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#threatened noncon
sparrowsage · 5 months
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The Warehouse: Digging Up Old Memories
Buckle up, because this piece is something. I really enjoyed writing this piece, even if it is a giant emotional show lol. A huge shoutout and thanks to @flowersarefreetherapy for giving me the general idea for this piece! I hope I did it justice! And thank you to @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, and @whumpcereal for cheering me on as always!
HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE!!!
TW: Minor whump (Jayden is 14), head injury, threatened noncon drugging, implied noncon (off screen), threatened noncon, mentions of past noncon and torture, implied future noncon, character death (off screen), suicidal thoughts, adult character referred to as 'boy', adult language, heavy grieving ((If I missed anything, please tell me and I'll add it!))
“No, I’m sick of doing this shit!” Jayden yelled, stepping back from Logan as the Keeper moved in closer, towering over the teen. “You never stay true to your word! I can’t let you stand by and hurt Sparrow after I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do!” 
Sparrow stared at the two of them, wide-eyed as fear grabbed hold of him. Sure, Sparrow’s challenged the Keeper’s here plenty of times, but that was because whatever ended up happening would happen to him. Jayden fighting back like this? All for his sake? It was thoughtful, but he couldn’t handle the wrath of the Keepers. 
Logan backed Jayden up against the wall, his hand shooting forward to the kid’s neck, taking hold of his throat in a tight grip just shy of suffocating him. 
“I’d be real careful about your choice here, boy. That piece of shit over there doesn’t deserve a hero, let alone a scrawny one such as yourself. Everyone always comes to the realization that they can’t escape this fate, one way or another. It’s easier for the both of you if you just follow my orders. So what’ll it be, pretty boy? Are you going to show me and the bastard here how much of a good listener you are and suck me off or are you going to continue your little defiant act thinking you can best me?” 
Jayden’s hands were around the Keeper’s wrist, doing his best to try and scratch Logan in an attempt to get the hand off his neck, but it wasn’t working. He was too weak. At the question, Jayden stared right back at Logan, his expression sharp enough to cut diamonds. 
“Jayden, please-,” Sparrow tried, on the verge of getting up from his spot against the wall by the door. Logan had told him to stay put and that if he moved, he’d force Sparrow to watch the worst Showing he’d ever put Jayden through. 
“Shut up, runt,” Logan growled, his head turning slightly in Sparrow’s direction. “He has to make this decision on his own.” 
There was silence for a couple seconds and Sparrow could feel the anger rolling off the both of them in waves. 
“You and this whole place can go rot in hell. I’m not following another one of your stupid orders just because you think you deserve respect,” Jayden finally spat, bracing himself against the wall before kicking his foot out, his heel landing a direct hit to Logan’s crotch. 
The Keeper could hardly brace himself before Jayden’s foot connected with his crotch, Logan doubling over for a moment, his hand never leaving Jayden’s throat, before a loud, angry scream erupted out of his mouth. 
In a fluid motion, Logan used all the strength he could muster and lifted Jayden by his neck and threw him to the left over by his desk. Sparrow watched on in horror as he saw the fear and terror flash across Jayden’s eyes as he went flying before the back of the teen’s head connected with the sharp corner of Logan’s desk. He crumpled to the floor as Logan doubled over again, letting out small groans of pain. 
“Jayden!” Sparrow shouted, his body jerking momentarily as he went to get up, but remembered Logan’s threat from earlier, causing him to stay in place. 
He wasn’t getting up and there was blood leaking out onto the floor. Sparrow couldn’t tell if he was breathing. 
“Jayden, get up!” he cried out, Sparrow’s whole body frozen in fear. 
“Shut the fuck up!” Logan yelled, his head turning sharply to look at Sparrow. 
“No, please, he’s not getting up!” Sparrow pleaded, his fists white with how tight they were balled up. “Please, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, just take him to the medical ward, please!” 
Logan chuckled slightly as he was finally able to stand up straight again. “Oh, you think a bit of pleading will convince me to get him treated? As if. The little shit deserved it, thinking he could fight back like that. Besides, you stupid mutts always seem to recover. He’ll be fine come tomorrow.” 
Instead of continuing on with what he had planned, Logan gave one last look to Jayden and Sparrow before deciding to leave his office. There’d be time to do things with them later. 
Sparrow let out a snarl as Logan passed him to leave, waiting for the door to shut before he rushed over to Jayden, his hands hovering over his body, afraid that a single touch would make his friend crumble into dust. 
#####
“No, you have to let me stay with him!” Sparrow shouted, desperately trying to fight his way out of Josh’s grip on him. “Let me go!” 
“You’re scheduled for a Showing and there’s no way you’re missing it,” Josh growled, his grip seeming to get tighter the more Sparrow fought. “He’ll be fine and you’ll get to go back to the main room and see him once the Showing is over.” 
“No, he needs me to stay with him since you fuckers won’t take him to the medical ward! Let go of me!” 
Josh stopped trying to drag Sparrow forward and out of Logan’s office, instead pulling him in close with an iron tight grip on both his wrists. Their faces were mere inches apart and Sparrow could feel the warmth of his breath. “I won’t hesitate to inject you full of muscle relaxers, boy. You know as much as I do that you’ll do anything to fight back during these things, so do you really want to give up being able to move all because you want to sit by your little friend?” 
Sparrow’s body froze at the threat, his eyes going wide for a moment. Josh was right, he couldn’t go through a Showing drugged up like that. He’d have no control (not that he did during Showings) over anything. He couldn’t get injected with that stuff. 
Josh smirked as Sparrow stayed still, finally continuing towards the door to the office. “That’s what I thought. Once it’s over, you’ll be able to spend as much time with the little runt as you want.” 
#####
Sparrow wasn’t proud of the Showing he just went through. It had to have been the most compliant he’s ever been during one, but he didn’t want it to be dragged out. His only thought and priority was getting back to Jayden to make sure he was okay. 
Josh had been surprised with how compliant he had been, as was the audience that showed up to watch. It was utterly embarrassing, but he didn’t care enough to not do it. He would have been the most compliant pet in the entire facility if it had meant getting out of that Showroom faster. 
Once the Showing was done, Josh walked him back to the main hallway before leaving him there to do his own thing. The moment Josh left him, Sparrow started running to the main rooms, his heart rate picking up as he tried to get to the room as fast as he could. 
Sparrow was almost certain Logan would have moved him out of his office during the Showing, so the most logical place to put him would be one of the main rooms. That, or Jayden had woken up and Logan kicked him out of his office and he made his way to their spot in one of the main rooms. If Sparrow didn’t see him in there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. 
When Sparrow finally made it to the doorway that led into the main room he and Jayden usually ended up in, he scanned the entire room, trying desperately to locate his friend. His anxiety was starting to climb with each face he saw, none of them being the young teen before his eyes landed on a figure in the corner where Jayden and him sat most of the time. 
He was there, sitting in his normal spot, looking completely fine. Jayden was waiting for him. 
Sparrow did his best to make it over to the back corner of the room, nearly tripping over several pets as they tried to sleep or just pass time, not even bothering to let out any kind of apology before making it over to his friend. 
“Jayden!” he called out, falling to his knees in front of his friend before embracing the teen in a tight hug. 
“You’re okay! You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he said, his voice going quiet as he spoke, letting things sink in. His friend was okay, he was alive and that was all Sparrow cared about. 
“Of course I’m okay. Do you really think a bump on the head would keep me down?” Jayden joked, hugging Sparrow back. 
Sparrow pulled back slightly, his hands still on Jayden’s shoulders, afraid that if he let go, Jayden would disappear. “It’s just - you collapsed once your head hit the desk, a-and Logan refused to bring you to the medical ward, and then I was dragged off for a Showin-”
“Sparrow,” Jayden interrupted, his voice a bit firm, “I’m alright, I promise. I can’t die that easily. Besides, we promised each other we’d find a way to escape this place some day. I can’t go back on my word, now can I?” 
Sparrow wiped at his eyes, tears starting to form. “I’m just happy you’re okay. And you’re right, we are going to escape this place one day. Just please don’t go pissing off any more Keeper’s. Leave that to me, I can handle it.” 
Just then, the entire main room started to fade out, a black abyss surrounding the two of them. Sparrow didn’t even notice, his entire focus was on his friend. 
Jayden looked at Sparrow with a soft smile, his head slightly tilted to the side.
“I know you can. That fighting spirit is what’s giving me hope that you’ll be able to make it out of here alive. If you hold onto that, you’ll be able to escape. Just keep fighting. For the both of us.” 
Sparrow faltered a bit at that. “W-wait, what do you mean by that? We’re going to get out of here together.” 
Jayden didn’t answer, continuing to give Sparrow that soft, warm smile that he cherished so much as he slowly faded away. Before Jayden was completely gone, Sparrow reached forward, trying to grab hold of him before he fully disappeared, leaving Sparrow alone in the dark abyss.  
#####
Sparrow woke with a jump, jolting up from his spot on the floor of Damon’s office. Looking around the dark and empty room, Sparrow couldn’t see Jayden and was a bit confused, but mostly worried. 
Where was he? Jayden had just been in front of him a second ago. He wanted that back, he needed it back. 
The more he woke up though, the more things finally started to settle in. 
Four days ago, he had been brought back to the Warehouse from his two week stay at Volkov’s island, having gone through his ‘welcome home’ Showing yesterday. Two months ago, Damon had been put in charge of training him, starting up a brand new hell for him to navigate on his own. Five years ago, the Keeper’s gave up trying to train him because he was deemed a lost cause and couldn’t be trained, instead just using him as a free-for-all and overall enjoying causing him pain, discomfort and humiliation. Seven years ago was when he had watched Logan give his one and only friend a death blow and then later finding out that Jayden had died all alone while he was in a Showing Josh forced him to go through, unable to be with him in his final moments to make him feel safe and loved. 
As reality came crashing back, Sparrow couldn’t help the gut wrenching sob that erupted out of his throat, the pet clutching his hands close to his chest as he curled into himself. 
Ever since it happened, Sparrow had done all he could to repress that memory to the point that he couldn’t remember it at all. All he chose to remember was that Jayden died. Everything else, how it happened, the look of fear and terror right before his head connected with the desk, how much he tried to fight back as Josh dragged him off to the Showing, Logan’s fucking taunting once he finally told Sparrow what they did with Jayden after he died, he wanted to forget and never remember. 
He had no idea why the memory resurfaced. It had been so long ago, yet now he could remember every detail clearly, as if he were reliving it in full. It was the worst pain he has ever felt and would probably ever feel. And what made it worse was that his head went and twisted the events, giving him the false hope that Jayden was alive and fine. But Sparrow could never see him again. 
After a couple more minutes, Sparrow wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. It had to have been close to morning, if he had to guess, and Damon would be here soon to put him through another day of hell. If the Keeper walked in and saw him crying or saw the evidence that he had been crying, Sparrow would never hear the end of it. 
Before he could put a cap on his emotions, he felt another sob bubble up from his chest and before he could stop himself, he reared his fist back, sending it straight towards the wall beside him. The wall stayed intact but Sparrow let out a loud shout before biting his tongue, cradling his hand. 
Why couldn’t one of these guys have killed him too? Why couldn’t he have had the peace that his friend had? All he wanted was to be with Jayden again, because he was the only one that made this place bearable. His smile and laugh lifted his spirits no matter how he felt and his presence made Sparrow feel safe, even though there wasn’t a single thing either of them could do when the Keepers came for them. If he didn’t have that, if he didn’t have him here, there wasn’t much of a point to keep fighting. 
The pain that now pulsed from his bleeding and possibly broken hand acted as an anchor to the real world for him and Sparrow was able to stop the tears from falling, taking in a couple deep breaths before he felt like himself again. Damon would probably point out his hand when he came in later, but right now, Sparrow didn’t care. If Damon was overly concerned about it, he’d get it looked at because unlike Logan, Damon wasn’t going to sit by and have a wound that looked serious enough unchecked. Sparrow had no doubt that the Keeper wouldn't let him die before he himself molded Sparrow into the perfect pet. 
Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green, @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whumpcereal (if you want to be added, let me know!)
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merakiui · 4 months
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PLEASE. please. if you would be so kind to give us some more stalker ex scara... the first time I saw it it just changed my brain chemistry, and I desperately need more </3
>:D thinking a lot about stalker ex Scara, but you get really drunk and he's the only one left to look after you......
(cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, alcohol/intoxication, toxic ex scara, modern college au, connected to the previous stalker ex scara concept)
Just,,, the fact that he's been so good and sweet ever since he casually slid himself into your friend group and you're not sure if you can trust him, yet here you are being completely, utterly, stupidly vulnerable in front of your very unstable ex. orz
Kuni's not one for parties; in fact, he'd much rather spend his precious time doing quiet, comfortable things with you (cuddling is so much healthier than drinking, after all! <3). Unfortunately, you allow your foolish friends to talk you into attending these brain-rotting parties so you can get drunk off your ass, and he can't let you attend them by yourself because there are too many risks. If you got too comfortable with Venti or Kazuha or even Tighnari while drunk, Kuni would never forgive you. >:( he's worked too hard cultivating this friendly image for himself, and he isn't going to let you or anyone else ruin it.
But right now everyone else is too inebriated to do much of anything, and he hasn't touched the drinks ever since he arrived, instead choosing to anchor himself to some forgotten corner of the room. He sulks and broods in silence, a scowl plastered to his face. He's just barely tolerating it for your sake. It's because he loves you that he's doing any of this. Soon you won't even need any of these troublesome friends. Soon you'll just have him, and he's all you really need. It was like that when you were growing up, after all. Even though, as painful as it is, you don't seem so codependent, so swept up in romance... You're so independent now, no longer the shy, fearful thing from the final few months of your relationship with him. He'd be impressed if he wasn't trying so hard to isolate you from each of your friends. It's a challenge when he's trying to tiptoe around Heizou's sharp, witty perception or Venti's proclivity for knowing everything about everyone despite no one knowing much about him.
But he endures. He's gone years without you; this is nothing.
If you were smarter, you'd know not to trust a word he says. That kind, soft smile he's perfected for this act is not to be believed, especially not when he's using it to assure your friends that he'll bring you home safe and sound. Heizou has his doubts because it's late and you can hardly walk a straight line, but he's tipsy just like the others and it's hard to deliberate like this. Besides, when has Kuni ever let the group down? :)
He takes you back to his dorm instead because Albedo's not home and he has the entire room to himself. While you meander clumsily over to his bed, kicking your shoes off and shucking your jacket in the process, he watches. You have no idea how much he depends on you, how much he admires you, so much so that it surpasses love and lust entirely. Without you, he's nothing. Or that's what he thinks because for the majority of his life he's felt empty and sub-human and so alone. But now you're here, and you can fill those empty spaces in his heart and give him a reason to keep living.
You don't seem particularly fazed when the bed dips under his weight. Rather, you blink sleepily up at him when he leans over you, gingerly reaching to help you out of your sweater. You're too drunk to protest or struggle, and you feel so dizzy every time you open your eyes. It's difficult to remain fully conscious when sleep is tugging at your body, pulling you under. You don't even realize he's fit his mouth on yours until his tongue is pushing past your lips. You manage to place your hands against his chest, intending to push him away, but you're so exhausted and tired. They fall to your sides, useless.
Kuni sits up and smiles at you. He says something about you being dumb and cute... or something about how your friends are fools. You don't really catch all of his obsessive murmurings when your attention is waning. Clothes are torn off; he kisses you a lot. You're not sure if you're reciprocating, but it certainly sounds that way when you're whining beneath him, arching against sodden sheets, your breaths coming in pants and huffs each time he ruts into you.
He doesn't have to worry about anything. Right now, it's just you and him in a corner of the world, locked away from everyone who might try to take you away from him. It's not like you'll remember much come morning. You don't need to anyway. It's better if you're lost and bewildered. That way he'll be able to craft a story to suit his fancy. You'll believe it. You'll have no choice, and Kuni knows how to tell very believable tales.
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eosincuffs · 5 months
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This drabble is my first writing piece, idk if I’ll make it into a fic. I started writing down some thoughts and an exposition for myself and then I was like, this might make a nice lil prologue. Idk tho im a virgin in this. So if what here’s and obligatory ‘pls leave me be, im learning ;-;’
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Dishonourably discharged 141 quartet! (also this is an xReader thought I promise)
0.7k words
Their last mission was an unfortunate, grievous endeavour. A negotiation of high profile hostage releases in an abandoned multi-story factory which turned out to be a trap. Even if it cost the terrorist organisation the lives of extraordinarily important extortion-able victims the notorious 141 needed to be wiped at whatever costs, which meant sacrifices had to be made.
Only no-one, not even himself, expected Price to chuck the bomb-covered man off the ledge, 2 stories down to where the hostages were held. It was a split second decision made to save the lives of his men and deal with the consequences later. And deal with the consequences they did. The explosion ripped apart the lower floor indiscriminate of flesh or rusted steel. The old, battered building caved in on itself momentarily, engulfing everything within into a black hole of scrap, wire and human cadaver.
By some miracle, although festering with wounds and decorated with jutted broken bones like arrows out their skin, the 141 lived to tell the tale. Undoubtedly, this would get them discharged for “on the field injuries”. And yes, they were supposed to be medically discharged . It was disappointing that their military careers (their sole drive in life) was over, but, yes, they were supposed to get a fat pension, full healthcare coverage for immediate family, veteran discounts for everything from groceries to mortgages and awards for their sacrifices. They were supposed to live the rest of their lives relaxing, hunting, pursuing unfinished dreams and/or hobbies.
Except the son of one of the hostages rallied the other victim’s families together and incriminated Price for manslaughter. The boys weren’t about to throw their Captain under the bus, disputed the charge despite Price’s pleading, and got incriminated by association. It wasn’t fair, but they were never going to win a trial against a pack of multi-billionaires, no matter the accusation or its validity. There was one small mercy though; because of their connections in the military they were dishonourably discharged instead of imprisoned (and considering that blood and money turn the world, it would probably been for a lifetime). Their records and achievements were wiped, awards taken away. They were left unfit for any veteran benefits and with chronic pain and injuries as the final nail in the coffin, unwanted souvenirs from that god forsaken mission.
Overtaken with hatred and disappointment from both the traumatic event and the experience of their metaphysical lives ending the men unwillingly closed this chapter: abandoned, empty, changed.
Ghost much like his callsign disappeared in the first week after they split, no contact, no goodbye, no nothing.
Gaz went to live with his relatives, trying to figure out his next step.
Price hunkered down with a former military friend and his family.
Soap moved back into his elderly, struggling mother’s small cottage. It’s the reason he went into the military in the first place, to help support his family.
They all knew these were temporary arrangements. The army was their life; no branch or association would take them now, not with the bold, damning DD stamped on their papers. But very little quality employers wanted mentally traumatised men whose chronic and psychic pain rendered them unable to do blue collar work. Yet, non had the education or the drive to be employable in a more specialised, less physical sector.
Was this the end?
Maybe. But the sun shone on Soap’s meadow, illuminated his life and showed him a new way out. He was at the right place, at the right time and managed to bump into you. You really should have just kept walking. Taking pity on the blue-eyed puppy, kicked in the teeth over and over by life’s unforgiving boot should have been a noble act. But feed a dog once and it will keep coming back, and unfortunately, this one has a rabid pack.
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angrelysimpping · 6 months
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The (Night) Hunter: Collab'oween Day 25
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Night Hunter x AFAB Reagent (they/them pronouns) 
the only prompt that wasn't mine that i actually got a chance to write for ><"
Warnings: noncon; anal; piss; weird ear stuff (thanks inky); mentioned wound fucking; violence; off screen character death (two reagents enter the trial and…..its questionable if even one leaves, actually); he’s huntin’; mentioned cum eating; a lot of crying; set in program three
Words: 2239
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“Run! Hide!” He laughs as the pair scamper back around the corner, sound bouncing off the tiled walls of the orphanage bathroom. “Make this fun for me.” 
He lets them get a head start, smile curling across his lipless face, before taking off after them. The two have already made it through the laundry room, but they’re not fast enough. No one ever is. One of them makes it out of the room by just a hair before he enters. So close he can almost smell them, stale clean Murkoff soap and the metallic stench of fear. 
They won’t make it to the courtyard.
They don’t even try.
The utility room is empty, doors untouched.
Hiding vermin, like rats.
“Oh, sure is dark in here.” He shuts the door behind him, the gas trap re-setting with a soft twang as he giggles. “What a shame.”
The air is dead still, almost unsettling silence. It lays thick on his skin, an oppressive blanket that would make anyone else squirm. 
Not him, though.
“You can’t hide,” he half sighed, half sung. With heavy, sure strides, he makes his way across the room. “You sure can’t hide.” A soft, stifled sound - a sob - from under the desk. “From the man with the x-ray eyes.” 
He reaches under the desk without warning, grabbing a fist full of hair and yanks. The fucker screams, sound mixing with his harsh laughter as he flings them across the room. 
A man. He stares up with wide, unseeing eyes, night vision goggles knocked from his face. He’s dazed, sprawled out on the floor. 
Glorious sight, the fear, the fucking terror.
“I’m gonna watch you bleed.” Almost delicately, he nestles the tip of his machete between the man’s thighs. Like any caught vermin, he tries to squirm back, but there’s nowhere to go, breath stuttering as he presses the blade against groin. “And then I’m gonna watch you die.”
The brick hits him in the face. 
He topples to the floor with a thud, metal scraping against concrete as he tries and fails to keep his equipment from taking any damage. A whoop of delight echoing around the room as he crashes.  
“LITTLE SHIT!”  
Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he’s back on his fleet in a flash. He’s up faster than they expected. He can tell from the way they freeze, smile dropping and breath hitching as he lunges for them and, for a second, they seem to shine brighter for him than before.
The other little cunt running around in the dark, trying to save their dumb friend. 
“That fucking hurt!” 
Hand clamping around their forearm, they squeak, wrenching back. But his grip is iron, holding on as they scramble towards the light, the courtyard, safe haven from his x-ray eyes. 
“No you don’t, slippery little glow worm.”
But they do, near falling into the light and dragging him along.
“Shit!” 
Those damned lights were too much. Blinding, burning his eyes, scorching out his brain with their intensity. He couldn’t even blink thanks to the way those doctor fucks had made his goggles. ‘Great bird of prey,’ bah.
They don’t get far, stumbling, panic blinding them nearly as complete as the light blinds him. A desperate attempt to vault a crate is their folly as he fights to drag them back. 
And it’s so easy to pin them over the edge of the crate. 
“Got ya now, shiny worm.”
They writhe under him, bucking and twisting. Any other time, he’d gut them with his machete and move on. But, they’re squirming, their ass grinding against his dick, and god when was the last time he-
The whine of the gas trap triggering scatters his thoughts. Muffled thud of the spike impaling flesh, panicked sobs. Ah, the man from under the desk, the one they were trying to protect. 
Now getting gassed out of their mind, having opted to run away instead of help.
“Looks like your little friend tried to sneak away.” Idly, he rocks his hips forward, letting them feel how hard their struggles made him. “Gonna just be you,” he grips his machete tight, bringing the tip to the hem of their pants. They freeze, a whimper building in their throat as he takes his time, cool metal kissing their skin. Hooking the blade into the ragged material, the cloth all but falls apart on contact. “And me,” he finishes, wild giggle bubbling up from his chest as their pathetic attempts to escape redouble. 
“Aw, little glow worm, what’s with all the fuss?” With practiced hands, unseeing, he drags the waistband of his pants down, freeing his aching erection. They still again as his cock caresses the curve of their ass, hot and hard, before a small sob leaves them. “Oh, wanna play nice now, do ya?” 
A broken, moaned no that he barely hears, too enthralled by grinding against their ass. Shifting his hips just enough, his cock angles down, sliding between sweat slicked thighs and-
“Ah, feels like you’re wet, like your cunt is starved for-fuck off!”
He should have expected the kick. Little fucker had put up a hell of a fight, much more than he’d ever expected from such a feeble looking worm. Why would they have stopped now? Just roll over and give up because he’d slid between their lips? Become a silent, submissive little pup because his tip had bumped into their clit? 
No, and they wouldn't be nearly half as fun if they had.
Before they can kick out again, he grabs them by the back of their head, dirty nails digging into their scalp as he yanks them back. “Do that again,” his tongue lulls out from his destroyed mouth, hot muscle trailing up the side of their neck, “and I’ll take you apart piece by piece.” Caressing the shell of their ear, they squirm, but not there’s not as much fight as before. “Even those bastards won’t be able to put you back together again.” They go stiff as his tongue wiggles into their ear canal, a small sound of discomfort escaping them. 
But, they don’t move.
Not even as he withdraws his tongue, gnarled teeth catching on their earlobe. Steadily adding pressure, they shudder under him, but they don’t try to squirm away like before. 
"Good mousy."
Blinded still, he nearly impales their hand as he embeds his machete into the crate, a pathetic hiccuped whimper making his dick jump. Another tiny giggle leaves him as he press their head down with one hand, grabs their hip with the other, and starts to rut against them. 
They don't move, don't try to stop him as precum smears against their skin. Good enough for him. He can't see their eyes dart around the courtyard, a group of white coated "doctors," or whatever they liked to call themselves, gathered at an observation window. 
He wouldn't have cared if he had. Might have even gone on to put on more of a show, even. But, no, not right now, not this time. Right now, all he can think about, all he can care about, is the warm body beneath him. Of their soft grunts, their attempts to keep quiet and not attract any other attention. Of the way their body responds, even if they don't want it to, slick gathering on his cock, precum mixing with his own and making his movements easier. 
Of the tight hole that the head of his cock catches against as he repositions himself.
They stiffen under him, rigid as he slows his thrusts, grinding the tip of his dick against the spot where their body fights to keep him out. “What we got here, huh?” 
“D-don’t.” Their voice is so soft he almost doesn't hear it, lost in his heavy breathing and the buzzing of the lights. “N-not…not there. Don’t. P-please.”
“Not here?” He presses forward a fraction of an amount, fat head pressing against the tight ring of muscles. Their breath catches in their throat, and he can almost taste their desperation, thick like battery acid on his tongue. “Maybe if you'd been a good lil mouse from the start,” he pants, reveling in how their body is slowly succumbing to his will even as they beg for him to stop, “I’d be able to find the right hole.” 
“Go back. W-we can g-go back. Into the d-dark.” Their voice is higher pitched than before, all broken, stuttered words and pleading tone. Not the same little shit who had the gall to smash his face in with a brick only moments ago. “I w-won’t r-run.” He can hear their suppressed sobs, leans down to swipe his tongue over their cheek. Salt, tears and sweat. They shudder as his tongue traces the curve of their neck, tucking his face into the joint between their neck and shoulder. Inhaling deep, he catches the same scent as before, chemicals and fear and, under it all, the faint trace of their own scent. 
Delicious. 
He doesn’t say anything, and maybe they know the answer from the way he smiles into their skin. They sob as his cock slowly pries open their rim, losing the fight to keep him out. 
He can’t help himself after that, glorious tight heat enveloping him. Hips jerking forward, they scream as he impales their ass in one brutal thrust. Friction almost painful, he laughs into their neck, wild giggles and labored breaths as he starts to pull out. They’re still screaming, sound no longer ringing in his ears as much as before but still a persistent annoyance as he snaps forward again. 
“Might wanna shut your yap, mousy,” he growls, teeth scraping over the tender skin of their neck, tongue flicking out to swipe over a pulse point. “Unless you want Goosberry to give you a new hole for me to fuck.” 
They move, twisting under him. For a second, his hand goes for his machete, before they settle again. He can’t see them, can only feel them: tight around his cock, trembling back against his chest around his battery, wild hartbeat against his teeth, surprisingly soft skin of their hip in his scarred palm, head still pressed down and forcing their cheek against the harsh wood. He doesn’t know how they’ve moved to bite into their forearm, dampening the sounds of their sobs and screams as he starts another torturously slow withdrawal. But he notices the muffled sounds, their attempt, their promptness at his threat.
The cackle he lets out almost rivals their initial scream as he’d forced them open. 
“Good mousy.” Punctuating the sentence with a particularly brutal thrust, he’s greeted with the smell of bleach. 
He stays buried deep as a hot gush of liquid splashes against his thighs. His grins grows even wider, biting down into their shoulder lightly, almost teasingly, as he rocked forward, making sure his cock pressed hard against their insides as they pissed themself. 
“Ay, watch the equipment.” 
They only sob harder into their arm, body shaking and burning as he abandoned his slow, deliberate tempo and starts a punishing pace, fucking them into the rough suerface of the crate. “Filthy little thing, aren’t you?” The words are murmured into their skin where he keeps his face shielded from the light. If they respond, he doesn’t hear it, his own harsh breath loud in his ears as he pistons into them. It’s easier now, lewd squelch every time he slams home and the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the courtyard. “You bleeding sweetheart? Helping me fuck this ass open?” Another stifled sound of misery, and his cock twitches dangerously. “Bet it’d taste good. Wouldn’t have to carve you out with my tongue either. Loosened your ass up real good, wouldn't be able to keep it in, would ya? Messy little mousy I caught, huh?” 
Their mouth leaves their arm. He can tell instantly, their sobs unfettered, copper tang of blood on their breath as they turn as much as they can to face him. 
“P-please.” It’s a pathetic little whine, almost lost amongst sobs and broken up by the force of his hips meeting their’s. There’s a buzzing in his brain, balls tightening. “J-j-just cum. Please.”
Electricity races up his spine, and he rips out of them. Letting go of their hip, he takes his cock in hand, blood and precum smeared along the shaft and coating his palm as he pumps himself to completion. A small hiccup escapes them as his hot seed paints their abused ass. 
“Don’t worry,” he pants, his own voice sounding harsh in his own ears, heavy with his accent and a barely restrained smile. “Don’t worry little mouse, my little glow worm.” They stiffen as his thumb hooks into their puffy asshole, tormenting the already tender muscles. “You were begging for me to fill you up, weren’t you nasty little worm.” They try to push back against him, try to scramble away, but their entire body shakes at the effort. Another one of his wild giggles escapes him as they collapse back against the crate. 
That must be when they feel it, how he’s already hard again, leaking new precum against their thighs. It’s in the air, the renewed fear, the electric iron taste on his tongue. 
Slipping his thumb free, he lines himself up, can feel their hole fluttering against the tip of his dick, begging for him to fill it again.
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Dialogue prompts for female whumper and male whumpee? NSFT/W please?
(TW: dirty talk, explicit dialogue, implied gagging, implied torture, multiple whumpers, blood, manipulation, gaslighting)
"Awh, my pretty boy just can't do anything right can he? I believe I told him, not to fucking cum.. so now he's getting punished."
"So big and strong, just to get turned into my living dildo... It's almost a shame you let it happen like this."
"On your back, spread your legs, you haven't earned your Mistress' warmth tonight."
"Don't hold your breath, pet, you'll tense too much for me to push it inside you."
"Oh I know you're close, but if you cum now I'll tie that little cock up and you won't get to cum for the rest of the week.."
"If you don't want it stepped on, you'll work a little faster at getting hard."
"You're lying Whumpee, but your body is pretty honest with me. You might be scared but you're still rock hard."
"You can't stop drooling now, can you? That toy is vibrating so hard I can still hear it rattling inside you.."
"If I let you out of that cage, you'd better crawl over here and let me grind against that pretty face.."
"I thought you'd try to fight but you've missed me, haven't you? Get on your knees and prove it, pet and I'll indulge you."
"P-Please Mistress... I n-need to cum.." "Oh do you? I don't think you've earned it."
"C-Can I ride it now Mistress? P-Please, I want to move.." "You'd better keep that position, this is a punishment after all."
"N-Not there... I-I've never-... N-Not inside..." "You? A virgin? Surely you can't be serious Whumpee... If you're good though, I'll be gentle on the off chance you are."
"Look at you, so hard you're dripping all over the floor..." "I'm sorry..!" "You'll be really sorry if you let yourself cum from your punishment. How many lashes were we on, pet? I'm afraid I've lost count."
"You made the mess, now clean it up." "You'd better lick every drop of cum off my floor or you're getting the whip."
"N-No! Whumpee c-can't be fucked by anyone but M-Mistress!" Whumper #1: "Who do you think let us in here with you, slut?" Whumper #2: "Your Mistress said we could play with you as much as we want." Whumpee: "N-No! She wouldn't do that! W-Whumpee's body is only for h-her!"
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whump-card · 8 months
Text
Sunless Lives Part 28: I Will Not Bend
~1380 words
CW: forced institutionalization, threatened noncon, drugging, force feeding, attempted murder, character thinks they’re going to die but they don’t!
First, Previous, Next, Masterlist
~~~
M BECK: I’ve decided something.
DR MANDAL: Oh?
M BECK: It’s not the preybonding. Ever since I was cured I was scared it was just the preybonding. But I don’t think it ever was. I love him. I always did.
DR MANDAL: Does this change your plans for your relationship?
M BECK: It means I have to do what’s right for Simon, whatever that may be.
~~~
“Is Matthew out yet?”
Simon asked that every time Christian visited, roughly every three weeks.
“No.”
The same answer as always.
“I want out.”
Christian’s response to that was the same every time too.
“I’m still working on your list, kid.”
Simon’s eyes darted up and around the visitor’s room. It was far nicer, far cleaner than the rest of Fort Summerwhite. The chairs were comfy. The table was unscratched. The lights worked.
It was a fine facade, and with an orderly watching him from the corner, there was nothing Simon could do to crack it.
He’d tried, the first time Christian had visited. He’d aired his ills until he was in near hysterics, and had been dragged away to a horrifying week in solitary. When he got out he’d groped and clung to Chett for days. The second time Christian visited Simon tried to talk about it, but received a threatening stare from the observing orderly and the distinct impression from Christian that he thought Simon had lost it. He’d taken a tour of the facilities, he said gently, everything seemed so nice.
You don’t need to lie to me to get out of here sooner.
So their visits went nowhere. Christian chatted brightly about how he was rebuilding the team, but never said why Gina and Devon were gone. He talked about how he was taking down the vampires on Simon’s list - he really was doing that, at least, which brought Simon some small relief. He talked about the VIU’s new director; someone had leaked Yarl’s dealings with vampire compounds, and he had to step down. Georgia Dune had replaced him, and was breaking apart compounds with a vengeance.
Simon tried to suggest that he return to work for the VIU, knowing Dune had a soft spot for him, just Christian shut him down.
“You’re still… You need to get better,” Christian said.
Better than what?
He felt fine. He only ever felt strange when Reeder slipped up and he was forced to take some unnamed, unknown medication. Otherwise, he felt sharp as ever - he was eating healthily. He'd blown through all the novels and puzzle books kept in the common room. He needed out. He needed Matthew.
He needed his goddamn phone call.
~~~
He expressed his need to Reeder, the next time he was pulled into the storage closet. It was just the two of them that evening, which wasn’t unusual - Hahns only participated half the time.
“It’s been weeks,” Simon said, doing his best to keep his voice sweet and hopeful rather than the angry snap it wanted to be. “You said you'd see what you could do.”
“I will, I will,” Reeder brushed him off, as usual. He stepped up close to Simon, which was not usual. Simon stepped back, and Reeder followed, until Simon’s back was pressed against the wall.
“What are you doing?” Simon asked, no longer sweet.
“I was thinking, now that you’re not skin and bones anymore, your body’s pretty hot. I thought we could take things to the next level.” Reeder’s hands slid over Simon’s hips. Simon knocked them away.
“No,” he said firmly, “That’s not part of the deal.”
“But it could be.” Reeder pressed his hands to the wall on either side of Simon’s head, boxing him in.
Get out, now.
“Nope.” Simon ducked under Reeder’s thick arm, but Reeder caught his shoulder and slammed him back into the wall, pinning him like he had that first day.
“I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” he hissed.
This is bad.
Maybe we -
No. Not this time.
Matthew wouldn’t want you to.
Simon jerked his head forward and slammed his forehead into Reeder’s. Reeder stumbled back with a sharp cry. Simon tried to dart around the large man but he caught Simon and shoved him back towards the wall. 
“Stop fighting me, you stupid fucking -”
As Reeder hurled slurs and curses, Simon tried once more to push past him. This time Reeder grabbed his shirt, lifted him up, and slammed him into the ground.
Too close to a shelf.
The clang of his skull hitting the bottom shelf of the unit reverberated through Simon’s entire body, stealing his breath, his thoughts, his sight. His head pulsed and pounded as it rolled limply to the side. He saw his own hand twitching uncontrollably through darkened tunnel vision, and Reeder’s feet stepping back and forth. Simon could distantly hear him, swearing and apologizing, then - he was gone. The door was closing.
Simon wasn’t sure how long he laid there, or if he was even conscious the whole time, but Reeder returned eventually. He dropped some things to the ground with a clatter and Simon saw a pill bottle roll into his line of vision. Then a hand turned his face upward and he saw Reeder leaning over him, pill chute in hand.
No.
Reeder pried open Simon’s mouth with ease and shoved the plastic cylinder in, hard and deep. Simon gagged, but had no strength to expel it. He moaned, the plastic in his mouth giving him an eerie animalistic sound. He heard the rattle of the pill bottle, and Reeder’s frantic mumblings.
“It’ll be okay, it’ll all be over soon, don't worry.”
Simon managed to lift a hand towards the chute in his mouth, but Reeder seized it and pinned it down under his knee.
“No no no no no, just hold still!”
He upturned the pill bottle over the chute, and Simon choked and teared up when he felt the pills hit the back of his throat. Then he heard the crinkle of a plastic bottle, and he had only a second to brace before his mouth and throat were flooded with stale water. He gagged and sputtered, sending water up his nose and down the wrong pipe, prompting uncontrollable coughing.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Reeder ripped the pill chute out and clamped his hands down over Simon’s nose and mouth. Simon convulsed on the floor, eyes rolling and free hand grabbing weakly at Reeder’s sleeves. The back of his head screamed white-hot where it was being pressed into the floor. The pills and the water swirled in his mouth 
“Swallow!” Reeder ordered, as he had many times before, “Just swallow, fucking stupid!”
Eventually Simon obeyed, swallowing painfully with a full-body shudder. Reeder lifted his hands and allowed Simon to gasp and choke for air.
“Reeder,” Simon croaked between coughs, “Reeder, please…”
“Shouldn’t have fought me. Dumn fuckin’ bloodbag,” Reeder said, breathing heavily. He stood, the pill chute clutched in a white-knuckled fist. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m really sorry.” He even sounded like he meant it a little.
“Reeder!” Simon rasped, but Reeder was gone. Simon was alone.
Get it out get it out get it OUT.
It took three tries for Simon to roll onto his side, still coughing and gasping. He felt blood creeping through his hair in hot rivulets. He brought a hand to his mouth and pushed his fingers into his bruised and battered throat. He hadn’t had to force himself to puke in a long time. It was - who was it? - Gloria. He had to empty his stomach after each of her visits. He’d gotten good at it. This would be easy.
But as his fingers weakly prodded and pressed, he only hacked and gagged, nothing more. He reached out, felt around, and found the discarded pill bottle; but his vision was so narrow and blurry he couldn’t read the label. The bottle dropped from his hands as it hit him.
I’m going to die here.
He reached for the door, but he didn’t have the strength to pull himself towards it.
I’m going to die here.
“Help.” His voice was a strangled whisper. No one would ever hear him.
I’m going to die here.
I’m going to die.
I’m going to die.
I’m going to die.
~~~
First, Previous, Next, Masterlist
Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper
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godsprettiestprincess · 6 months
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Oh bad things happen to jack au plus him turning into a kid upon meeting lucifer. Make dean sick to his stomach and violent about it
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Your need grows teeth.
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bxnnxrxd · 1 year
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“If I had a star for every time that I lied awake at night thinking of ways to take your breath away, I would rule an entire Galaxy.”
- Ultron
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“ This is what I deserve for helping Tony create you. “
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thewhumperinwhite · 1 year
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🔨 Are there any whump tropes that you'd love to see your OC's reactions to even though you couldn't or wouldn't put it into your actual story for whatever reason?
✂ Is there a plotline that you'd planned to write but for whatever reason has been abandoned?
🥇 Pick one aspect of your story that you are particularly fond of. Anything at all.
OOH okay good question. Alright. So.
Hammer: I really really love mind control, and for some fucking reason I have written a vampire story where the vampires don't have mind control!!!! a perfect fuckin opportunity and I have wasted it!!! I think I wanted it to be clear that Karim is stuck with Micah because of Good Old Fashioned Emotional Manipulation and not because of magic, and also because i hate myself i guess.
(i do have a... maybe-canon-maybe-not post-story arc for ATTD that heavily features mind control, which i am Obsessed With, but it would be extremely difficult to write it without a Big Big Spoiler for ATTD so once again I have placed myself in a mind-control-less hell of my own making. 😔
Scissors: It's more of a scene than a plotline, but I had a whole scene plotted out for WKW where everybody's at like a grand ball and Morden tells Thorne to dance with Andry, and Thorne goes into Good Boy Mode and picks up on how funny (and maybe hot) Morden and all the rest of the Falconers think it is when he pushes Andry around in public, and he gets carried away and kisses Andry in front of everybody. Thorne is not thinking too hard about Why Morden Might Like That, he was operating 100% on Make Master Happy So Master Wants To Keep Me instincts, and he's confused afterward about why Andry, who has been starting to very cautiously open up, is suddenly cold as ice again. And then Endure happens before they actually Talk About It.
Buuuuut I couldn't find room for it in To Bid You All Welcome, which was already getting untenably long, and it feels weird to have two different Big Fancy Parties within such a short time span, so it never worked out. sigh
Medal: I really really like my villains, lol, and especially how they fulfill their roles in their various stories. in particular I think the contrast between Morden and Micah (the Vampire Daddy from atykm) is really, like. Funny???
Because, like, Morden is competent and sexy and like... a fairy tale villain? Honestly, he's just a few extra sex crimes away from being a disney villain. if you asked him what his alignment was he would say its capital e Evil. And I don't think he's like a cartoon, really, either! He's just a guy who has a lot of power and thinks he's entitled to more social status than he's been granted, and he thinks he Gets To burn the whole world down if he wants to, and he's having fun doing it. So he's always a balance between Genuinely Reprehensible And A Real Threat while also being, like... "likeable" is maybe not the right word but like. Fun To Watch, certainly.
And meanwhile Micah is like... the exact opposite of that. What appeals to me about him is that he is, stripped of all artifice, Deeply Pathetic. He's just a sexual predator with magic powers. The only thing he's good at other than Being A Vampire is sensing other people's vulnerabilities and exploiting them (and he didn't even get that right tbc: he has Deeply Underestimated most of his coven and they're going to fucking Get Him pretty soon). So he's a really fun balance too, because i get to figure out how to make it clear that he is Not A Criminal Mastermind, he's just privileged and confident, without lowering the stakes of the story--he's a pathetic old man, but he also has the power to Literally Ruin Everything.
...this got longer than i meant it to be lmao BUT basically the thing I am proud of is!! the way both of these Evil Men fit into and improve their stories while..... also being exactly What I Want From My Whumpers at different times 😁
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