, relinquishing some of her control and leveling the battlefield. 

Aemond took charge, guiding her to descend onto his cock, his teeth bared in a sharp hiss as she trembled around him. He thrust into her, matching her rhythm with one of his own. 

Moans fell from her lips, her eyes fluttering as she gripped at his chest, nails digging into his skin. 

Aemond leaned up and took one of her nipples into his mouth. His tongue smoothed over it before he resumed the suction, all the while his hands guided her onto his cock, compelling them to sway against him. 

Her moans arose as a primal response. It was far from delicate, far from sweet. It was a raw declaration of her desire. It was as though an itch, long neglected, demanded fervent attention–an urge that demanded to be satisfied. 

Carnal desire. Raw. Bloody . 

Her fingers brushed into the silver strands of his hair, its texture akin to silk, yet she grasped the strands with a firmness that verged on stinging. Pulling his mouth from her breast, she met his gaze with a ferocious hunger, tracing over his essence with her eyes before smashing her lips onto his. Her teeth descended upon his lower lip, piercing it to relish the taste of blood once more invading her senses. 

Aemond couldn’t contain a guttural groan, his grip on her hips intensifying as he thrust upwards. Her slick painted his cock and thighs, glistening at the base of his shaft and beading on the soft hairs there. She glided onto him, the fit seamless, as if her very cunt was sculpted to fit only him. 

Her inner walls constricted and shivered around him as she moaned into his mouth. 

An arm encircled her waist, offering stability, while his other hand found purchase to support himself. 

“I’m going to fill you up with my seed,” Aemond grunted, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead as he exerted himself. 

Daenera’s moans escaped her lips as she descended onto him. “Aemond…”

“Mmm,” he responded with a resonant hum, baring his teeth in an audible inhalation. She responded by tightening around him, a sensation that coursed through him and prompted an intensified reaction. He groaned, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

“Say my name, hūra rūklon.” Moonflower.

Daenera’s moan escaped her, mingling with the faint pressure of her teeth upon her lower lip. Her nails found their mark in the robust expanse of his shoulders, the skin beneath her touch taught and unyielding. As her nails pressed into his skin. In response, his hold around waist constricted, a silent declaration of his desire for her. 

“Say my name, sȳndor bantio rūklon .” His words were a command. “ Ivestragon ñuha brōzi, riña hen narys .” Say my name, little nightshade. Say my name, girl of poison.

“Aemond,” she moaned, the name slipping from her lips like a fervent prayer.

Her cunt sucked him in, the sound lewd and obscene. Their breaths mingled as they pushed each other towards the edge, a sheen of sweat coating their skin. The blood on her body, once dried, now ran down like drops of paint, smeared by his touch. 

Daenera felt the walls of her core quiver, a palpable tremor that intensified its grip as she succumbed to the waves of warmth that washed over her. Her moan, carried on breathy currents, echoed in the room, her lips parting and her eyes sealing shut as a surge swept her up. Her skin prickled the mingling of perspiration and excitement. 

Undeterred, Aemond continued his thrusts, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. The grip on her tightened and he drove her onto his cock once, twice, thrice–then he spilled his seed, the warm liquid spurting out of his cock and painting her insides. Aemond continued with a few shallow thrusts, before he rested his head against her collarbone. 

Daenera remained astride him, even as he fell back down onto the mattress, her fingers stretching out across his abdomen, while her legs shook, the muscles straining with the efforts of riding him. Faint handprints made in blood littered his body, made by the mixing of sweat and blood.

When she sensed her limbs were steadier, she lifted herself from him, her steps uneasy as she navigated the room. Her fingers found purchase on a bedpost, her gript tight as she leaned against it, waiting for the returning flow of blood to reach her legs once more. She was acutely aware of the sensation of his seed trickling from her cunt and down her thigh. She wrinkled her nose.

“Did it meet your expectations?” Daenera inquired, her movements stiff as she moved through the room and made her way towards the filled tub, where she gingerly stepped into the water, immersing herself to clean off the grime and blood.

“The blood was a surprise,” Aemond confessed, his demeanor casual as he joined her by the tub, his satisfaction evident. He picked up a cloth, soaking it in the water, and started wiping away the traces of blood on his skin. “And the slap as well.”

Daenera compressed her lips, methodically scrubbing her arms and hands with a sponge, the fervent motion helping to rid her of the bloodstains. Her gaze lingered on him from the corner of her eye, observing how he deftly cleaned himself, the muscles contracting and relaxing with every movement, displaying their taut strength. 

Daenera inhaled deeply, her scrubbing growing more intense as she worked between her fingers, the irritation in her movements obvious. “This mustn't repeat itself.”

“I would imagine you jumping at the chance to slap me every once in a while,” Aemond teased. 

Daenera glared at him. “I should have slapped you harder.”

“There is always next time,” Aemond drawled, drawing the cloth over his chest. “If I’m feeling generous.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Daenera spat at him. “This will never happen again.”

Their eyes locked. Aemond’s expression continued to hold a stubbornly amused undertone, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “You’ve uttered those words before.”

“I am resolute this time,” she retorted, her tone laden with sincerity. And she had indeed been serious on those previous occasions as well. “I am to be married.”

Aemond’s demeanor turned colder, his eye narrowing with a bitter edge. His response held a chilly bitterness rather than a fiery anger. “Ah, the impending betrothal. I’m curious about the groom’s reaction when he discovers you’ve been deflowered.”

“He won’t discover it,” Daenera asserted, her eyes gleaming with determination. “And you won’t be the one to inform him.”

Aemond scoffed, his head shaking as he cast the cloth aside, letting it splash into the water. “I’d be sparing him a great deal of inconvenience if I did. How will he react when he finds no signs of blood? What will he say upon realizing your innocence has been compromised?”

“I’ve devised a plan.” The certainty in her voice was evident. She had no choice but to come up with a strategy. After all, the bleeding on the wedding night was steeped in tradition, a weak proof of purity. The absence of it would raise questions about her honor, potentially leading to the annulment of the marriage. The ceremonial bedding was meant to solidify the union. But she had no intention of sharing a bed with him. 

“You can’t talk your way out of the bedding,” Aemond retorted skeptically. 

Daenera’s demeaner remained poised as she responded, clinging to her composure. “What happens or doesn’t happen on my wedding night is none of your concern. You were well aware of my impending marriage when you came here.”

His words turned coarse and lewd, designed to fray her patience. “The marriage won’t stay intact for long once he discovers my seed inside your cunt.”

Displaying a resolute assurance that he likely found unconvincing, Daenera countered, “That won’t occur because this is the last time. I will fulfill my duty by marrying Boris Baratheon. I’ll endeavor to be a good wife, and I won’t permit you to ruin it for me.”

“Try,” Aemond muttered, the corners of his lips tugging into a smirk as sharp as a blade, intended to wound. “You may try to be a good wife.” He approached her, leaning down and placing a hand on the tub’s edge, while the other gripped her chin, compelling her to meet his eye directly. “You will be miserable as Baratheon’s wife, and I, for one, am eager to witness your misery.”

Daenera wretched her head free, a snarl forming on her lips as water splashed onto the floor. “Your bitterness is becoming quite evident.”

Aemond paid her little heed, pulling up his trousers around his hips and donning his boots. He collected the rest of his attire in a bundle in his arms. “I’ll be anticipating your inevitable failure.”

[konigsblog]

tw: rape/noncon, dead dove: do not eat

gaz would be such a brutal, mean rapist... 🎀

he'd be so horny. with such a high libido, he needs to find an outlet — something to dump his hot, sticky load into. he's especially rapey when he's drunk; constantly laughing at whatever and undressing you with his eyes at a bar with the 141, attempting to hide his thick, hard bulge while taunting you.

and you can never fully fight him off. his grip on your wrists is insanely tight, firmly holding you down whilst ploughing into you, with one hand covering your mouth as he rapes you, using your body for his own selfish gratification. he doesn't even feel guilty; he feels better, pleasured, trying to convince you that it's alright because... well, you're friends, right?

he won't hesitate to orally rape you if you speak back to him. you're just a filthy, dumb toy for him to use — so either keep that mouth shut, or let him use it.

“told ya’ to be quiet, dove...” he chuckles softly and drunkenly, looking down at you as he corners your head in with his thighs, feeling your hands grip his hips, tears streaming down your cheek as you slobber and drool and spit all over yourself, gagging on the thick amounts of cum running down your throat, leaving your voice raspy.

sometimes he'll rape you in the barracks, whilst everyone is sound asleep, unaware to your pain. there's been times where another recruit will find out, and instead of protecting you, they'll join in. it's incredibly awkward when johnny looks at you with a drunken smirk, desperate to feel your gummy walls after hearing how good they feel — he needs to feel it for himself, dove...

occasionally, you're drunk and bouncing on his veiny, lengthy cock, too vulnerable and drunk to make a choice like this. he'll even tell you that he didn't want it, to fuck with your head and see you sobbing and apologising profusely. of course, he was the one who coerced you into having sex with him, he most definitely wanted it. but, what do you know? you just need to make it up to him, by sucking him off nicely!

gaz will shape you into a shell of your previous self, completely numb and weak against him.

[forwhump]

Beware Of Dog

a/n; thank you !!!!!!!! thank you thank you thank you so so much to everybody who was so so nice to me about my last blurb I don’t deserve it at all but I’m in love w you <3

I obviously have an immediate follow up to that blurb but because I refuse to post these chronologically or with any actual rhyme or reason at all here’s something completely different & unrelated 🤩 completely random pov in fact ! not even an actual chunk of the overall story but a random blurb I wrote to feel for a vibe ! gotta love it :’)

tw/cw: rape, noncon, attempted rape, attempted rapist pov, implied animal cruelty, implied animal death, misgendering, transphobia, dehumanization, graphic depictions of violence, beating

living weapon whumpee, creepy whumper, captivity, military, revenge, outside pov

Initiation, they’d called it.

It was really a punishment, but Vitriol was too green to know that.

He’d been expecting some kind of hazing, at any rate, so an initiation hadn’t surprised him. It’s no easy feat, getting a job in the district, and it’s next to impossible to make it through the next steps, the orientation. The soldiers in the district are the best in the country and Vitriol figured he was in for kind of a hard time, for a bit of hazing. He figured he’d have to prove himself.

But he fucked up, his first day, and he didn’t even know it. He’s punished all the same.

He was introduced to his faction and shown to the barracks. His platoon leader, Point, a decorated soldier, had looked up at him with a grin that wasn’t quite human and Vitriol should’ve known then that something was really wrong with him.

He’d been distracted, though. Truthfully, he’d barely looked at Point. Hadn’t thought much of his weird smile at all, really.

Point had a toy. A girl. A girl from the unit, if Vitriol had to guess — my favourite plaything, Point had cooed at her, holding her naked and facedown on the mattress of his bunk, forcing her thighs apart. Daddy’s favourite whore.

Vitriol didn’t need to ask to understand exactly why. She was magic; pretty hair and prettier skin, the mouth and the waist of a whore. Vitriol wanted to play with her, too — he tried. He wasn’t allowed. That was his mistake.

That nerve of you, greenhorn, Point had told him, lazy. He was still inside the girl, and he’d coiled a length of her hair around his fist to wrench her face up from his pillow. I don’t like to share. You’ll have to work for her.

Vitriol wasn’t entirely sure which one of them he was mocking but he found himself not caring too much either way. He’d barely heard Point, actually.

The girl was fucking enchanting. Her flush was splotchy and her mouth was swollen and her huge eyes were blown even wider with tears. She was magical. She sobbed, and it echoed through the barracks like ringing bells.

I’ll do whatever you need me to do, he said.

Initiation.

In the district, well below the chaos of the barracks and the unit, are arenas, made up to look like urban settings for the practical training of the super soldiers.

Hunt the girl down, Vitriol was told, and she’s fair game. Do whatever you want to her.

It had kinda seemed like he was being set up. It seemed too easy.

Nobody had warned him about Point’s vicious protective streak.

He’d grinned at Vitriol as he’d said, just look out for her dog.

Still, Vitriol hadn’t been concerned. He wasn’t really all too worried with the girl getting to have a dog — he had three to track her.

It took the better part of a day and a half, but the dogs chased the scent of her through an empty cityscape and cornered her villainously in an alley like a scene from a scary movie.

Vitrol’s heart beats a little quicker in turn and he can’t keep himself from grinning. They’d let him pick her dress, tiny and flimsy. She’s gonna have to wring it out when he’s done with her. She looks very pretty and very scared and it isn’t hard to see why Point likes her so much.

And y’know what? She doesn’t even have a dog.

He whistles, and his dogs hurry quickly back to his side. The girl tips her head back against the wall, chest heaving, and Vitriol is gonna have a lot of fun with her, he thinks. He grins a little wider. “Hey, baby.”

“Fuck you,” she spits, but her voice breaks. She’s crying.

God, he’s hard. He might also be in love with her.

“You and me are gonna have ourselves a lot of fun, I think,” he says, and he imitates her accent but he doesn’t really mean to. “Gonna put you to work, girl.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” the girl says, and she probably means to spit it at him but her voice breaks again and it sounds like a plea.

She’s magic.

And she has nowhere to run.

He presses her up against the wall. She fights, she’s more of a fighter than Vitriol had been expecting, but she’s a tiny thing and it isn’t hard to hold her there with his weight as he gets his hands beneath her dress. She screams bloody murder and it’s music to his ears.

“Well, I’ll be,” he says, and he’s still mocking her. It makes her flush, dark across the bridge of her nose. “You’re really something special, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck you,” she spits, and struggles like hell in his grip as he forces a leg between her thighs. “Get the fuck off me. Get off me!”

“I don’t think I will,” he tells her. He takes his time as he slides his hands up, over her hips, across her skin, delighting in the way she writhes against him, grinding against her as she tries to get away. He falters only for a moment, startled only when a roar echoes down the alley towards him from somewhere much closer than Vitriol would’ve expected. Her dog, apparently lying in wait, but Vitriol already knew she had a dog. Vitriol was prepared to deal with it.

He clicks his tongue at his own, angles his chin out of the alley, and the dogs take off obediently, snarling between them as they follow the roar. “I’m not afraid of your dog,” he tells the girl.

She breathes out a sound, so much more like a laugh than Vitriol would’ve expected that he looks back at her quickly. “You should be,” she says.

Another sound, this one just as thunderous but uncomfortably wet, chased closely by a pained howl that ends too suddenly. Vitriol looks quickly towards the opening of the alley but his dogs don’t come running back. He doesn’t hear them anymore. He looks back at her. “What the fuck is —“

He cuts himself off. The girl doesn’t interrupt him, and her dog doesn’t speak. Whatever the fuck she’s got, it’s no regular dog. Vitriol doesn’t need to turn to know when it materializes behind him; it’s so massive Vitriol can feel the force of it behind him, so massive it blocks out the fluorescent daylight.

It doesn’t say anything. Vitriol doesn’t, either. He stays frozen, his hands on the girl’s skin. She doesn’t urge her dog to attack, and for a moment, for a moment much too long, silence stretches and tension builds.

He looks at her blankly. She looks up at him and she smiles, bright and mocking. There isn’t a trace of fear left in her face and she looks more like a predator than Vitriol would’ve thought her capable, especially in such a demeaning little dress.

Her dog lingers behind him, and it isn’t even just that it’s big but that there’s a sort of violent rage radiating from it that Vitriol has only ever seen in videos of animal attacks.

Slowly, he places her back on her feet. “I’m fucked,” he drawls, “aren’t I?”

The girl’s smile widens. “Bless your heart.”

And then a truck barrels into the back of Vitriol’s head.

It’s the single hardest blow he’s ever taken. He knows his skull cracks because he can hear the sound it makes from the inside. White spots burst across his field of vision and his ears don’t start ringing, they squeal. He staggers into the nearest wall, dizzy, and his nose cracks as that truck crashes into him again and crushes his nose and both of his cheekbones against the brick.

A hand takes his hair, and his face is crushed against the brick again before he’s thrown to the ground. A handful of his hair is ripped out as he goes.

His already cracked skull ricochets off the concrete and the way the pain ripples all the way through him is an echo. It throbs not just in his head but every inch and ounce of him. The pain makes everything white, and Vitriol tries to blink through it as he peers up at the girl’s dog.

Except it isn’t a dog, and Vitriol had been set up; looming over him is a fucking monster. It isn’t a dog but it isn’t human either — it’s an abomination. It’s so massive it barely fits between the walls of the alley and it looms so far above Vitriol they aren’t sharing the same atmosphere. But it crouches down, sinks into Vitriol’s personal space, and it’s grotesque up close, patchwork flesh and thick, lifted scars. Its hair hangs in his face and it grins at Vitriol with all of its teeth.

“You have something that belongs to me,” it says, and it has the low, rumbling voice of a nightmare.

Vitriol is bleeding so much his head is floating on the concrete. “I,” he chokes out, and he’s surprised by how difficult it is to speak. His tongue feels weighted. “I’m sorry.”

“Not yet,” it tells him. It cracks its knuckles as it stands. “You will be.”

[fantasyinallforms]

I can not stress this enough, but please mind the tags. This is a bit of a darker fic, but it all ends well and happily.

I'm taking a break after this one to work on my nice fluffy THAUC fic. I will very likely circle back around in about a week or two and release a few more for this event. Thank you all for the support you've shone this far 🥰😘 ~~~~~~~~

Day 15-Bagginshield- Sex Pollen/ Fuck or die

TW for: Whump, threats of rape/noncon, graphic depictions of violence

Unbreakable

Fantasyinallforms

Bilbo and Thorin are captured coming back from a diplomatic mission to the elf king's halls. Their captures have no intention of killing the great Thorin Oakenshield outright; instead, they seek to break him and attempt to use Bilbo to do it.

Find the kinktober list here!