#tw attempted noncon

[livelaughwhump]

Worthless - Part 20

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Content: ATTEMPTED NONCON (not explicit), mention of past noncon, mention of past captivity, threat of gun violence, crude language, dehumanization, degradation, self-hatred, self-deprecation, former pet whumpee

-

"So how long are you planning to stay?" Lyra asked.

Colleen shrugged. "I have to be back home to pick up the kids and sign the divorce papers with Andrey on Monday, so I was hoping to stay for the whole weekend. Now that I've seen how things are going though, I understand if you want me to leave."

All eyes turned to Karine curiously, expecting her to deliver her final verdict, but the leader merely shrugged. "That's a discussion for all of us to have, and one of us isn't currently present. I don't want to make any decisions without Elliot's input."

Colleen nodded. "I suppose that's fair. Then, would you mind if I stayed for the day until all of you come to a decision?"

Karine shrugged again and folded her arms securely over her chest. "I don't see why not."

"Why don't we just make a decision now?" Yvonne wondered aloud. "Elliot's just in his room. What's the harm in having a group discussion now?"

"The harm is that Elliot's probably still a little sensitive and exhausted from his breakdown earlier," Karine stated.

"Exactly," Lyra added. "Think of it from his perspective. Imagine you just had a panic attack and then are suddenly pulled into a team meeting. It could really stress him out."

Yvonne nodded. "Fair, but I'm worried about leaving him alone in his room all day. Shouldn't someone go and check on him?"

Broderick rubbed a gentle hand over Yvonne's knee. "He's fine, Yve, don't worry. Why don't you and I check on him in a bit? Right now, he needs a bit of space."

Yvonne smiled at Broderick and rested her hand atop his. "Thanks, Rick. You're right. I just worry about him so much."

"We all do," Lyra said. "But Broderick is right. We can't suffocate him. We need to respect his boundaries."

Each present member of the team nodded their heads in agreement. Colleen smiled at the sight. "You know, it's refreshing to see how much you all care about one another."

Karine smiled back. "Of course we do. We're a family."

Colleen sighed, her smile wobbling. "It's good to know that Landon has found such a great family. Makes me a little jealous though, to be honest."

Landon scoffed and wrapped an arm around his little sister's shoulders. "You have nothing to be jealous of, Coll. I can't stand these people."

Landon laughed at his joke while Karine scoffed and kicked him in the shin. "Oh, is that right? Guess I'll be turning your room into my home gym, then."

"Why do you get dibs on Landon's room?" Broderick chimed in. "Wouldn't a medical center be a better use of the space?"

Yvonne giggled. "Personally, I've always wanted a home library."

"No one is doing anything to my room!" Landon yelled.

The room erupted into laughter, each present team member talking over one another; their voices grew louder with each word. Through the utter chaos, no one noticed the complete silence behind Elliot's door, nor the icy chill creeping in through his open window.

. . .

Elliot trudged down the quiet pavement, his once-fluffy socks completely soaked through from the snow. His t-shirt and sweatpants did little to shield him from the cold. His arms were wrapped tightly around his shivering body as tears froze on his rosy cheeks.

He had no idea where he was going, nor what had compelled him to leave the safehouse. He hadn't been outside since his rescue. Had it always been so bright?

Elliot wiped the tears and snot from his face and tried to quiet his unrelenting sobs.

Do you have any idea how pathetic you look right now? Imagine what people would think if they saw you like this. Maybe a new master will find you and take pity on you

Elliot clamped his eyes shut and furiously scrubbed at the tears on his face.

I bet your friends haven't even noticed you're gone. Even if they have, it's not like they'd come looking for you. Rescuing you is the biggest mistake they've ever made

A quiet whimper escaped Elliot's throat as a massive shiver scurried down his spine. Goosebumps rose on his exposed arms and the tear tracks on his face froze.

Elliot had been keeping his head low the whole time to avoid drying out his eyes in the icy wind. When he lifted his head to check where he was going, he raised his eyes just in time for a massive brick wall to appear in his path.

Elliot gasped as he collided with it, falling onto his backside in the snow. He held a hand to his aching forehead and burst into tears. What was he doing? Where did he think he was going? What was his plan?

Elliot curled up into a pathetic ball at the base of the brick wall and leaned back against it. He wrapped his quivering arms around himself and buried his face between his knees. "Wh-What am I d-doing?" He whispered to himself. Maybe the vicious voice in his head was right. Maybe a nice owner would stumble across him and take pity on a stupid, ugly mutt like him. Maybe he'd finally find a place where he could belong.

. . .

As the hours ticked by and there was still no sign of Elliot, Lyra began to grow worried. If he was sleeping, they didn't want to disturb him, but surely he must've been getting hungry. Yvonne was almost finished with supper and Elliot hadn't so much as shown his face once since they left him.

Lyra couldn't help but imagine the worst. What if Christian had come back for him and simply waited for him to be left alone? What if he was already gone and no one had any idea?

In that moment, Lyra had made up her mind. They needed to check on him. They needed to know that he was safe and healthy, just to give themself some peace of mind.

With the sounds of raucous laughter penetrating the walls from the next room over, Lyra stood before Elliot's door and gave it a gentle knock. "Sunshine? It's just me. Can I come in?" When nothing but silence answered, panic began to seep into Lyra's chest, little by little. Their first thought was that he was asleep, but they couldn't help but imagine the worst.

In order to ease their growing anxiety, Lyra gently pushed the door open and peered into the quiet stillness of Elliot's room. As their gaze fell upon his empty bed, their stomach dropped. "Elliot?" They called out as they stepped further into his room. Their panic gripped their stomach and squeezed.

Not again. Please, not again

"Elliot?" Their voice was shakier now. "Please, come out. It's just me; it's Lyra. I just wanted to check on you. I promise everything is okay. Please just come out."

Nothing.

The only sound in the room was that of the winter wind whistling as it crept into the room. It was only then that Lyra noticed the open window and the flurries of snow drifting onto the floor in front of it.

The blood drained from Lyra's face and her breathing ceased completely. "No," she whispered to herself. Her knees weakened and her mind went white.

No, no, no, no, no

"Lyra?" Yvonne's concerned voice said as she knelt beside her panicking friend. In their panicked state, Lyra hadn't even noticed that they'd fallen, nor had they noticed when Yvonne arrived. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Lyra's breathing was erratic and their heart was pounding so loud that they nearly missed what Yvonne had said.

"He's-He's gone. Elliot's gone. I-I can't find him. He's gone!" It was with those words that Lyra's resolve completely collapsed and they burst into tears. They wrapped their shaking arms around themself and released a guttural scream of frustration and grief.

. . .

Elliot didn't know how long he'd been gone. After a short rest beside that brick wall, he had since resumed his endless wandering. Cars rushed by him and people milled all around him, some sending judgemental glances his way. Time seemed to move in slow motion the longer Elliot walked.

His thoughts were muddled and his movements were sluggish. Nothing around him seemed real and he began to wonder if this was all just another nightmare.

With that thought bouncing around his otherwise silent mind, a tall man harshly brushed against his shoulder.

"Watch it, kid!" The man shouted.

Elliot had to regain his balance, the momentum nearly knocking him off his feet. He looked up at the man and cringed at the sound of his booming voice. "S-Sorry, Sir. I-I wasn't looking."

The man's face twisted and he studied Elliot with curious eyes. "Do I know you?"

Elliot's skin prickled under the man's gaze. "I-I don't th-think so, S-Sir."

The man stalked closer and Elliot nearly whimpered in fear, but he caught himself.

"You look really familiar. What's your name?"

"E-Elliot, S-Sir." The thought to lie hadn't even crossed his mind until after the words left his lips.

The man shook his head and pursed his lips. "I don't know any Elliots. You sure that's your name?"

Elliot nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. "I-I think so, S-Sir. It's what e-everyone c-calls me."

"Why do you keep calling me 'Sir'?" The moment the words left the man's lips, his eyes widened with recognition. "Oh shit. I know exactly who you are." Elliot shrunk beneath the man's scathing glare and devilish grin. "You're Christian's little whore, aren't you."

Elliot gasped and his eyes grew round as saucers. Tears flooded his eyes. He'd been so worried about running into Master all this time that he never even considered the possibility of running into one of Master's friends.

His voice was shaking uncontrollably as he said, "I-I don't know what you're t-talking about."

The man chuckled darkly and took another step toward Elliot. "I barely recognized you with all those clothes on, but it's definitely you. I've been wondering when Chris was gonna invite us over for another play session with you."

Hot tears trickled down Elliot's half-frozen cheeks.

"Where is your master, anyway? A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be wandering out here all alone. Maybe I should take you home to your master."

Elliot gasped. "N-No, p-please! I-I can't go back there! He was s-so c-cruel to me. P-Please, Sir. I'll do a-anything."

The man's devilish grin grew sadistic and Elliot's stomach dropped. "I really hope you mean that."

"I-I do, I s-swear. I'll do a-anything you want, just please don't t-take me b-back to him."

The man chuckled. "You know, I haven't been able to stop thinking about what your little mouth can do." Elliot's insides churned. "Maybe you should service me and I'll consider being generous if you do a good job."

Elliot instantly dropped to his knees. "I-I will! I'll be good, I promise!"

The man sharply grabbed Elliot by his bicep and hauled him to his feet. "Not here, you stupid slut!" He hissed through gritted teeth. Elliot squeaked as the man's fingernails dug into his soft skin. "There are too many people here. Follow me." The man yanked him down a narrow alleyway, where he sharply smacked Elliot's backside and shoved him back down to his knees. "There. Now, be a good boy and maybe I'll let you go free."

Elliot nodded frantically. "Y-Yes, Sir." Despite his best efforts, Elliot couldn't help the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach as the man began to unbuckle his belt.

It won't take long. Just have to let him do what he wants and he'll let me go. Then this will never have to happen again

Elliot's mind clouded over, his thoughts lost in the fog, and despite his best efforts, he started to cry.

As the man discarded his leather belt, Elliot flinched and whimpered, which alerted the man to his distress.

"Oh, you poor thing," the man said, his tone sounding genuine. His large hand gently grasped Elliot's chin and tilted his head up. Elliot looked into the man's hazel eyes, though his tears distorted the image. "Don't cry, pet." The man wiped away the younger man's fallen tears with his free hand. "I'm not gonna hurt you. In fact, I'll tell you what; if you do a good job, I might just consider taking you home with me."

Elliot sniffled. Those words did nothing to ease his distress. "R-Really, Sir?"

The man nodded and smiled. "Sure. I mean, how could I, in good conscience, leave such a pretty thing like you to become a stray?" He ran his fingers through Elliot's hair and gently caressed his cheek. "You'd be eaten alive out here. You'd be much safer, and more useful as my slave." The man's grip tightened on the back of Elliot's head, his fist knotting in Elliot's long hair. "Now, be a good toy and—"

"Elliot!"

Both Elliot and his assailant turned their heads in the direction of the voice, only to see several large individuals barreling down the alleyway.

Elliot gasped.

They noticed I was gone?

As they came into focus, Elliot recognized every one of his friends. Even Colleen was there, though she stayed near the back, wearing a worried expression and holding her hands over her mouth in shock.

Lyra was at the front of the group, a hand gun clasped between both of her hands. "Get away from him!" They shouted, aiming their gun at the man's forehead.

The man's grip tightened on Elliot's hair and he threw the boy against the back wall of the alley. Elliot yelped and crumpled to the ground in a pile of snow, hot tears thawing his half-frozen cheeks.

Lyra leveled their finger on the trigger, their hands as steady as stone. "I don't know who you are or what you want, but you're gonna step away from my brother before I paint these brick walls with your blood."

Elliot's eyes widened.

Brother?

The man scoffed. "No offense, lady, but you must be mistaken. If you're looking for your brother, he's not here." He gestured to Elliot. "This is just some common whore that belongs to a friend of mine."

Elliot's face turned bright red and a loud sob escaped his throat.

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "Christian Whitlock?"

The man raised a brow. "You know him?"

Lyra's brows narrowed. "Yeah, I know him. He's the monster that kidnapped, tortured, and raped my little brother."

Elliot completely broke down at that. He'd never wanted Lyra to know. He'd never wanted anyone to know. Now, everything was out in the open. There were no more secrets. It was all over. He buried his face in his hands and wept.

The man looked genuinely perplexed at this revelation. "That's—That's not true. Chris said he bought it. He said it sold itself to him."

A fiery anger burned behind Lyra's eyes. "Let my brother go."

The man shook his head. "Wait, hold on. You're telling me that Chris—"

Lyra clicked the bullet into place. "Now!"

The man flinched and raised his hands above his head. "Okay, okay, fine. Just don't shoot." Keeping his eyes on Lyra, the man gently helped Elliot to his feet. Elliot was trembling and sobbing. He was soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably on top of his terrified shaking. The man nudged Elliot in Lyra's direction, but the moment he let go of him, Elliot fell to his knees, weeping and hugging himself as tight as physically possible.

Lyra lowered her gun and instantly dropped to their knees beside Elliot, wrapping him in a loving embrace. "Oh, sunshine, are you okay? Are you hurt? I was so worried."

Elliot could hardly speak through the heavy sobs that wracked his small, underfed body. He kept his eyes clamped tightly shut, too distraught to even look at Lyra.

Broderick kneeled beside them and set a soft hand on Lyra's shoulder. "Lye? Let's get him to the car. I can check him for injuries there."

Lyra nodded. "Elliot? I'm gonna pick you up, okay?" Elliot didn't respond, so Lyra went ahead and gently lifted him into their arms. Almost instantly, he clung to them like a child to their mother, sobbing into her shoulder. Lyra gently rubbed his back. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here. I've got you. We're going home now."

The man watched them, still aghast by the news he'd been given. As Lyra carried Elliot to the waiting vehicle, Karine approached the man at the back of the alley. "What's your name?"

The man shook the fog from his mind and said, "Uh...R-Ryan Cooper."

Karine quietly repeated the name back to herself once before she said, "Great, thanks. I'll be reporting you to the authorities for sexual assault and accessory to kidnapping." Karine turned to leave without another word.

Ryan's eyes widened. "Wait, I swear I didn't know." Karine glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Christian told me the kid was a sex worker. He told all of us that. We had no idea he'd been kidnapped."

Karine's expression didn't change. "Save your excuses for the jury." She turned to leave again, but Ryan grabbed her arm to hold her back.

"Wait! Please!" Karine glowered at him and he instantly released his grip on her. He held his hands up placatingly. "I'm sorry, but I can help. As long as you don't report me, please."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

Ryan didn't even have to think about it before he blurted, "I can tell you where Christian is."

Karine's hard expression softened ever-so-slightly. "I'm listening."

-

Chapter 20 is finally here!! Sorry for the long wait, but seeing as this is my 20th chapter, I wanted it to be a little more whumpy than my normal chapters. I was really unhappy with how it was coming along, so that's part of the reason why it's been so long. The other main reason is holidays and traveling put writing on the backburner a bit.

Next up is a drabble request that's been sitting in my inbox for months, and I'm so excited to finally get to it! So stay tuned for that!

Taglist:

@l-antre-des-merveilles @pigeonwhumps @nicolepascaline @burningkittypoet @whumpinggrounds @suffering-and-misery @make-them-scream @honeycollectswhump @rabass @whumpdreamz @clairelsonao3 @ofclrosewriteswhump @cepheusgalaxy @pinkraindropsfell @mj-or-say10 @considerablecolors @whatamidoingherehelpme @whumped4whumplover @ladybizarre96 @theaustralianfrog

If anyone wants to be added to or removed from the taglist, please let me know!😊

[solohux]

Oooooo! Could I please get an Omega Prompt Number 1 of Alpha Kylo/Omega Hux? If you'd be so kind!

1. “Uh, no- Please stop! I HAVE AN ALPHA, YOU ASSHOLE!”

It had been a good night up until this point.

The Vomian system has been conquered. All five of its planets and subsequent moons have fallen under First Order rule, giving them access to one of the main shipping lanes in the Mid-Rim and planets that are so rich in ore that they’ll have enough to power a new fleet of star destroyers.

An acquisition on this scale requires a celebration.

The Finalizer is in orbit in the Vomian system, though Hux is sure that the residents on the planet below will be able to hear the music and commotion coming from the recreational hall. He looks down at his comm, checking the latest message on it before heading for the exit.

“Aren’t you staying, General? This is your victory!” Lieutenant Mitaka stumbles up to Hux, having left Thannison behind on the dancefloor.

“I think not, Dopheld,” Hux says, noting how much his beta friend smells like alcohol. “I have someone waiting for me. And I must retire before my eardrums cave in from this dreadful music.”

“It’s DJ Rebo! The hottest Ortolan mixer!”

Hux scrunches his nose as the baseline drops. “It’s just noise to me, I’m afraid. But you enjoy yourself, my friend. I’ll see you on the bridge tomorrow. Goodnight, Dopheld.”

“G’dnight, General, sir!”

With that, Mitaka finds himself back on the sparkling red dancefloor with Thannison, their arms waving in the air with the rest of the younglings of the Finalizer. Hux smiles, recalling a time where he would sneak out of his academy dorm to find the secret gatherings of cadets to listen to the newest and hottest music from Courascant and drink from the bottles of liquor stolen from their tutor’s offices. Their music was loud and their behaviour was wild; Cadet Armitage would report them all for gross misconduct to the head of the academy before sneaking back to his dorm and sleeping contently.

Hux chuckles to himself. He’s too busy reminiscing about those times at the academy to hear the footsteps behind him, to smell the scent of a sexually aggressive alpha in the air. The moment he doesn’t become aware, it’s too late. A hand is clasped over his mouth and he’s being pulled into a quieter and narrower corridor, body shoved against the wall.

His belly is full of whiskey and rum, sloshing around and making the feeling of panic more like a herd of banthas raging through his gut. His attacker is laughing, pressing their large body against Hux’s, forcing the omega to share the heat radiating from their knot.

“Little General,” the officer says. “You should know better than to leave a party alone. Didn’t anyone teach you that a lone omega is the perfect prey? You never know who might be watching you.”

Hux blink, suppressing a moan when the officer’s knee presses up between his pliant legs. He recognises the man—alpha—to be Colonel Verral, a very capable and well-trained officer who helped lead the last of their troops to victory in Vomian’s capital.

“Colonel,” Hux pants, struggling against the alpha’s great weight and against the blurriness of his own alcoholic intoxication. “Get your hands off me.”

“I saw how you were looking at me in that last siege, omega,” Verral says, practically drooling. He’s drunk too, though much more heavily than Hux. There’s a distant look in his dark eyes, one that only comes with copious amounts of alcohol. “You wanted me. You saw how strong I was in the face of danger. You were…turned on.”

“I assure you, Colonel, that I was not.”

“Even now, I can smell it on you.” Verral leans in and presses his lips against Hux’s cheek, licking his way down to his neck.

Hux cries out, throwing his head back, “Uh, no! Please, stop! I have an alpha, you asshole!”

“Where is he, little omega?”

“Behind you.”

The sudden use of Kylo’s powers brings Hux to his knees too, having been held up by the invading alpha’s body and, now that he’s been flung across the corridor, the shaking omega can’t find the strength to stand. He trembles, suppressing the urge to throw up.

“I thought you comm’d me to tell me you’d meet me outside,” Hux says, plonking his ass down on the floor and resting his spinning head back against the wall.

“I did,” Kylo says. “I got caught on the dancefloor. The kids wouldn’t let me out.”

Hux blinks, finding that his alpha has very two very flushed cheeks and some celebratory confetti in his dark hair. Even his clothes are askew.

“Ren. How much have you had to drink?”

Kylo looks at his fingers for a moment as if counting but then frowns, pouting. “More than usual.”

“The ‘usual’ is none.”

“True.” The alpha flops down beside his mate, taking him into his arms and cuddling him close until the scent of the invading alpha is gone from Hux’s senses. “Sorry I was late.”

The unconscious form of Colonel Verral lies in a heap across the way. Hux brings his knees up to his chest and curls into Kylo’s side, though they both end up sliding down until they’re lying on the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Don’t ever be late again,” Hux says, eyes fluttering shut as sleep nears. “Damn alphas.”

Kylo hums, pressing a kiss to the top of Hux’s head.

“Yes, omega.”

[cheesecakethots]

hiii I came across your blog and fell in love with your yandere illumi posts!! <3 can I ask how you think it’d be like if reader actually WAS pregnant and forced to carry the child to term?? if ur comfy ofc!!

ahhh thank you!!

tw// unwanted/forced pregnancy, implied noncon, reader depression, reader su1c1de attempts. this is SAD. just SAD. minimum comfort from this. also you have a baby and you don’t like it

this is the worst possible outcome

i try and kinda base reader off of how i would react in that situation, and my reaction would be BADDDD.

the second you realise that you’re pregnant you’re already making plans to throw yourself off the nearest balcony or down the steepest stairs in the manor. unfortunately, illumi is going to account for this. he’ll probably realise you’re pregnant before you even do, and soon enough the whole manor will be “baby proofed”.

there’s going to be butlers following you every step of the way, anything sharp is taken from bathrooms or your bedroom, even illumi has started to cut your food up for you. it’s extremely demeaning and only settles to make things worse.

you’ll start growing quiet as the pregnancy progresses, first out of spite and then out of genuine sadness. as far as you think, you’re truly just a womb to illumi and his family.

illumi will notice how depressed you’ve gotten, but he’s not exactly a comforting person. he’ll monotonously give you compliments, silently hand you bouquets of flowers, and tell the butlers to prepare your favourite foods as though any of those things are what you want.

occasionally, if his worry starts to grow, he’ll allow you outside into the garden for a couple of hours. he’ll even arrange a little allotment for you to plant your own. you might not even like flowers, or gardening, but the distraction is nice. if not, you can still wander the grounds, as though it can give you some illusion of freedom. it doesn’t.

illumi tells you that during your visits to the garden you’re truly on your own; no guards, no butlers, no maids, and none of his family watching. it’s not necessarily true. he’ll be behind you every step of the way, hidden in plain sight. he once believed you’d start appearing happy when no one was around, proving that it’s all a rouse and that you’re fine. he quickly discovered it wasn’t fake when the first time he watched you in the garden you found a bench and cried on it the entire time.

he starts to convince himself that when you give birth to his child you’ll recover, and you’ll love them and feel less lonely.

you don’t.

the birthing is messy, probably due to your stress, and it’s the first time anyone in the manor has seen illumi so nervous. it may not be obvious to you, but to those who have known him his entire life, it is.

you don’t love your baby. sometimes you can’t bring yourself to even look at it. you know that illumi and his family are going to be training it to be as bloodthirsty and murderous as them, so you tell yourself that there’s no point in even bothering trying to grow close with it.

in all honesty, you’re in for a fucking awful time. illumi might get irritated with your lack of love for your child. he might think another will make you feel less lonely. only when you stop talking and stop reacting entirely does he realise that he truly has broken you.

i don’t really enjoy writing about reader having kids because it would be my worst nightmare. literally horrifying. that’s why illumi is so damn scary, he’s having a child whether you like it or not.

if you do manage to get rid of it before you give birth, illumi is going to be fucking pissed. expect yourself to be taken into the basement for a week, at the minimum.

best case scenario for this is that reader can’t have kids. fuck this shit.

i could potentially see illumi turning away from his family and their insistence for him to have a bunch of kids, but only if your pregnancy was that bad. if you almost died during childbirth, i could imagine him being extremely shaken up about it, and may not want to see you that way again. that a very big if, though.

[3-2-whump]

Escape Attempt Last

<prev next>

As in, there were plenty in between this attempt and First Escape Attempt, but I won't enumerate them (unless you ask nicely, I guess)

Set one year after The Auction Floor

TW/CW: minor whump, slavery, pet whump, noncon body mod (tattoos, piercings), threats of permanent injury (not followed through), burning, inappropriate use of a clothes iron

The first thing he heard that morning was “Happy anniversary,” whispered softly over him as he stirred awake.

Khaled blinked. The blond man leaned over his bed, not a trace of a frown on his stern face. Khaled groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He had no idea what his master just said, though that might’ve just been because he was never much of a morning person. “What was that?” Khaled yawned.

“It’s our anniversary,” the man explained patiently as he helped him sit up. Those broad arms and bruising hands that once (and occasionally still) struck fear into Khaled’s heart now supported him as he climbed out of bed. “I brought you home a year ago, and so I wanted to give you something special today, if you’d let me…” he trailed off with a smile.

Khaled shuffled toward his wardrobe and began picking out a pair of boxers, denim pants, and a shirt. “A year, huh?” Though he was still in the process of waking up, having never been an early riser in his life, his muddy brain was slowly piecing it together.

It was well into midday when Khaled finally let its implications sink in.

One year of his life in slavery. One whole year of his life spent in servitude. His head swam in an unsettling mix of shock, anger, and grief, emotions that traveled down to his gut and twisted it into knots. A lot had happened in a year; the sixteen-year-old shot up a few inches in height, his voice had deepened, and his body hair (everywhere) had grown in enough to prompt his owner to teach him about shaving and ‘hygienic practices.’ That was an embarrassing talk, and one that he deeply wished his father could’ve given him instead.

It had been more than a year since he had seen his family; were they thinking of him? Did they notice he was gone? He brought home one of their main sources of income; how was his mother coping, providing for his siblings all on her own? They didn’t hate him for abandoning them, did they? Khaled blinked back the mist in his eyes at the thought.

The car lulled to a stop. “We’re here,” the Boss announced, taking Khaled out of his head. He looked down at the small box resting in his hands. Twin diamonds set in white gold rested inside the velvety interior. At first, Khaled thought it was a mistake, since his ears weren’t pierced. The man only grinned as he simply replied “not yet.”

They got out at the now-familiar tattoo parlor, entering soon after they opened. This was where the boy got his second and third tattoos, the initials and the skull and snake, respectively. The bearded, bespectacled man known only as Leo spotted them immediately and approached them with a welcoming grin. He made small talk with Khaled’s master as he led them to the back.

“So, we’re doing a set of piercings today?” he asked, pulling out a pair of single-use gloves.

Master nodded. “Ears, just one pair for now, unless we want more.”

Khaled let out an unbidden scoff. His master threw him a reproachful glare. There is no we, there never was, he wanted to scream. He didn’t consent to any of his tattoos, what made the man think he’d be okay with piercings? Yet his owner initialed him like an object and drew the symbol of his crime family on his skin, and he could just do that –he bought him, after all.

“Well, let’s get to it, then!” Leo said.

“Wait. I’ve gotta use the bathroom,” Khaled murmured. Master glanced at Leo, who merely shrugged. He silently pushed past the two men and made his way to the front of the store to the bathroom, where he locked the door and slumped against it as he settled onto the floor. He allowed himself a deep, shuddering breath behind the closed door, resting his head back against it with a dull thunk.

One year… he thought morosely. A streaky bathroom mirror bordered with stickers glared back at him under artificial light. Curious, Khaled got up from the floor and leaned over the sink to look at himself, to physically see how much he had changed in only a year. How much of these changes were within his control?

None of them, he realized sadly. He turned his newly shaved head side to side to look at his ears, taking in the sight of the unpierced lobes as much as he could. These would change too, and that was also out of his control.

Or was it? Out of the corner of his eye, Khaled spotted a slit of natural light seeping in from above. He turned; there, above the toilet, was a small window, vented open to let in fresh air. He assessed the window immediately, judging that he was still skinny and flexible enough that he could climb through, and without much else besides a desire to just be in control of something, he did exactly that.

-

With exception to the mall incident (which shouldn’t even count, he genuinely got lost), this had to be the worst escape yet. He was recaptured within two hours, tied up and thrown into the back of a car yet again, and now lay on his back on a large table, hands and feet bound to each corner as two unfamiliar goons stood on each side. Beside him, Master stood solemnly ironing a dress shirt on an ironing board. His resting bitch face was back, and he was re-ironing the same sleeve for the third time. Khaled gulped, only sensing a fraction of how fucked he was.

“I really thought we had made some progress this past year,” the man growled. A puff of steam escaped the iron as he set it aside and hung up the crisp white shirt. He then moved on to ironing a pair of slacks. “I trusted you, I provided for you, I gave you everything you could ever need, and what do you do? You run away the second I loosen your leash,” he continued, straightening out a seam with a bit more force than necessary.

Khaled cleared his throat and tried to look up from his awkward position on the table. “I’m sorry, Master, I just freaked out- “

“Quiet! Let me finish.”

Khaled shut his mouth immediately. He sunk back down, fixed his eyes on the dim ceiling lamp above him, and awaited his punishment with dread.

Master continued talking. “You know, the last time this happened, a friend of mine advised me to cut your tendons.” Beneath the quickening pounding of his anxious heart, Khaled heard the faint hiss of the iron. “I don’t want to permanently cripple you though, mostly because it would be even more of a hassle to care for you, but I will cripple you temporarily, at the very least...”

Khaled tore his eyes from the ceiling and looked over his outstretched toes. His master settled in front of his feet, the steaming hot iron in hand. Moist tendrils of heat lapped at his exposed bare soles. Dense as he may be, it didn’t take a genius to realize what was about to happen. Khaled trembled, then began struggling in earnest. The mob members held him firmly by the legs and shoulders as he thrashed frantically in his restraints, fearfully begging. “No, no, no, please, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry – “

“You’re only sorry you got caught,” Boss snapped. “Now hold still.”

Searing hot pain erupted in the soles of his feet as Khaled screamed himself hoarse.

After what felt like too much time and yet not much time at all, the goons above him let him go and started working on the knots tying him to the table. That must mean he’s done, Khaled thought, but why does it feel like my feet are still burning?

“Get up.”

The now untied boy paused rubbing his chafed wrists to look up at him in shock.  His master glared down at him coldly. “I said get up!” he shouted.

He can’t be serious. With horror, he realized the man was completely serious. “I-I can’t,” Khaled whimpered, “I -you wouldn’t -I can’t!” He caught his trembling lip between his teeth before a small sob could escape.

“I’m not going to repeat myself again, brat,” the Boss gritted out. “Get. Up.”

Khaled hung his head and nodded. He stiffly swung his legs over the table and gingerly lowered his burnt feet to the floor. The freshly blistered flesh barely touched the ground before an effusion of pain shot up his legs. He gasped in agony. His owner, meanwhile, stood in front of him in silence, waiting. Khaled sniffled, grit his teeth, and, with legs quivering and tears streaming down his cheeks, he stood up straight and tall.

“Walk,” Thomas said.

No. Khaled shook his head, completely unable to get a word out through the pain.

“Walk.”

Please, no, he wanted to say. He hung his head and shakily took a step forward, not making it even two steps before he collapsed. The strong arms of the Boss’ cronies caught him just before his knees could hit the floor. They scooped him back onto the table before one ran off to find the first aid kit, and the other ran off to get a basin of cool water. Khaled thankfully slipped into unconsciousness and took refuge in the nothingness.

-

A hesitant knock at the door brought Khaled’s attention back to the present, three hours after the Iron Incident. “Khaled, it’s me.” His master entered his bedroom soon after.

Facing away from the door in a fetal position on top of the bed, Khaled curled up even tighter. His heart picked up pace as he heard the man settle to his knees in front of his bed. “Your bandages need changing.” He flinched away when he felt the man’s fingers graze his injured feet, but ultimately he relented, letting his master unwind the soiled bandages as he winced and whimpered. Not all of the gauze was peeling off neatly. He heard a faint click of a tube opening, then felt cooling salve on his burned soles. Then, with a level of tenderness he did not think the Boss capable of, the man wrapped his feet up in clean gauze and taped the bandages in place. “One more thing,” he murmured softly, reaching into the first aid bag he brought with him.

Khaled had raised his head from his pillow, his red-rimmed eyes trailing down to his feet as curiosity overcame his pain and apprehension. His owner procured a pair of socks, gingerly slipping them over each gauze-wrapped foot. “There are plenty more of these, so if this pair gets dirty, you can just ask me for more,” he told him. “Comfortable, right?”

Khaled reached over and brushed his fingers against the soft fabric. His eyes misted with tears again at the act of kindness. “…They’re nice,” he sniffled. “Thank you, sir.”

The man replied with a pleased grunt before he lifted himself from the floor and stood, ready to leave. “Now then, is there anything else you need before I go to bed, Khaled?”

A hesitant silence. “No, but I-I’m sorry. Really.”

“I know,” he answered, his tone sincere. “Goodnight, Khaled.” Khaled flopped back onto the bed, face to the wall as he heard the door close gently behind him. What was that? He wondered. In the whole year that I’ve been here, he’s never been that gentle with me. Was that even the same man?He didn’t hear the faint click of the lock this time. In any other circumstance, this would give him hope, but at this point, the hope had been burnt out of him through the soles of his feet.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter

[montammil]

Forever Be Mine, part 3

Masterlist here!

CW: Yandere/creepy whumper, branding, vomiting, murder (not sawyer or rowan), degradation, failed escape, guns, drugging, noncon touching (nothing sexual but still creepy)

...

Four whole days passed by and Sawyer was miserable. Rowan hadn't untied him from the bed once during that time, except to use the restroom and shower every other day. He spent most of his time reading aloud to Sawyer, ranging from classic literature to collections of poetry, almost all about love and romance. Sometimes he'd even read him things he wrote for him, which just made it all the more disturbing.

In return, Sawyer would pretend to be interested in what he was saying.

He was careful not to give into his delusion too much out of fear of getting caught onto, or even worse, encourage him to take it further. It was already torture enough dealing with Rowan's constant cuddles and kisses.

The fifth day arrived, and Sawyer was ready for another dreadful day. He kept his neutral frown when he felt a familiar weight on the bed.

Rowan kissed his cheek. "Good morning, my love," he whispered into his ear. Sawyer's skin crawled at his words and the warm breath ghosting over him. "Sleep well?"

He nodded in response and stretched his legs out as much as they'd allow, flexing his wrists in hopes that Rowan would get the message and untie him already.

The ropes weren't getting any looser after all this time and his hands were starting to go numb. He wouldn't be surprised if he came out with nerve damage from how tight they were tied.

The taller man noticed what he was doing and frowned. "If I untie you, will you behave yourself?"

"Of course," Sawyer assured him sweetly, mustering up a small smile for emphasis.

Rowan eyed him before reaching over to untie his wrists from the bedframe above him. He rubbed his wrists with his thumbs and massaged each of Sawyer's fingers. It felt nice having the blood flowing properly through them again, but the contact made him want to recoil from his touch. He stayed still instead, letting Rowan dote on him as usual.

He remained still while Rowan untied the rest of his bindings. Once all of his limbs were free, Sawyer sat up slowly and stretched out his legs again, letting the muscles relax after being confined for so long.

Rowan watched him intently as he did so, not taking his eyes off of him for even a second.

Sawyer suppressed a shudder of disgust and smiled up at him. "Thank you," he said. 

Apparently, Rowan didn't know him as well as he thought, if he fell for that act.

Sawyer slid out of bed and stood up on unsteady legs. It was the first time he'd been out of bed in a while and he felt dizzy and disoriented.

Rowan placed a hand on his waist to steady him and helped him walk out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Sawyer stumbled around a bit, but Rowan kept him upright with his grip on his hip.

He sat down at the small round table and watched Rowan make breakfast for them both. They ate together in silence, though Sawyer barely touched his food. He couldn't be hungry even if he wanted to, being so inactive these past few days.

After breakfast, Rowan cleaned up and then walked Sawyer over to the couch in the living room. He sat down and patted the space beside him, motioning for him to sit next to him. Sawyer reluctantly obeyed and plopped down beside him. He immediately pulled him close, wrapping an arm around him and nuzzling his head into his neck.

"I'm so glad we're finally together," Rowan muttered into his skin. "I've dreamed of this moment for months now."

"I'm glad too," Sawyer forced himself to say. Rowan kissed along his throat and sucked gently at his pulse point.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the sensation of lips against his throat. The hairs on his neck stood up at the touch and goosebumps covered his arms and legs.

He thought of himself back in his apartment, curled up on the couch watching movies with a blanket wrapped tightly around himself. Or dancing alone in the dark room with the rain pouring outside. He'd never feel that kind of comfort ever again.

Not until he escaped from Rowan's clutches. It was hard to focus on escape when Rowan kept distracting him, however.

Rowan paused his movements. "Sorry, I'm moving too fast, aren't I?"

At least he had some kind of self-aware bone in his body. "A little bit," Sawyer bleated.

He sighed and pulled away from him. "I just get so excited when I think about us finally being together forever, I can't help myself." He placed a hand on Sawyer's cheek and smiled down at him. "But we have all the time in the world, so there's no need to rush. And since you've been so good for me, I don't mind being a little extra patient." He pressed their foreheads together, "I love you."

No matter what, Sawyer couldn't force himself to say those words. So he remained silent instead. Rowan didn't seem to mind thankfully, he just kissed Sawyer's forehead and pulled him into his lap.

"Let's watch a movie together," Rowan suggested. "How does Double Indemnity sound? It's one of my favorite films, I'm sure you've seen it before."

He was right. Sawyer had watched it hundreds of times, but he liked the thrill of it. From what he knew about Rowan, he probably liked it for the twisted romance.

The movie started playing and Sawyer didn't pay attention to it at all. Instead, he focused on trying to think of ways to escape from his captor. But even after five days, nothing had come to mind yet.

The rest of the day was boring. Rowan would make him more food, then they'd lie on the couch, and sometimes he'd watch him work on his laptop, pausing every once in a while to peck the top of his head.

Sawyer was feeling pretty useless. All he could do was lay around and pretend he enjoyed the attention.

Something changed the next morning. Rowan was in the living room, on a phone call to a client. Sawyer, however, was in the kitchen, looking through the drawers for anything he could use to defend himself with, having told Rowan he was simply going to make them both tea. He didn't want to use any knives because that was too risky, and Rowan had proven to be much stronger than him.

He was about to give up when he opened the medicine cabinet to see something familiar: Flunitrazepam. He remembered hearing about it once on a news article.

The very drug Rowan had slipped into his drinks in the first place, he figured. This would work better than a knife. Rowan was an idiot from what Sawyer knew, so quickly believing in his compliance meant he wouldn't expect this at all.

Rowan was still on the phone when Sawyer returned to the living room with Earl Grey tea for both of them.

"...Alright, that sounds good. I'll start working on your policy. Talk soon," he said, proceeding to hang up. He accepted the cup and took a sip. "Mm, thank you, my dear. I hope you didn't microwave it." His tone was playful, despite his humorously skeptical look.

It became easier throughout his kidnapping to fake a smile. "It literally tastes the same either way."

"No, it doesn't," Rowan complained. "The water should always be heated over a stove. But I forgive you since you're so lovely otherwise."

Sawyer sat down next to him on the couch, with his mug in hand. His palms were clammy with sweat, and he was having trouble keeping his breathing steady.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he raised the cup to his lips and took a sip, trying to steady himself before the inevitable. He glanced over at Rowan who was sitting beside him, enjoying his drink as if nothing was wrong.

Rowan gulped down the rest of his tea, not seeming to notice anything unusual about it. Sawyer was relieved that he hadn't suspected anything yet, but it was only a matter of time before he did.

Hoping to speed up the process, Sawyer put down his tea cup and massaged Rowan's shoulder, doing his best impression of an affectionate touch.

"Mmm," Rowan sighed, "your hands feel amazing."

He continued massaging his shoulders and arms for a few minutes until he felt Rowan start to slump against him. Sawyer stood up and helped lower him to the couch. He grabbed the phone out of his pocket, groaning when it required a passcode. He tried pressing the home button against Rowan's thumb, but it did nothing, much to his disappointment. 

Sawyer searched for his keys next but found nothing on him besides his wallet. Damn it. He looked back at Rowan's sleeping figure, weighing his options carefully. He wished he could find his phone, but he had no time to waste.

Pure panic took over his mind, and he threw a chair through the window.

Shards of glass fell onto the ground beneath them as Sawyer climbed out the window. He ignored the sharp sting in his palm as he pulled himself up, feeling glass dig into his skin.

Blood dripped onto the grass below, but he paid no attention to it. His mind was on nothing but running, so that's what he did.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He had no idea where he was going or where he would end up, but that didn't matter right now.

The important thing was getting away from Rowan, putting as much distance between them as possible. Sawyer had no idea how long it'd be before Rowan woke up and realized that he had escaped. 

Running was harder than he imagined it would be, especially since he hadn't exercised much at all while trapped in that lake house. Sawyer was already winded after about fifteen minutes of sprinting through the woods and had to slow down to catch his breath.

Sawyer wasn't the most outdoorsy person, but even he knew better than to head deeper into the woods when he had no idea where he was going. So instead, he veered off to the left and began following the lake shore, hoping it would eventually lead him somewhere populated. The sun was already starting to set and the sky was beginning to grow dark. Sawyer pulled his sweater tighter around him in an attempt to stay warm.

He couldn't stop, no matter how painfully irritating the wounds in his feet felt.

...

Rowan woke up groggily, feeling nauseous and disoriented. His head throbbed painfully and he struggled to sit up, still half asleep.

His heart nearly stopped when he noticed Sawyer was no longer beside him on the couch, and even more when he realized that the window had been smashed in.

Rowan's hand instinctively went to his pocket to check for his phone, relieved to find it still there, but that didn't change much.

He scrambled to his feet, nearly falling over from the sudden wave of vertigo that hit him.

Sawyer must've drugged him and escaped somehow. He should've known that Sawyer wouldn't have accepted their love so easily, but he was so desperately hopeful that he believed his lies. And now Sawyer was out there, potentially hurt or lost.

Rowan grabbed his keys and darted out the door.

...

Sawyer finally had to stop when he couldn't run anymore due to exhaustion. His body felt like it was on fire, burning up from exertion and fear. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his breaths came in short gasps.

He was about to take a break when he noticed something in the distance.

It was a blue truck coming across a dirt path. Sawyer waved his arms and limped as quickly as he could to it. "Hey!" he shouted hoarsely. "Please help!"

The car slowed to a stop and Sawyer collapsed while trying to rush to it. A man with blond hair and glasses stepped out and knelt beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Some guy kidnapped me and I escaped but I don't know where I am," Sawyer blurted out in a hurry. The stranger looked unsure of what to do, but Sawyer couldn't blame him for that. It was a pretty ridiculous situation and even Sawyer didn't know how he'd react if the roles were reversed. "Please, just let me borrow a phone, or take me to the nearest town--anything."

"Alright." The man helped him to his feet.

As he was being led to the car, he heard another car skid to a halt, just a couple of feet away. He turned around and his blood ran cold when he saw Rowan stepping out of his vehicle.

"Sawyer," he said, breathless.

The man stepped in front of Sawyer. "Is this the guy you were talking about?" He heard Sawyer mumble a shaky affirmative. "Sir, I think you should leave," the stranger spoke.

Rowan paid him no attention whatsoever, looking directly at Sawyer with pleading eyes. "Sawyer, come on. We can go back home now, just please come here." When Sawyer only remained silent, he dragged out a long sigh. "Sir, I know what it looks like, but my husband here has memory loss. I'm just trying to take him home. He does this all the time."

"I'm sorry, I just can't believe that. You can follow us to the hospital if you're so worried, but that's all."

For a split moment, Rowan snarled but gained his composure. "Sorry, you're... you're right. Thank you." He returned to his car, and the stranger urged Sawyer back into the truck.

"Thank you so much," Sawyer sighed in relief. The man nodded and shut the passenger door to approach the driver's side. 

Just as he pulled the door open, he fell to the ground, followed by screaming from Sawyer. He was still alive, but not for long because Rowan shot him three more times in the head. 

Sawyer opened the door to run away, but Rowan caught him by the back of his shirt collar and pinned him against the truck. He wailed into cold steel.

"Look what you made me do," he snarled. That was the first time Sawyer heard him use such a venomous tone. He slammed the barrel of the gun against Sawyer's skull and he fell unconscious instantly.

...

When Sawyer woke up, his surroundings were dark. There was a dim, flickering light bulb in the center of the ceiling and concrete walls around him. He was on the floor, lying on a mattress that wasn't all too comfortable. His leg was chained to the wall so he couldn't escape again. The image of Rowan murdering someone in cold blood flashed through his mind. The memories made him throw up onto the cold ground next to him.

It took him a few seconds to process what had happened earlier that day. The shock made him retch again, which turned into hyperventilating. He couldn't even focus on his hurt.

He got an innocent person killed. An innocent person trying to help him.

And it was all his fault.

Sawyer knew Rowan was crazy, but he didn't consider he'd go that far. He thought Rowan would be too cowardly to actually kill someone else. He'd been so incredibly wrong about him.

If Rowan wasn't afraid to kill someone, what else was he not afraid to do? What did Rowan have in store for him next? Would he kill him too? 

It wasn't long before he heard footsteps approaching the basement. Sawyer clenched his restrained fists. Keys jangled before a lock clicked. The door swung open and Rowan made his way downstairs, taking his sweet time.

He didn't look angry, not exactly. It was more like his calm demeanor was a facade that would crack any moment.

"You killed him," Sawyer spat out first. His voice trembled. "You murdered him. He did nothing wrong."

"He was stopping you from coming home." Rowan squatted down to meet Sawyer's eye level and grabbed a handful of his hair. "He was going to take you away from me." Sawyer gasped out of pain. Rowan forced his head back and met his gaze with narrowed eyes. "And I can't let that happen. I've waited too long for this just for you to be an ungrateful brat about it."

Tears pricked at his eyes. "You kidnapped me! If you weren't expecting this, you're fucking stupid!"

Rowan's expression darkened. His hand left his hair to clutch his jaw. "You really think you can talk back to me after you pulled that shit earlier?" Sawyer spat in his face in response. "Fine, that's how you want to play, huh? Since you're so insistent on being difficult."

Next thing Sawyer knew, Rowan had left him.

Sawyer thought he could be left alone again, but unfortunately, luck was never on his side, as Rowan came back down just a few minutes later with a metal skewer.

It looked pretty non-threatening on its own, but the glint in Rowan's eyes told him it was not going to be pleasant at all.

"I was going to spare you this, but you pissed me off."

Rowan walked over and yanked him upright by the chains on his wrists. The force on them hurt like hell, but he refused to scream in front of him.

He was suspended in midair, hanging from the wall from a hook, the chain from the cuffs keeping him up. The metal dug painfully into his wrists and his shoulders ached from being stretched out.

A pocket knife came into view and it grazed along his shirt until it ripped through the fabric. A warm hand caressed his skin and moved lower to his abdomen, rubbing his thumb over his right side, just above his hip.

He pulled away and dug into his pocket, pulling out a match. He lit it and placed it over the skewer, waiting until it was red hot. 

Sawyer was surprised his heart was still in its chest. "What are you doing?" He struggled further against the cuffs, but they wouldn't budge at all. "Rowan, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I've been too easy on you," Rowan said. "You're right, I was stupid for expecting this to be easy." He smiled wide at him, and never had Sawyer seen something so crazed in his life. "But I suppose this is just a lesson we both need to learn, hm?"

Before Sawyer could even fathom what that meant, Rowan had stabbed the skewer through his skin.

There was no sound from Sawyer's lips, his voice caught in his throat. The pain was unreal, searing into his flesh, tearing through skin and tissue and muscle. It burned and throbbed and felt like every nerve in his body was on fire. Every cell screamed at him to pull away, but all he could do was hang there uselessly, watching in horror as his skin sizzled around the metal rod prodding his abdomen.

After what felt like an eternity, Rowan finally pulled the skewer away and tossed it aside carelessly. Sawyer would've thrown up a second time if not for his stomach being empty. Instead, he gasped for air, choking and coughing on bile and saliva.

He didn't realize Rowan had unfastened him from the chain until he collapsed onto the floor below, landing hard on his side with a pained groan.

"Are you sorry?"

Sawyer only panted.

His hand snaked around the shorter man's neck, only lightly squeezing, but the threat was still there. "I asked you a question."

"Y-yes," Sawyer stammered. "I'm sorry."

Rowan ran his thumb over his Adam's apple. "Good," he murmured, smiling. "Can you tell me what you're sorry for?"

"For running away," he whispered shakily.

"And?"

"Drugging you, and... lying to you."

His smile widened as he nodded approvingly. "I'm glad you're starting to understand how this works, my love." He scooped him up in his arms with a soft grunt. "Let's get you a nice long bath."

[aftgficrec]

Hey! I love your page and getting fic recs! Do you have any fics where Neil goes or agrees to go to therapy? I’m good with Bee or someone else as the therapist too. It can be canon or an au. Thanks so much! :))

I was pleasantly surprised by how much we found for you! -A

previous recs:

‘another life to live’ here

‘Oakland’ here (completed)

‘you’ve been locked in here forever (and you just can’t say goodbye)’ here (updated)

‘If it means protecting you (I’ll pay my dues)’ here (updated)

‘Interlaced’ here (updated)

‘Regrowth,’ ‘To Be Close With You Is To Be Close With Myself,’ ‘I took a breath and took the knife,’ and ‘flashes of intimacy’ ch 4 here

‘call me in the afternoon’ here

‘The Wild Fox Den’ and ‘Roses Grow Between Bone’ here

‘(My Heart) Pierced By a Pin’ here (completed)

‘The Sun Still Rises’ here (updated)

‘day by day’ here

‘the shuffling of cards’ here

‘Ain’t it fun’ here

‘Breathe, idiot’ here

‘Healing’ series part 1 here, part 3 here (completed)

‘The Fear of Being Known’ here

‘That one party’ series and ‘keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?)’ here

‘Affection can be shown in so many ways’ here

‘Ghost of You’ here 

‘Make This Leap (Geronimo)’ here

‘Tenuous’ here

‘There is Nothing You Can Say’ here (completed)

‘of ice blue eyes & twisted veins’ here

‘don't break the glass’ (completed) here

‘Bad Apple’ here 

‘Phantom Pains’ here

‘Therapy’ here

‘Birds of a Feather’ here (updated)

‘In which Neil had Aspergers and Andrew finds out.’ here 

‘For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry’ here (updated)

‘I Wanna Get Better’ here 

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ parts 6 & 8 here

and more:

‘Ember’ here (completed)

‘leave the room (with a little dignity)’ here

‘Art Hoe’ here

‘Blame It On My Youth’ here (updated)

‘Black as is the Raven, He’ll Get a Partner’ (here)

‘Our body’ series, part 1 here, part 3 here, part 5 here

‘and all the roads will disappear’ here

‘crossed out’ here

‘Double Trouble’ series here

‘i had a dream (where you couldn't hear me screaming)’ and ‘hold me close, in fact bury me’ here 

‘Just closed eyes with nothing behind’ here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘SCAR TISSUE’ here

‘Lighter Fluid’ here

you may also like:

‘The Sound’ here

historians by cielalune [Rated M, 21508 Words, Complete, 2023]

He remembers when she didn’t smell of ash, but perfume. The times they’d play the radio to fill the quiet of the car, and she’d hum along. How she never missed a single exy practice, and cheered for him each time. She wasn’t all too different from Cass in the end. Just because she was dead didn’t mean she was buried. Five times Neil tries to come to closure about the person Mary Hatford was, and the one time he accepts who she came to be.

tw: heavily referenced child abuse, tw: heavily referenced rape/noncon, tw: heavily referenced csa, tw: heavily referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: sleep paralysis, tw: depressive episode, tw: flashbacks with blood & gore, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation, tw: victim blaming

Mommy Dearest by chronically_peach [Rated G, 915 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil doesn’t talk about his mother much but Andrew knows it’s a touchy subject for the redhead. After a session with Betsy Neil admits he’s been thinking about his mother and allows Andrew a glimpse into who Mary Hatford really was.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Pain of a Forgotten Face series by Rose_vine [Collection, 2 complete works, Updated 2021]

Part 1: Pain of a Forgotten Face [M, 3086 Words] Neil Josten is awoken by a face in his nightmares from twelve years ago, a face he barely remembers. When he tries to brush it off and go to practice, he realizes too late that some memories refuse to let themselves be forgotten.

tw: ptsd, tw: panic attacks, tw: nightmares, tw: hallucinations, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: blood/gore

Part 2: A Hand to Hold Me Back From The Cliff [Not Rated, 2132 Words] After Neil collapses on the court from a flashback from when he was younger, Andrew convinces him to go to therapy. This is his first session with Bee, and it is only Andrew at his side that gives him the strength to walk through the door.

tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

After the Beep by kanekei [Rated T, 1030 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2023]

Neil works through his relationship with his dead mother by leaving her voice messages that she'll never hear. It’s healthy, Bee says. He can’t help but think having the Minyards as patients has skewed her perception of what that word means. The number you have reached is not available. Please leave your message after the beep.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced violence

The Foxes by akaashisramen [Not Rated, 3386 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2023]

Trans Neil is on the run from his father and goes to his uncles house. His uncle promises him protection and allows him to play Exy as long as he goes to group therapy to process his mothers death.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: graphic nightmares, tw: implied/referenced torture

someday, we'll grow by nopunintended [Rated G, 2078 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew and Neil see Betsy for a couple's therapy session per Andrew's request.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Couples Therapy by P0tatonoah [Rated T, 2014 Words, Complete 2020]

I got a lot of comments (like 3 or 4) on my breakup fic asking for a part 2 where Neil and Andrew patch things up and live happily ever after… This is not it. But you can read it as an alternative ending if you want. 

tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual touch, tw: implied/referenced violence

NB: find P0tatonoah’s andreil break up fic ‘Home...?’ here

They sicken of the calm, they who know the storm by EdgySpaghetti [Not Rated, 3162 Words, Complete, 2023]

After storm there always comes the sun. People born into the storm, who growing up sees only black clouds and lightnings striking everywhere, just learn how to live with it, how to protect themselves from cold, wind and rain. They recognize the pattern, know that lightning will struck sooner or later and are prepared for it. What are those people to do when there is no more dark clouds? They don't know how to live in this environment, how to dress to not get too hot and how to prevent potential sunburnt. They never had to do that before. They're still expecting the lightnings.

tw: ptsd, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: anger issues

Can I finally stop running now? by gracefromspace [Rated T, 12110 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil is intrigued by a blonde baker with piercings, two therapy cats and strong arms.

tw: heavily referenced torture, tw: flashbacks with blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: negative self image

can't blame it on my youth by PoolToast22 [Rated G, 2650 Words, Complete, 2022]

The one where Neil Josten is Fine TM. But he's also in therapy. And today Bee decided to ask him that question.

hold on to happiness by minyarday [Rated T, 551 Words, Complete, 2020]

"self esteem had never been something Neil cared about. when you are a runaway that don't even have a place to call home, you learn to prioritize certain things and forget others" only that now he has the time to think about it

I'll Come Back To You by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 6900 Words, Complete, 2022]

Some of the things he’s learned today feel like stories about someone else: Neil switched to playing striker at a tiny high school in Arizona. Aaron lives in Chicago with his wife. Andrew’s cousin calls Neil every Tuesday, because Andrew is too stubborn to pick up the phone himself. But other things are clear truths, even if they’re more abstract: Neil’s mother died. Andrew is safe. Neil was supposed to stay, but part of him is gone. - - - - It's about dreams, reality, trust, patience, and determination. It's about making promises and keeping them. You'll figure out the rest.

tw: car accidents, tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced violence

I will help you swim by unojonex [Rated E, 11699 Words, Incomplete, Updated Oct 2022]

He’s slowed down, stayed in one place for more than a few months and it's all caught up with him. In his sleep, ghosts of his past haunt him. And they have no mercy. Dreams and imagination swirl together in a confusing mix of nightmares that don't go away, even when he's awake. -- basically Neil and Andrew getting together while also dealing with a lot of trauma

tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/refererenced torture, tw: heavily referenced child abuse, tw: suicide ideation, tw: graphic nightmares with blood/gore, tw: dissociation, tw: hallucinations, tw: panic attacks

But Touch My Tears with Your Lips by transjorts [Rated M, 4070 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2022]

Andrew is sitting across from him, expression neutral, fork in hand. He’d dragged the tinnes across the plate—purposefully, if Neil had to guess. Andrew has already cut the burrito up into tiny pieces and spears one morsel on the fork, lifting it to his mouth. “Hi,” Neil says. Andrew chews, very deliberately. “Do you feel better?” Neil frowns. “What?” Andrew eats another bite. “Did all that running make you feel better?” Neil sighs and glances down, noticing that his water has been refilled. He takes a sip. “No.”

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced sexual assault, tw: nightmares, tw: dissociation

let's just sit awhile by artiest [Rated M, 17291 Words, Complete. 2022, Locked]

Neil and Andrew don't have to keep fighting for their survival. They can settle now. It's hard, but they're trying. OR: During Neil's second year in Palmetto State, him and Andrew learn to take care of each other.

tw: severe mental health issues, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced torture,  tw: nightmares with blood/gore, tw: flashbacks,  tw: dissociation, tw: violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: vomit, tw: alcohol abuse/alcholism

I could never give you peace by freshtaylorswiftduck [Rated T, 3407 Words, Complete. 2022]

Neil has both bad and good days. Today is a bad day.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks

10 tips to stress less, without the tips by lumos_max [Rated T, 5404 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Fall 2020]

A lonely Neil lets his therapist bully him into checking out the clinic's support group without too much fuss, but little did he know he wouldn't be checking out the group that day, instead meeting a dramatic hunk of a man who drives a fancy car and forgets to wipe the cream off the corner of his lip. It's only fair that Neil tries to do it for him, right?

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

“God, I have my father’s eyes.” by perks_of_being_a_writer [Rated T, 673 Words, Complete, 2022]

This is based on Family Line by Conan Gray. In this short story, Neil is at a therapy appointment where he and Betsy dive into his parental issues. This covers Neil’s abuse from both parents (because, yes, Mary was abusive and a bad mother). This is Neil learning that it's not his fault his parents hurt him and accepting that he is loved.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

"There's blood on my/your hands." by markonasurface (idwir) [Rated T, 4667 Words, Complete, 2018]

The year after his 19th birthday, the other team decides to recreate the bloody locker scene complete with a ‘Happy Birthday, Jr.’ Instead of stuffing everything down, Neil has a complete freak out and sinks into a depression.

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: ptsd, tw: major depressive episode, tw: homophobia, tw: disordered eating, tw: vomit

Nothing is Safe series by hismiley16 [Rated T/M/E, Collection, 7 complete works, Updated July 2023]

Parts 3 and 7 recced here

Part 4: Written On His Skin [Not Rated, 11344 Words] The Foxes face the Ravens for the first time since Riko's death and things go as well as expected. Andrew is mildly injured on the court and isn't there to protect Neil when the new Evermore captain comes for him after the game. The team sees more than Neil ever wanted them to, including the ghost of Nathaniel he thought he'd buried in Baltimore.

tw: vomit, tw: bullying, tw: nonconsensual touch/assault  tw: dissociation, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced animal death, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

The Josten Anxiety Method by orphan_account [Rated M, 1721 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil talks to Bee about his anxiety.

tw: anxiety, tw: hallucinations, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Looking in the Mirror Never Felt so Good by Trimorphia [Rated T, 8693 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten's journey to becoming a real person.

tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Achilles Come Down by infernalstars [Rated M, 5017 Words, Complete, 2020]

Neil Josten was a liar before he was anything else. In the nest, sometimes his choices were between lying and dying. He’d had a decent amount of self preservation that he’d chosen the former. But now, being free, the world felt so heavy. He wished he’d chosen dying.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: graphic suicide attempt, tw: self harm, tw: blood, tw: eating disorders focus, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: vomit, tw: depression 

prompt: Neil x therapy bullet fic by @sadboyayeron [Tumblr, 2020]

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Things I'm doing rather than my 600 followers event and my school work: This

I'm sorry

Pairing: Mahito x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 2'560

Warnings: Forced Relationship, Implied kidnapping, Escape attempt, Brief gore, Murder (not reader), Blood, Torture (not reader), Knives, Noncon kissing, Mahito is his own warning.

Bonus points if you can see what two scenes I got heavy inspo from

“So let me get this straight.” Your friend had their elbows resting on their knees -  hands pressed together in a prayer position with their fingertips against their lips, “You were kidnapped.”

“Yes.”

“Not by a man, but by a monster.”

“Yes.”

“A monster that it seems only you can see, but it can still interact with everyone else despite this.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head on your way here?”

“Damn it, I’m being serious!” You hissed, looking towards the living room window nervously, “I don’t know how long I have, I need a place to hide.”

They held up their hands in surrender, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. It’s just…” Their expression softened, “you’ve gone for weeks, hun, when others find out about your explanation, they’re going to throw you in the loony bin.”

You laughed dryly, “Yeah, and he would have endless fun with that.”

A beat of silence passed as they looked you up and down, eyeing you with concern.

“You really aren’t making this up…”

There was another stretch of silence as the weight in the room officially set in.

“...How did you get out?”

Flashes of memories far too fresh for your taste sent a chill down your spine, and you shook your head rapidly - drawing your knees up to your chest.

In all reality, it was pure and honest to god luck. You could barely remember half of the events that led to your escape, adrenaline doing its job in being one hell of a drug, but frankly you did not want to remember.

The thought of possibly having to do it again would break you completely.

The cushion beside you dipped with weight, and you felt your friends arms wrap around you - hugging you closely to their chest.

Your flinch was ignored by the both of you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking you things like that.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.” They moved their hand in soothing circles on your back. “Of course you can hide here, although I’m trying to think of the best place to put you while also not triggering the shit out of you.”

That made you laugh a little, dissipating the tension ever so slightly. “Just don’t put me in a basement, and we’ll be fine.”

They chuckled, hugging you closer. “No basement, got it.”

A somewhat comfortable silence fell between the two of you, and for the first time in ages you felt hope that maybe, maybe, you would soon be able to relax.

“I have an idea.” They said, releasing you gently and standing up, “Follow me, I’ll need your help.”

You obeyed, sending a last worried glance towards the window as you followed them out of the living room. Eventually you came to a stop in front of a closet in one of the hallways.

“Where I’m planning on putting you doesn’t have a lot of heat, so you’ll need these.”

They pulled out a pile of blankets - each differing in texture and thickness as he handed them to you. You took them wordlessly, setting your chin on top of the pile to keep it from falling over. They looked towards you and smiled warmly.

“You can never have enough blankets when utility is expensive as shit.”

Your lips twitched upwards as you were directed back the way you came - your friend sporting their own bundle tucked under their arm as they eventually led you out their back door into their yard.

It was a quiet night, and very clear. It had been a while since you had experienced one of them.

“In the absolute worst case scenario, I thought this would be the best place.” They explained, nodding towards a small shed that was in the back left corner of their yard. “I haven’t used it in a while, but I still keep it pretty tidy so you should be somewhat comfortable until you feel enough time has passed to move to a place that’s a little more conspicuous.”

They leaned against the wooden door with their shoulder and it opened with little resistance. Inside, moonlight illuminated the contents, revealing an assortment of all kinds of tools - all of which had a thin layer of rust on them.

“Pretty much anything that’s sharp is either on the upper hooks or in a drawer, so unless you are explicitly trying, you won’t have to get a tetanus shot while you’re here.”

They set the blankets down on one of the steel counters before facing you fully, resting a hand on your shoulder. “But in all seriousness, by having you in here, you are completely out of sight. I’ll bring you food for as long as you want to stay, and you’re absolutely free to leave at any time. However, for the sake of staying as hidden as possible, I’d recommend only coming inside when you need to use the washroom. Is that okay?”

You nodded, tears filling your eyes. “I can’t even begin to think how to thank you.”

They smiled kindly, “You can thank me when this is over.”

With that, they left; leaving the door open behind them as they made their way back into their house.

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding left you in a long sigh. This was really happening. You were really here.

There was still the gnawing sensation in the back of your mind, screaming at you to go back before Mahito found out you were gone, but it was far too late for that. He would have undoubtedly noticed by now, and you’d be doing your dignity and pride a favor by not crawling back to beg for forgiveness.

You doubted he’d listen to such pleas, anyways.

You set the blankets down in a corner at the back of the shed. It was partially hidden by the counter, leaving a three foot gap for you to curl up and tuck yourself out of sight, in theory anyways.

The blankets your friend had carried were layered on top of the others, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to lay down just yet.

Drawer contents rattled softly as you pulled each of them open, taking some of them completely out of the slot to get a better angle with the moonlight to see what was inside before putting them back. You stopped at the fifth one, reaching in and pulling an old, dusty box cutter and holding it up to the moonlight.

It had definitely seen better days, but the slide wasn’t stuck which was good news. You pressed the blade out, snapping the rusted tip off and placing it towards the back of the counter out of harm's way.

You stood in the doorway for a moment analyzing the knife before slowly closing the door, enveloping you in darkness.

It would have to do.

Curling up in your corner, you buried yourself under several layers of blankets - exacto knife clutched closely to your chest. The exhaustion of it all came to a head, and you let your eyes shut for your first night by yourself in a long time.

You woke to the sound of glass breaking and muffled shouts.

Ice replaced all the blood in your veins and all the air was sucked from your body. You didn’t dare move, not a single inch. A sweat broke out all over your body, your grip around your impromptu weaponing tightening as you put all your effort into keeping your panic as silent as possible under the blankets.

A naive part of you questioned if it could be a robber breaking into one of the neighbouring houses, but that would have been too much of a coincidence.

You knew better.

The noises suddenly came to an abrupt halt, the previous evening silence returning, however its peace was now tainted with fear.

It was the not knowing that killed you inside. The overwhelming urge to leave the shed and enter the house to see what had become of your friend had to be stomped out, and you pressed yourself against the wall as much as you possibly could; hoping that your corner looked like a heap of old blankets rather than anything else.

There was no way to know how much time had passed between the crushing silence and the groan of the shed door on its hinges, but it stood still when you heard the sing-song call of your name.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are~.”

The inside of your mouth filled with blood as you bit down on your cheek to stop your whimpers from escaping, but it was impossible to keep yourself from flinching at a sudden, and incredibly loud *CRASH* sounded out. He must have been pulling things out of the cabinets looking for you.

The second time it happened you were ready, but you still flinched from the impact of several objects falling onto your blankets.

“There you are!”

Dread sank in your stomach and you pressed your lips together to keep your cries in while praying that his declaration was one of assumption of where you were rather than set in fact.

The latter was proven to be the case as the blankets were ripped away from you with ease, the shock from the cold air and exposure to your monster making you gasp.

As soon as he locked eyes with you, Mahito smiled - looming over you with satisfaction.

“Boo.”

You sat up, pushing the blade of the box cutter halfway out and pointing it towards him with as much menace as you could muster. He looked down at your weapon of choice curiously for a moment, then back to you, his smile widening.

“You’re so cute, you know that won’t hurt me.”

“I can fucking try.”

To prove your point you took a swipe at him when he reached out to pull you up. Mahito dodged it effortlessly, his eyes darkening for a moment before disarming you faster than you could blink. The gap between you was closed just as fast, the tip of the blade now inches away from your own face.

You braced yourself, not even daring to breathe as he looked between you and the knife, the tension in the air increasing tenfold when he pressed his thumb against the slide - pushing out the blade as far as it could go.

The cheerful expression he gave you next was like whiplash.

“This won’t do a thing unless I let it, watch!”

To your absolute horror Mahtio opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against the blade, dragging it upwards like licking a lollipop. You couldn’t take your eyes off the grotesque display as you watched his tongue split into two, only minimal amounts of blood dripping down his chin and onto your blankets before the gashes closed on either side once he reached the tip of the blade - creating two separate tongues.

“There you go,” he popped his lips, looking back towards you in glee, “see?”

It was a miracle you weren’t sick right then and there.

He began to say something else, but the words went over your head as you focused all your energy in not throwing up on the spot. After a moment, the sound of your name brought you back to reality temporarily enough to shift your attention to his face, and you let out a gasp of simultaneous disgust and surprise when you felt his lips press against yours.

If it wasn’t a task not to puke before, it certainly was now. You tried your best to keep your lips clamped shut, but the effort was just as futile as your attempt with the box cutter. The sensation of two tongues invading your mouth made you squeal, unable to move while Mahito did as he pleased - moaning into your mouth and making you gag at the vibration. You didn’t dare bite him or push him away.

He broke it off almost as suddenly as he initiated it, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips for a moment before it snapped.

His eyes were half lidded when he spoke, “Now that I have your attention, we really do need to talk.”

You were yanked up harshly by your wrist, the skin burning underneath his grip as he hauled you out of the shed back towards the house.

“Now, we’ve been together long enough to know each other pretty well, don’tcha think?”

You yelped when your shoulder clipped the back door frame. He hummed contently in response as he weaved his way through the rooms.

“I think so too, so you know that whenever I make promises, I’m going to follow through with them, right?”

He came to an abrupt stop, holding you so your faces were mere inches apart and searching your face as you nodded - giving you yet another smile when you let out a meek “Yes”.

“Good! So this shouldn’t be a surprise.”

He pushed on your shoulder, turning you away from him as he spoke and you came,face to face with the grotesque remains of your friend.

Disfigured didn’t even begin to describe the state they were in, they were massacred.

It was obvious he didn’t just transfigure them, the blood that streaked across the walls and ceiling like a horrific Jackson Pollock painting was more than enough evidence that he took joy in beating them within an inch of their life.

The fact Mahito had kept them alive was another torture inofitself.

The only indicator they were still with you was a sickening gurgle as they attempted to say your name as you made eye contact, and your stomach twisted into knots.

They only managed to get half of it out as a tear fell down your face, and bile rose in your throat.

The look you sent him was withering, “You’re a fucking monster.”

Mahito waved his hand dismissively, “Semantics, I told you what would happen and you didn’t listen.” He walked over to the remnants of your friend, propping his foot up like he was fucking Captain Morgan, “I made it very clear when we first got together, ‘leave me, and it won’t be just you who suffers the consequences.’,” he gestured to the lump beneath him, “so this is just as much your fault as it is mine.”

The sorrow in your heart quickly shifted to anger, “I didn’t make you do this!”

“Oh but you did!” The look on Mahito’s face was haunting as he reached into his pocket, pulling out the same box cutter from the shed, “and to make you fully understand that, you’re going to finish what you had me start.”

Confusion set in first before the gut sinking horror, and you shook your head frantically - too appalled to even say anything. You knew it was dangerous to refuse him - especially at this point - but you didn’t care. There was a very clear line in the sand that you absolutely refused to cross.

But it was clear that meant nothing to him.

He clicked his tongue, staring at you for what felt like ages before he gave you the most sinister grin you had ever seen.

“Tell you what,” he placed his palm on their skin. Your eyes widened in terror.

“Instead you get to choose how they go.”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2022. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

Taglist: @prettycutebunny, @sai-my-beloved, @we-are-so-close, @shorkbrian, @biby-24k, @forcefulkitten, @siphite

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

What Other Choice?

I've had this one written for the better part of a year and I think I can finally post it

CWs: this is a heavy one. please read all warnings. heavy suicide ideation, suicide attempt, bbu, ocd, harm ocd, anxiety, implied noncon, hopelessness, noncon drugging, just be careful

Masterlist

———————————–

Jesse hadn’t even been able to make it downstairs. He’d passed out somewhere between the kitchen and dining room, trying to get away from the guests tormenting him.

His aching body woke him sometime in the afternoon, tears falling before his eyes were even open. He whimpered, pulling himself off the ground, sweat covering his naked body. He could only manage to get to his knees, so he crawled to the living room and collapsed on the soft rug, pulling a throw blanket around himself as he shook.

Jesse felt a moment coming on, but he didn’t even try to make it go away. He welcomed it. The way his tears worsened, his breaths shortened. He didn’t muffle the raw, agonizing sobs ripping from his chest, body tensing and aching with the force of them. He allowed the soul-crushing feeling inside him to take over entirely and bring him down, make him unable to think. Because if he thought at all about what had happened last night -- the things he’d been made to do, the pain he’d endured --

Jesse shook his head, thumping it against the ground four times as he tightened the blanket around himself.

It had been the worst night of his life. Worse than the break in, than the first night with Mrs. Bakeman, and the night they were caught all put together.

-----------------------------------

Jesse gripped the table, whimpering as the next hit drew blood and began to soak through the boxers he was permitted to wear. He could feel each welt with agonizing accuracy as he tried to readjust and brace himself.

The stranger behind him hit him three more times before dropping the heavy belt to the ground and stepping back, which meant that Jesse was allowed to fall to his knees. He twisted the collar around his neck four times, resting his head against the table. What time was it? Eleven thirty? Midnight? He closed his eyes and ran very quickly through the chorus to Abi’s favorite song, ensuring her safety through the rest of the night. He wished that he was there to check on her in person, but that was the next best thing.

A hand gripped his hair and harshly pulled him backwards. He cried out as his new welts and cuts hit the ground, his head bouncing back against the hardwood. When his vision focused again, he saw the cold grin of Mr. Bakeman staring back at him.

“How are you feeling, pet?” he asked, reaching down and hauling him back up into a sitting position. Jesse’s stomach rolled. “The night’s still young. And we have something… extraordinary planned. Just for you.”

He nodded at a man Jesse had never seen before, a shorter one with balding hair and a smile that made Jesse’s skin crawl. He’d come in earliest that night, whispering with Mr. Bakeman, a bag on his shoulder. It was now that he opened the bag and revealed the contents.

The other guests of Mr. Bakeman’s harrowing houseparty drew closer, the smell of hard liquor and smoke making Jesse choke. At least the girls weren’t there to suffocate like he was, he thought.

The man removed a slick black case, unclipping the sides and showing the excited guests. A line of syringes, liquid shimmering and blue, sharp needles catching the dim light. Jesse’s breath picked up, body instinctively trying to move and regretting it at the flare of pain that followed. The man removed one of the syringes, eyes set hungrily on Jesse.

He risked speaking for the first time in what might have been days. “What--” he cleared his throat, “what is that?” He wished his voice didn’t tremble.

Mr. Bakeman jumped to answer. “This is a gift from Mr. Walker here. A very special concoction from WRU themselves.” He only smiled at the way Jesse’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’ve heard of it? You’re in for a treat, my pet.”

Two guests and Mr. Bakeman had to hold Jesse still as Mr. Walker approached with the syringe in hand. Jesse shook his head and begged for them to not go through with it, promising to take anything else without complaint, but in the end his resistance only fueled the crowd of drunken sadists. He stood no chance.

It started with a stinging in the entrance site, but spread and intensified quickly, feeling like his veins were literally on fire and burning him alive from the inside out. It took him less than a minute to start screaming, tears unbearably hot on his skin. He curled in on himself as the serum spread through his body, screams somehow intensifying when it reached his chest .

Everything he’d ever felt up to that moment was now nothing in comparison. He would have rather been shocked or whipped. He would have rather spent hours having his back sliced to ribbons with a dulled knife or spent a thousand nights with Mrs. Bakeman and relived the night he truly thought Mr. Bakeman was going to kill him because dying in any horrific way would have been better than being forced to survive the pain he was.

And then it got worse.

Jesse forced his eyes open when he felt hands -- awful, scorching hands -- pulling his arms and legs away from the semi-safety of his curled up body. He couldn’t even form words to beg them any longer, instead forced to watch helplessly as strong arms held him down much too tightly and ripped off his blood soaked boxers.

Every horrible stranger in that room held him down, right there, at his most vulnerable, and had their way with him.

He screamed and cried as much as he could, but they didn’t care. He couldn’t even really tell what exactly was happening, besides the fact that it was excruciating and humiliating. He was nothing but a body to them, a toy. A husk of a human being who held no sentience, felt no pain. He was only there for their pleasure.

It had gone on for hours, and even when they got tired and discarded him on the floor, he had no relief as the serum was still working it’s way through his body. He tried to crawl from them, much to their entertainment, but all they did was drag him back and continue the never-ending torture.

And all the while, Mr. Bakeman stood in the corner and watched.

-----------------------------------

Jesse swallowed down the bile in his throat, sobbing harder. His body ached so badly, inside and out, in every way he didn’t know possible. He wanted it to end.

He wanted to die.

He began to cast the thought aside with the other strange things that ran through his mind, but he paused.

What was he really living for? A master who hated and tortured him? To see the girls he was made for only one or two days a week, Mr. Bakeman breathing down his neck entire time? Getting through the day was hard before all this happened, but now…. what was the point? If waking up only made him want to live less and less every day? And if they ever repeated what happened last night…

Jesse shuddered and then curled up in the pain that followed. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he stared at the wall. 

Why should he keep putting up with it?

Slowly and unbearably, Jesse pushed himself back onto his hands and knees and crawled back to the kitchen, a small trail of blood following him. He didn’t know where it was coming from. His chest hitched with a sob.

The darkness inside felt bigger than it ever had. He was being crushed from the inside out. Every horrible thing that had ever happened to him had just caught up with him at that moment and he wouldn’t be able to survive going through it all again. He didn’t want to survive going through it all again.

He made it to the kitchen and collapsed on his side before going any further, allowing himself to rest his too-hot forehead on his arms and cry, gasping for breath.

He remembered when things were almost okay. Before the divorce, before the break in, before Mrs. Bakeman had pulled him aside. When all he did was cook and clean and take care of three bright children. When his routines worked and he did what he was trained for and nothing else. A time that only lasted a couple months, but that he longed to go back to.

He picked himself back up and made it to the counter. He ground his teeth together, a scream building as he hauled himself up, leaning heavily against the counter. Hoarse sobs make his throat burn, like shards of glass were stuck in the soft flesh inside. He swallowed and winced.

Part of him longed to go back to the beginning, but a bigger part of him that he almost didn’t want to acknowledge wished to go back farther. Back to a time that had been locked away by training, but had begun to break through ever since the girls were taken away from him. Maybe even since Mrs. Perez had brought it up that day in the park. Details were very fuzzy, but there was still something there, something that made his chest ache so urgently he felt physically sick. It wasn’t like WRU told him, that he had nothing and they gave him a life. He had something before the endless white of the facility and endless dark of life with the Bakemans. It kept him up at night, the thought that, maybe, he had a life that they took from him.

Now he only had constant pain and sorrow.

He wanted to end it.

He would end it.

Jesse swiped his arm over his eyes and bit his lip, opening the knife drawer. His hand shook as he took out a chef’s knife, holding it delicately in his hands.

There was nothing for him anymore. He had no control over his own life, except for this one last choice. Those in control only wanted to hurt him. He had no one to turn to for help.

He’d thought about slicing through his own skin with this very knife so many times he could almost know what it would feel like. Jesse leaned heavily against the countertop to his side, whimpering in pain.

A deep slice down his forearm? Or a hard stab in his gut? His heart pounded. Which one would be faster? The clock on the oven said it was nearly two p.m. He only had two more hours until Mr. Bakeman came home, and if he found Jesse still alive…

He took a deep breath and held out his left arm on the counter, palm up. His grip on the knife shook, but he tightened it as best he could and set the tip of the blade on his wrist.

Am I doing this? Am I really doing this?

What choice do I have?

He stopped. What other choice does he have?

Mrs. Perez had told him that if he ever needed help… if he ever needed out… What would she do? Send him back to WRU to be refurbished and sold off again? Just thinking about it made him want to drag the blade across his flesh and let himself fade away.

Or she would help him. Like she said she would.

Jesse sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut. He clenched his jaw, hiccuping for breath. Did he want to die? Or did he just want out?

Jesse dropped the knife on the countertop, gasping when it did knick the side of his arm a bit. He fell to his knees, unable to hold back a scream. He didn’t have long.

It took over a half hour of slow movements and tears, but he was eventually dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He couldn’t bend over to put on shoes, but it didn’t really matter. His feet on the bare concrete was going to hurt the least.

Aching pain shot up and down his body at his first step out the door, begging him to just turn around and finish what he’d started, but he refused. He was going to see if that was truly his last choice before he took it.

Jesse held to the side of the house for as long as he could before he was forced to go it alone, one arm wrapped around his waist as he hunched over and shuffled along. Even that felt too fast. Twice his vision went dark and he had to pause, hand reaching out for nothing. He counted his heavy breaths in groups of four, eyes on his bruised feet. He still couldn’t pinpoint where he was bleeding from.

The house next door was maybe a half an acre away, but to Jesse it seemed nearly impossible. Every step made him nauseous, his head pounding in time with his heart. Tears continued to flow freely down his face. All of his resolve went into taking each step forward, now that it was too far to go back.

Jesse collapsed on the front porch, feverish and hot, sweatpants soaking through with blood. It took all he had to feebly knock on the door, and hope that he was heard.

The afternoon sun beat down on him, stealing his weak energy. Maybe he wouldn’t have to kill himself, he thought, maybe he would die lying on Mrs. Perez’s front porch.

He thought briefly about what would happen to him if he died. He wouldn’t have a funeral. He’d most likely be sent back to WRU to be stripped for parts. But what would people think? Mrs. Perez might take pity on his bloodied body. Mr. Bakeman might be angry with him, even in death, for wasting all that money. Mrs. Bakeman would probably be too high to care. The girls… it might hurt them. Really hurt them. They would come to their father’s house, ready to see him, and they would be told that he’d died. Had they ever even lost someone before? They wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t know how to deal with the grief. 

Jesse wasn’t sure how, but he knew what grief felt like. He knew that it ate you up from your core, tearing your very being into little pieces as you begged and pleaded with the universe to give back what it had taken but was met with absolute silence. The worst part was the silence. How would they live? Feeling that kind of silence? That unique kind of loneliness that never really left?

Guilt crashed over him like a wave. What was he doing? He couldn’t leave them in any way. He had to go back. He had to.

He took a breath in preparation of getting to his hands and knees, not even thinking about walking again. The journey back to the Bakeman home would be ten times worse than before, but he had to make it.

Jesse grunted in pain, vision briefly turning dark, as he sat up.

The front door opened.

———————————–

(life has been crazy so if you asked to be tagged and aren't it's an accident and please just ask again!)

Taglist: @mylifeisonthebookshelf@boxboysandotherwhump@hold-him-down@winedark-whump@melancholy-in-the-morning@castielamigos-whump-side-blog

[solohux]

*COMES BURSTING THROUGH THE DOOR*

ALPHA PROMPT 10 ALPHA HUX OMEGA KYLO!!!!

please dearest Lottie? 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕

10. “You get off on the fact that I would kill for you. Don’t you?” Alpha Hux/Omega Kylo

When Hux arrives back at their chambers, Kylo is meditating. The sight of his beautiful mate is a welcome one after sitting in a meeting for hours, and Hux can’t help but let the stress in his shoulders melt away with a sigh as he hangs up his greatcoat and removes his heavy belt, feeling lighter in more manners than one. All the way through his meeting with the officers engaged in tomorrow’s mission to the moon of Hennet, he daydreamed of Kylo—his handsome face, his toned torso, those plump lips—and now that Kylo is in front of him, the daydream wasn’t enough.

The omega is sat with his legs crossed on the luxurious, ice-blue couch whilst a set of four training spheres float in the air around him, perfectly controlled by his immense power in the Force. They’re stable until Hux enters, and they falter slightly, wiggling as Kylo’s mind obviously becomes distracted by the scent and sound of his alpha entering their rooms.

Kylo keeps his eyes closed, though he takes a large intake of breath before signing, “How was the mission debrief?”

“Agonisingly pointless,” Hux says, rubbing his lower back. “Colonel Viol lectured us for far too long on the planet’s terrain and how it will impact the mission. Long story short? It won’t. And yet he went on and on for hours. Ridiculous.”

“You’re angry,” Kylo says, finally opening his eyes. He unfolds his hands and allows the four training spheres to fall into his palms before setting them back into their velvet-lined box. “And it’s not about the mission. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hux says, shrugging off his outer jacket, leaving him in a sleeveless undershirt, jodhpurs and boots. He toys with his gloves but finds himself pulling them tighter instead of taking them off.

“Hux? What happened?” Kylo rises from the sofa, head cocked slightly.

The omega approaches his mate slowly, obviously feeling Hux’s concoction of emotions through the Force and through their bond.

Hux sighs, shrugging. “I may have had to rough up an alpha or two after the meeting was finished.”

“What?”

“I lingered at the end of the meeting to avoid more of Colonel Viol’s geographical chitchat. Everyone else had left the conference room except Colonel Jakis and Lieutenant Sera, who must have thought that they were alone. They began speaking about you.”

“I’m guessing they weren’t saying nice things.”

“No.” Hux places his palms on Kylo’s cheeks and brings the omega in for a kiss, chaste and quick. “They weren’t. They were talking about how they have never seen an omega as pretty as you, how they’d like to ruin you with their two knots at once, how they’d gag you and use you. They soon stopped speaking when I took the Colonel by his neck and held him to the wall.”

Hux can see a flash of fear in Kylo’s eyes; being an omega, he’s been subject to that kind of talk for years and it never gets any easier to hear. At least with time, his size and strength has meant that he’s able to deal with such ministrations in creative ways but when he can’t, Hux will.

“I held my vibroblade to his cheek,” Hux growls. “I told him that I would gut him and eject him in pieces out of the airlock if I ever heard him speaking like that about my omega ever again. I may have sliced his face a little bit just to reinforce my point. Lieutnant Sera may have tried to initiate a scuffle and he fell onto my blade. What a shame. Both of them are currently in medbay with their wounds and their proverbial tails between their legs. I’ll have them demoted. No one talks of my omega like that. No one.”

Hux brushes his hands through Kylo’s hair, studying him. Even now, knowing that the other alphas have been subdued, he has no doubt in his mind that there are others who have perverted thoughts about his omega. He’ll fight all of them if he must.

“But you’re alright?” Kylo asks, leaning into the alpha’s touch.

“Of course,” Hux says, sliding his hands down Kylo’s body to hold his waist. “I would have killed them but I dread to think of the mess that would have made.”

To Hux’s surprise, Kylo moans. A soft but low sound is emitted from his throat before he swallows hard, cheeks turning redder. His lips part, tongue darting out to dampen them. Hux can smell the omega’s sudden arousal in the air, potent and ready, and he slides his hand down from Kylo’s waist to palm at the front of his pants, finding him hard.

“You get off on the fact that I would kill for you. Don’t you, Kylo?”

Kylo grunts, bucking forward against Hux’s palm. “Y-yes.”

“Did you like hearing about how I would have slaughtered those alphas to protect you?”

“I…”

“You like that I’d do it to show everyone how worthy you are of it all. You like that you’re mine.” Hux closes the gap between them, leaving one hand on Kylo’s straining cock whilst he uses the other to take hold of the omega’s neck, leaning in to bite and kiss at the claim mark that sits proudly upon Kylo’s pale skin.

“Ah! Hux!”

The alpha guides his pliant mate back onto the couch, pushing him to lie down so that Hux is able to take his rightful place in between Kylo’s spread legs.

“And I would, Ren,” Hux says softly, grabbing Kylo’s wrists and pinning them above his head. “I’d kill for you. I’d kill every alpha in the galaxy for you until there was no one left but me. Your alpha. Because you’re worth everything to me, Ren. And I wouldn’t stop at killing the alphas. I’d kill stars for you, Ren.”

Kylo smiles, “You have.”

“And I’d do it again. My omega. I’d do anything for you.”

“Alpha,” Kylo sighs.

Hux barely gets inside of Kylo before his knot pops; admittedly, he was already half-hard himself from threatening those two alphas. In the end, his galaxy begins and ends with Ren.

[linkspussy]

Literally impossible to find a good kink prompt list, kink bingo etc because it's either overtly Not Kinky (BDSM themes at most but it's just a collection of sex positions and acts. No flavour or fun.) or it's like "Ok guys here's your first prompt: rape :]". Nothing in between.

[ravenzeppeli]

Claimed

Chapter 40 - History Finds Itself Repeating|Formaggio + Illuso x Reader Angst|

Warning: strong/vulgar language, cheating, stalking, physical abuse, verbal abuse, noncon threat, choking [murder attempt], extremely dark chapter. MA.

2 Months Later

Formaggios POV

"Thanks," Formaggio muttered, tossing two 50s on the ground next to the random blonde that just finished sucking him off. "Make sure to keep your fucking mouth shut. Last bitch told my girl, she don't need to know this shit." He turned to the side, sliding the condom filled with cum off of his cock, letting it fall to the ground. The condom made a plop on the ground, his sticky white cum spilling out all over the alleyway floor.

"I'll keep my mouth shut," the girl muttered, snatching the money off of the ground. "Your cock is like, so amazing. I wish that you would be my boyfriend. You're so handsome."

A laugh escaped his lips, his eyes rolling. "You don't gotta compliment me for more money, honey. You did okay, I'll give you a little tip." He slid a 20 out of his pocket, this time handing it to the young woman on her knees in front of him. "My girl never fucking compliments me."

"I'm sorry," she replied, taking the 20 and shoving it in her bra, along with the two 50s. "If you're ever looking for a girlfriend, I would compliment you every day. A strong man like you deserves to be loved."

Money was a little tight, as it always is. The boss hardly paid him shit, but this little honey was feeding into his ego hard. Being complimented by a woman felt so nice. Why couldn't you compliment him like this? It'd be nice to hear how sexy and strong he was from the woman he loved instead of some random honey.

"Just take the rest of the night off, honey," he replied, slipping a 50 out of his pocket and handing it to her. "Buy yourself something pretty. And remember, if you run into my girl, walk the other way immediately. I don't wanna hear her pretty little mouth bitching me out for having fun." Fun, it was just harmless fun. Harmless fun that you wouldn't find out about again.

💜🧡💜🧡💜

Formaggio never felt bad about his personal affairs. What a man did in their private business was their business alone. He took good care of you, and he made sure that you were happy. Sharing you with six other men also made him feel less guilty about getting his dick sucked. It's not like he was fucking these girls and spending time with them. It was just a way to relax after a hard day. What's the harm in that?

He planned to approach you as soon as he entered the base, but you were already outside as he walked over to the front entrance. Illuso was standing directly beside you, his hand having an iron grip on your waist.

"I'm going to tell him what you've been doing," Illuso immediately snapped at you, unwrapping his arm from around you, his eyes locking onto Formaggio. "Are you fucking clueless? Am I fucking clueless?" He questioned, red eyes filled with a mix of panic and anger.

A feeling of anger quickly washed over Formaggio, looking past Illuso to land his glare directly on you. "What the fuck did you do?" He had no fucking clue what you could have possibly done, considering you were a pretty low maintenance and well behaved girlfriend. Never did he have to do much of anything with you unless he wanted too. He couldn't even recall a time where you've ever asked him for anything.

"I didn't do anything," you muttered, eyes dropping to the ground. "Just drop it, Illuso. You don't need to bring Formaggio or anyone else into this. We've all done bad things here, and my thing is less bad."

"Shut your fucking mouth," Illuso snapped at you, turning back to look at you. "It doesn't matter what the fuck we do! You mind your goddamn business like we mind ours when it comes to you! You fucked up, you crossed a goddamn line!"

"Fucks going on?" Formaggio questioned, stepping forward, feeling completely fucking clueless. What could you have possibly done that was so fucking bad? That would actually cause him to give the slightest fuck? "You cheating on us? That what it is?" A scoff escaped your lips, his eyebrows immediately shooting up in surprise. "Illuso, what did she do?" He didn't take his eyes off of you.

Illuso walked past Formaggio, hand reaching forward as he grabbed your jaw, his fingers tucking under your chin as he yanked your head up, forcing you to look at Formaggio, "She's been fucking following us. Watching us. For goddamn three months."

"What?" Formaggio questioned, more shocked than angry. How did he not know that you were watching him? This had to be a misunderstanding. You weren't capable of anything. For fucks sake, he never even let you use your stand, he just made you drive them around while they did the heavy lifting. All you were was just their pretty little girlfriend, you weren't capable of successful stalking anyone. Suddenly, he laughed, shaking his head. "If you caught her doing it once then it doesn't mean that she's done it before." Fuck, Illuso was an idiot.

At times, you were a little sneaky. He'll give you that. During the night, you always seemed to slip out of his bed before he woke up. It's been months since he's woken up, and you've been next to him. Even when he clings to you, you still find a way to sneak out of his bed and go sit on the couch or in the dining room. Maybe you were just good at walking on your toes, he didn't fucking know.

Illuso let out a dry laugh, "She's been paying the girls that have been sucking our dicks." His grip seemed to tighten as the amusement suddenly draining from Formaggios face. "Wanna know how I found out? It was pure fucking luck, all because I mark the money that I give Y/N." His eyes immediately cut over to you. "You think you're so fucking smart, don't you? Think you're smart enough to embarrass us and never get caught?"

"You only got caught because you do what he does," you spoke calmly, giving your shoulders a gentle shrug. "It's more complex than that."

Formaggio felt as if his heart was about to explode out of his chest. With disbelief, he stared at you, shocked that you actually did all of this without getting caught. "How did you catch her?" He muttered, not taking his glare off of you as he stepped closer, leaning down slightly so that he was in your face. "More complex?" He felt like a goddamn idiot. How could he not have realized you were watching him? How did he not know that you were aware of his cheating? Goddamnit!

"I went to get my dick sucked this morning. Asked the girl for change, and she pulled out a bunch of 20s," Illuso spoke, shaking his head. "When I give Y/N money, I mark the right hand corner with a small red x to see if she ever uses the money I give her. When I threatened to blow the girls brains out, she spilled the beans and told me everything. Says our little girlfriend approached her and some other girls, paying them to give us longer and better blow jobs."

"Why the fuck would you want us to cheat on you?" Formaggio snapped, his hands balling into fists. "Y/N, what the fuck?"

You said nothing, your eyes dropping to avoid his glare. Visibly, you were stiff, uncomfortable with how close he was. How close they both were. Nearly 8 months together, and still you couldn't stand him. Still you made him fuck you with a condom on as if he had a fucking disease. All this was starting to really get under his skin, and he had a feeling that Illuso felt the same way as him.

"She's trying to get us to fall in love with another girl," Illuso muttered, his hands dropping to your throat, jaw locking. "That fucking bitch told me everything Y/N. How you approached them and were paying them, telling them be extra nice to us and compliment us. I was wondering why all these random cunts were saying my dicks amazing and I'm fucking attractive. You fucking little.. you.. you fucking..." He seemed to be struggling to find the words, his hand grasping tighter at your throat. "How dare you humiliate me!"

Formaggio stepped back a little, not being able to take his eyes off of you. This was insane. He had no idea that you were capable of doing something like this for months without getting caught. On top of that, all these random women now think that his girl hates him! This was a tricky situation because both Illuso and him did tell you that they wouldn't cheat on you. So your lie was just a reflection of their lie, so what the fucks he supposed to do?

"Can't we just be coworkers?" You questioned softly, that getting you an instant slap across the face from Illuso. "Is that a yes? We can just coexist together. You can do your thing, guys, and it'll be fine. I just feel like it would be better if you both broke up with me." The slap didn't even make you flinch, the red handprint mark staining the side of your cheek, your head remaining in place.

"You're gonna get a beating," Illuso snapped, raising his hand, Formaggio immediately noticing that it was a fist. Quickly, he grabbed Illusos fist, dragging him away from you. "Man, what are you doing!? We need to beat her ass! She's been doing crazy shit all because she wants us to dump her!"

Beating you was something that Formaggio so badly wanted to do. Of course, he wanted to punch you in the face and bend you over his lap. So badly, did he want to scream at you and threaten you for stalking him, scare you so badly that you throw up all over yourself like you did last time. When you acted up, you deserved a good beating. That's just what happened when you crossed lines. But a different idea suddenly crossed his mind.

"You know, a lot of times you've stalked Illuso and I, it's been at night," Formaggio added in, causing Illuso to immediately freeze. "Doesn't Ghiaccio have a certain rule that forbids you from going out at night all alone? One that will get you in trouble with him?" You weren't the only one that fucking knew things.

Dread washed over your face, a smirk quickly spreading over Illusos. "I think I should give Ghiaccio a call and tell him," Illuso added in. "I bet he would be so fucking pissed at you. It would probably ruin your relationship with him."

Formaggio let Illuso go, staring into your eyes and finally seeing that you were nervous. This was his chance. "We aren't going to be leaving you. In fact, I think it's time you tell us something very important." He placed his hands on your shoulders, forcing you down to your kness. "Get on your knees you stalking cunt, don't say shit or I'll call Ghiaccio."

You let him force you to your kness, a smug look appearing on Illusos' face as he stepped forward. "Look up at us." Grabbing a fistful of your hair as he leaned down, he snatched your head back, forcing you to look at them. "You're so smart, aren't you? We'll turn you into a dumb bitch."

"Don't hurt me," you muttered, "I didn't do anything wrong. If anything, I was helping you both out. I don't love either of you, I want you to spend more time with those other girls. The less I see you both the better." How are you still not fucking scared of them? You should be begging not to get beat, not pushing them further!

"You disobedient bitch," snapped Illuso, but his grip loosened on your hair. "I love you, you clueless fucking cunt! I fucking love you! That was the first time in two months that I cheated!"

Formaggio smacked Illusos' arm. "It's not cheating if it's condom blow jobs! It's not cheating if we fucking pay for it!" He raised his hand again, wanting to slap Illuso, but that was mainly due to his frustration with you. "Illuso, fuck this bitch. Fuck her. She doesn't love us. She never will. She's just pussy, that's all she'll ever be in this family."

"I'm a part of this team, and you'll never be able to get rid of me," you spat out, your blank face turning dark. A glare that he found more cute than threatening spread across your face, your eyes locking onto Formaggio. "You are a garbage excuse for a man. I hate you, and I hate you more than I hate Illuso. Laying down next to you at night makes me feel sick. I hate when you fucking touch me. I'll never care about you cheating, it just makes you look like a jackass. Enjoy never being cared about by me, I can't stand you bitch. Call Ghiaccio and tell him. I don't give a fuck."

A man can only take so much before they snap. Fuck it, he didn’t give a fuck. Fuck holding back and not hitting you. With all of his force he raised his fist, cracking it into the side of your skull. He didn't care about damaging you brain. In this moment he found himself wanting to fucking rip you apart. If only he was allowed to use his stand on you. He would shrink you and finally make you feel fear. Risotto knew all of them so well, it was smart that he forbid the men from using their stands on you. If he didn't respect and secretly fear Risotto then he would break that rule, but he wouldn't dare cross his capo.

Your head roughly jerked to the side, blood beginning to pour from the side of your skull. If it wasn't for the grip that Illuso had on your hair, then you would have probably collapsed. Illuso immediately let go of your hair, your back leaning against the brick wall as your head limply hung. Silence came from you, your body still as a rock despite the drops of blood that puddled in front of you.

"You want me as an enemy, you fucking bitch!?" Formaggio yelled at you, pushing back Illuso roughly as he tried to grab him. "You got one now. We are done, just like you want. You aren't my girl anymore, and now that I have no reason to protect you I'm going to make your life a living hell! I'm going to break you, I'm going to destroy you!" He dropped to his kness in front of you, hands tightly grasping around your throat, forcing you to look at him. Forcing you to show fear. "CRY! YOU FUCKING CUNT, CRY!"

With speed, you spit in his face, coating his face with your bloody spit. A forced smile suddenly spread across your lips, and that smile was meant to taunt him. "I'm free from you. Why cry?"

"If we fuck her up too bad then we're fucked," Illuso quickly added in just as Formaggios hands tightly locked around your throat. "Let go of her throat man, you're going too far." He felt Illusos hand on his shoulder, attempting to pull him back.

Just as he was about to let go, you said something that completely stunned him. "You drove your family to suicide," you gasped out, your voice hoarse. "You're a curse!"

The consequences were clear and laid out in front of him. If you died because of him, then his death would follow. Hell, even Illuso might end up dying. Killing you would be him outright betraying his entire team as well as the little bit of love he had for you. He did love you, in his own sick and twisted way, but he didn't have self-control right now. Not after what you just fucking said to him. Today.. all three of them were going to die and he didn't care. He wasn't afraid of death. Fuck this. Fuck everything. How dare you bring up his mom and sister.

"I LOVED MY MOM AND SISTER!" He screamed, beginning to squeeze as tightly as he could, watching the life drain from your eyes. Good. Die. "Die, die you fucking cunt! I hope you burn in fucking hell bitch!"

"Formaggio, no!" Illusos fist suddenly cracked into the side of Formaggios face, his nose immediately leaking blood as he let go of your throat, his nose making a weird popping sound. "She's my girlfriend too! You can't fucking kill her! Want us all to die!?"

"FUCK HER!" Formaggio snapped, quickly getting off at you, ignoring your low gasps for air. He grabbed his nose, giving your stomach a rough kick as he got up, a satisfied hum escaping his lips as you finally yelped in pain. "Look at you now.. pathetic as you were the last time I beat the fuck out of you!"

Temporarily, he let his anger turn towards Illuso. He raised his hand to punch Illuso, freezing when he felt your hands suddenly wrap around his ankles, weakly attempting to pull his leg back. What the fuck?! You should be crying in pain and begging for his mercy!

"P-pussy," you spat out, voice hoarse and weak. "I.. would have.. finished the job!"

Formaggio reached for his gun, Illuso grabbing his hand, stopping him from blowing your brains out. "Let's just fucking leave. She's supposed to be spending the night with me. We'll just leave her at the base. Fuck it," Illuso told him, keeping his eyes on him. "Please don't fucking kill her. Just chill man."

You let go of his ankle, your hand grasping the brick wall as you began to slowly rise to your feet, your face completely hidden from him. From a gap in your hair, he saw a dark bruise on your neck, a pool of blood surrounding you. "Just.. fuck off.. let me be.. alone," you whispered, slowly moving towards the door. "Both of you.. no more.. relationship. Break up forever." You were hardly making any sense, but he could get what you were trying to say.

"I didn't break up with you," Illuso snapped at you. "And I never will! You are my girl, and you are a Formaggios girl, whether you like it or not! Go be a good girl and clean yourself up and go lay the fuck down!"

"Scum," you spat at him, a sigh immediately escaping his lips as he reached past you, opening the base of the front door with one agressive twist and push. "Bitch."

"Go to bed," Illuso commanded, pointing inside of the base. "We love you. Don't you fucking forget that. Families fight but they stick together."

"Neither one of you are my family," you muttered, this coming out more clear as you shuffled into the house. "Dumb fucks."

The insults were pissing Formaggio off, making him want to attack, but he was holding his composition. You were too far for him to successfully be able to prick your finger and shrink you without Illuso striking, and maybe killing you was a bad idea. In so many ways, you provided them with love and comfort. That was something that he didn't want to let go of despite almost taking your life. Fuck.. he made a mistake.

"You're still my girl bitch," Formaggio called out, keeping his eyes on you as you vanished into the base. "And I'll be coming back here expecting an apology real soon! Straighten yourself out cunt, I can do what I want with you! I'll fuck you up while I fuck you! I could fuck you right now if I wanted too!"

"Don't threaten to rape her man," Illuso snapped, his eyes going wide. "Fuck, you need to take a break from her! Stop talking to her, and you shut the fuck up too Y/N!"

Formaggio assumed it was over until he heard your footsteps immediately running back, something immediately crashing into the side of his skull. "Goddamnit!" He screamed as he heard something shatter, his hand immediately raising to the side of his face. Blood leaked from the left side of his face, his eyes trailing down to a broken glass ashtray in front of him. No way. No goddamn way did you actually come back and throw something at him. He was stunned, completely stunned that you dared to throw something at him.

"How about I fuck you!?" You screamed, rushing towards him. "I'll fuck you up! Want me to rape you!? I'll do it, I'll be the one that ends you before you end me!"

Illuso launched at you before you could get to Formaggio, lifting you up. "Y/N, relax! Nobody is raping anyone, for fucks sake! Formaggio, just leave, I'm staying with her!" He dragged you into the base, slamming the door shut. "Hey, do not fucking hit me! Stop it right now Y/N, I'm in no mood to have a fist fight with you!"

Formaggio stood stunned, his eyes wide, actual tears filling his eyes as he realized that he made a big mistake. It didn't matter if Little Feet made no appearance. With his bare hands, he almost murdered you. If Illuso hadn't cracked him in the nose, then he probably would have killed you. Fuck. This was very bad.

The blood pouring from his head and nose indicated that he probably needed to go get looked at. The pain he felt throughout his entire body was sharp, a low ringing beginning form in his ears. Almost killing you should have broken you, but from the banging and yelling that he heard from Illuso inside indicated he might have awoken something very bad in you. This was too far. All you did was stalk them and pay some girls to compliment them. Why does he instantly lose his cool? He just couldn't help it. The fact that you still didn't love him and made him wear a condom to fuck you.. it really bothers him.

Going in there and helping Illuso with you would be a bad idea, considering that you were attempting to fucking attack him. Hopefully he could convince you to keep your mouth shut or come up with a good lie. Fuck, he needed to convince you to keep being his girl too. Thank God Melone and Ghiaccio were out of town for a few days, and Pesci didn't fucking intimidate him. You just could not tell Risotto. Now that he was starting to calm down this wasn't worth dying for, and he might just end up getting fucking killed for what he did to you.

[rizzoto-whump]

Verlangen/fɛɐˈlaŋən/ - desire, craving

TW: Nsfwhump, noncon, yandere and multiple whumpers, captivity

Ronald and Artur loved James, very, very much. They adored the famous singer. They knew everything about James--from when the date he entered the military service, his favorite foods, even his home address. They grew frustrated when James performed for anyone other than them.

Their feelings of love turned into obsession, and when the opportunity arose, they consciously plotted a sinister kidnapping, intending to make James theirs.

But as time went on, James wouldn't give in, and they wouldn't let him go.

Verlangen - rikkacha - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

[angrelysimpping]

October Prompts Day 31: Trick-or-Treat

GN Wren (they/them); GN Reader (you/your); attempted sexual assault by a male police officer; mentioned blackmail; implied past noncon; violence 

Words: 886

You nearly scream as the window to your room slides open. Even though you knew Wren said they'd be stopping by to see you, you hadn't expected the smuggler to come climbing in through the window. 

It's almost worse that they're wearing a police uniform. 

"Hey, sweetness, lovely meeting you here."

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to throw something at the smuggler, lest they fall out the window. 

Wren gives you a rakish smile, seemingly amused by your reaction. Once they properly get into your room, Wren eyes you, blatantly checking out the costume you managed to scrape together. Your face grows warm as their eyes linger, but you don't bother trying to cover yourself. Wren's seen you in less, anyway. 

"Mummy, creative."

"Piss off, it's all I can afford since someone keeps stealing my clothes."

"Aw," Wren coos, "someone still mad about losing their monster hoodie? You knew the rules of the game, sweets, and you weren't complaining then if I do recall correctly."

This time, you do chuck something at Wren, a small, soft teddy bear that you’d bought on a whim. The smuggler catches it with a laugh. 

“Don’t be like that,” Wren says, all but purring as they grin at you, “or I might have to lock you up and we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Their hand drifts down to their belt, hovering over a pair of very real-looking handcuffs. 

A soft knock at your door saves you from having to deal with more of Wren’s shenanigans. 

The night goes surprisingly smooth. That is, after you assure Robin that everything is fine when you walk out of your room with a person dressed as a police officer that they've never seen before. You'd been wary about Wren joining you and Robin in taking the younger orphans trick or treating, but they behave themself. You actually find yourself thankful that the smuggler tagged along, showing your group little shortcuts and pointing out the houses that gave the best candy.

“Evening.”

A chill goes down your spine at the voice. A police officer. An actual police officer. One you’ve had to deal with before. And he’s looking right at you, a small, smug smirk on his face as he heads straight to where you are waiting on the sidewalk for the last of your group to finish up at the house. It’s the last one of the night, too, and you’d almost been lucky enough to not…what? What would this corrupt piece of shit have you do now? No permits were needed to trick or treating, no tulips were being ripped from their beds, and no uppity tourists with missing watches or rings. What could he possibly try to blackmail you with this time?

Not that it mattered, really. You’d still do whatever he demanded of you if it meant keeping the others safe. It’s a fate you’ve resigned yourself to. One he must recognize in the way you fold in on yourself a little but do nothing to get away from him as he picks up his pace.

His hand lands on your shoulder, harder than necessary and making you flinch. “Let’s go somewhere private.” You shudder, the scent of alcohol heavy on his breath.

You don’t hear Robin calling out your name as the officer leads you away from the group. You can barely hear the things he’s going to do to you muttered under his breath as he gets you further and further away from your friends, your heart pounding in your ears. 

You half expect him to bring you to his police car and lay you in the back seat, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shoves you into an alley and presses you against the cold wall.

You screw your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever comes next.

The crack of a baton meeting something solid makes your eyes snap back open.

The man lays on the ground, knocked out, a wildly grinning Wren standing over him, twirling a baton between their fingers. “Man, these things pack way more of a punch than I remember.” 

You exhale shakily, grabbing Wren’s attention as they look up from the officer. Their grin drops. “Hey, darlin’, you okay?”

You nod but there’s something in Wren’s voice, the soft look in their eye, that makes your resolve crumble, a few tears striking down your cheeks. You swipe at them hastily, giving Wren a shaky grin. “Yeah…yeah, I’m good.”

Wren studies you for a moment before nodding, “‘Course you are. That’s why we’re going out for drinks.” 

You try to object but Wren’s already got an arm around you, the warmth of their body and familiar scent comforting. Safe. Even though you didn’t fully trust Wren, you found them safe. You find yourself tongue-tied as you fight off a wave of tears. “The others-,” you finally manage to splutter out, “I need to take them b-back, and I don’t have- I can’t-”

“Sent the kiddies back to the orphanage all safe and it’ll be my treat. Besides, Landry owes me. You know Landry, right? Lil’ thief like you should. We’ll take care of ya, don’t you worry your pretty little head, got it?”

Wren gives you a firm squeeze, and you can’t help a watery giggle, agreeing as Wren pulls you along.

[suncaptor]

"You’re still in my cell. You’re my bunkmate, buddy. You’re my little bitch, in every sense of the term," really does go to show the underlying implications of when Lucifer says "bunk buddy" especially in combination with "top or bottom or do you want to share" as a threat huh.

[aftgficrec]

anonymous said: I’d like to rec you ought to give me wedding rings by absolutelithops on ao3 to anyone whose looking for a good andreil proposal! Here’s a link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30371577/chapters/74874351

Sure, friend, here you go! - S

you ought to give me wedding rings by absolutelithops [Not Rated, 11398 words, complete, 2022]

Andrew has the damn thing for a year before he makes any use of it.

or

Three times Andrew almost asks a very dangerous question, and the one time he does.

tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: animal death, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced kidnapping

[twigsofmanyfaces]

A picture by @elgrajaz of his oc creepy guy being cautiously comforted by my oc Trouble. Chapter 6 of Overcome is up on Ao3.

Excerpt:

“YOU UNGRATEF--”

“Careful,” Trouble interrupted, meeting the stranger’s gaze. He rested his claws against the captive’s throat. “I wouldn’t want my hand to slip.”

“Mm, mmph...”

“S-stop!”

“Someone could get hurt,” Trouble added, struggling to control his breathing. He tilted his head, resting his temple against the young man’s cheek. “I can’t believe I didn’t smell him on you. He’s very sweet.” He smirked as his captor’s eyes bulged. He made a show of burying his nose in blue hair and inhaling deeply.

“Let go of him.”

“I told you I could find my own meal.”

“He’s not for you.”

“Oh?” Trouble raised an eyebrow. “You’ve returned so quickly and I don’t see anyone else with you. Did you even mean what you said about taking care of me?” he demanded, pressing in with his fingertips so the captive’s skin dimpled around his claws.