#threat of noncon
Erik and Carlo AU snippet where they got in some trouble on one of Erik’s many trips abroad. Erik tries to comfort his pet.
Inspired by this promptby@whumpwillow!
CW: captivity, false imprisonment, pet whump, blood, bruising, abuse, beatings, guns, vaguely implied threat of noncon
-
Carlo woke afraid, from dreams that seemed real and surroundings that seemed dreamlike.
The floor left him sore and cold. He shivered, tasting blood and noticing the cut on his lip had left a series of stains on the cement.
As he pushed himself gingerly to sitting, his Master’s heavy black coat slid down his shoulder. Holstrom had placed it over him open like a blanket, keeping him from the worst of the cold.
He sat against the wall and clung to it, wincing at a pain in his ribs.
“Look at me,” Erik said from beside him. Carlo turned his head.
A gentle finger brushed his bruised cheek, traced the unhurt part of his lip as of surveying the damage. “Laying hands on another man’s pet. They ought to be shot in their sleep.”
Carlo shivered. He closed his eyes and leaned into his Master’s touch. Far away a dog was barking. A metal door slammed down the hallway, the clanging wound reverberating through the door that kept them trapped.
“What else?”
Carlo opened his eyes. “Sir?” he whispered.
“What else did they do to you? Those men?”
Carlo swallowed the coppery taste in his mouth. “Nothing.”
The familiar, square fingertips slipped up by his ear and Erik’s palm cupped his hurt cheek, so tenderly it did not press on the bruising.
“Are you sure? I heard them talking.”
“One kicked me,” Carlo said. He didn’t want to seem like he was complaining. His Master had a cut on his eyebrow that had bled and bled, and was swollen now, making one eye appear half shut. But he did not want to lie.
Erik searched his eyes a moment longer. “It’s alright, love. You’re going to be alright. You know that, don’t you?”
Carlo swallowed harder, a painful lump rising in his throat. He had been scared before plenty, entire days in the warehouse he’d been afraid and alone, and he’d been scared when he’d first come to his new home and Erik had slapped him.
But he couldn’t think of a time when he had been this afraid. The men who took them from the back of the car had guns— not handguns like Keith carried at his hip but big guns like in movies, and thick green vests on their chests that made Carlo think they might be soldiers.
Erik sighed, and did something he never did— he took Carlo’s cold hands in his big warm ones and squeezed. “You’re with me, pet. I’m here. Remember that.”
Erik and Carlo AU snippet where they got in some trouble on one of Erik’s many trips abroad. Erik tries to comfort his pet.
Inspired by this promptby@whumpwillow!
CW: captivity, false imprisonment, pet whump, blood, bruising, abuse, beatings, guns, vaguely implied threat of noncon
-
Carlo woke afraid, from dreams that seemed real and surroundings that seemed dreamlike.
The floor left him sore and cold. He shivered, tasting blood and noticing the cut on his lip had left a series of stains on the cement.
As he pushed himself gingerly to sitting, his Master’s heavy black coat slid down his shoulder. Holstrom had placed it over him open like a blanket, keeping him from the worst of the cold.
He sat against the wall and clung to it, wincing at a pain in his ribs.
“Look at me,” Erik said from beside him. Carlo turned his head.
A gentle finger brushed his bruised cheek, traced the unhurt part of his lip to survey the damage. “Laying hands on another man’s pet. They ought to be shot in their sleep.”
Carlo shivered. He closed his eyes and leaned into his Master’s touch. Far away a dog was barking. A metal door slammed down the hallway, the clanging reverberating through the door that kept them trapped.
“What else?”
Carlo opened his eyes. “Sir?” he whispered.
“What else did they do to you? Those men?”
Carlo swallowed the coppery taste in his mouth. “Nothing.”
The familiar, square fingertips slipped up by his ear and Erik’s palm cupped his hurt cheek, so tenderly it did not press on the bruising.
“Are you sure? I heard them talking.”
“One kicked me,” Carlo said. He didn’t want to seem like he was complaining. His Master had a cut on his eyebrow that had bled and bled, and was swollen now, making one eye appear half shut. But he did not want to lie.
Erik searched his eyes a moment longer. “It’s alright, love. You’re going to be alright. You know that, don’t you?”
Carlo swallowed harder, a painful lump rising in his throat. He had been scared before plenty, entire days in the warehouse he’d been afraid and alone, and he’d been scared when he’d first come to his new home and Erik had slapped him.
But he couldn’t think of a time when he had been this afraid. The men who took them from the back of the car had guns— not handguns like Keith carried at his hip but big guns like in movies, and thick green vests on their chests that made Carlo think they might be soldiers.
Erik sighed, and did something he never did— he took Carlo’s cold hands in his big warm ones and squeezed. “You’re with me, pet. I’m here. Remember that.”
For@whumpawoman Angstpril! Day 26 - Left Behind
Sunny and Star Crew: @ashintheairlikesnow@whumpinggrounds@whumptakesthecake@justplainwhump@whumpfessional@winedark-whump@painful-pooch - let me know if you want to be added/removed!
CW: pet whump, BBU, derogatory language, threat of noncon, sad Star hours
***
“Get in there,” Mr. Bianchi growls, pushing Star into the small closet.
She turns around before she makes it in, growling at him. “No. I don’t want to.”
“Get the fuck in the closet, puppy.”
Star looks out across the hotel room, at Comet and Sunny, who are standing behind Mr. Bianchi. “I thought I was supposed to come with you, Sir,” she whispers, trying to make her voice as sweet as possible, trying to appease him. Anything so she won’t be left alone in the closet.
Mr. Bianchi sighs. “Do you understand where I’m going today? Why we’re here, not at home?”
Star shakes her head. Of course she doesn’t, he doesn’t tell them anything, and if he does, she can never remember it. Too many hits to the head, or something like that.
“Dumb slut.” Mr. Bianchi stares at her, smirking condescendingly. “I have a very important business meeting. One where I’m not renting you and Sunny out, so I want my good pets. The ones who make me proud.”
Both Comet and Sunny look uncomfortable, but they don’t say anything.
Star clenches her hands into fists, setting her jaw and jutting her chin out. “I can be good.”
“Please. You look pathetic like that.” Mr. Bianchi steps forward. “You always say that and you never follow through.”
“Don’t fucking leave me!” Star’s eyes are wild with anger, with fear. Not the closet. Please. She doesn’t want to be alone again. “I’m useful. You like bringing me to these things, I can help you!”
“Only when they want something to use,” Mr. Bianchi hisses. “Like you did for Mr. McIntyre.”
Star’s face flushes, remembering the Irishman and what he did to her…
“Whatever.” Mr. Bianchi takes another carefully measured step forward. “Get in the fucking closet. Don’t make me ask again, or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Star snaps, internally cursing herself. If she wants to avoid the closet, to stay with her bonded, she has to be good. She falls to her knees, batting her eyelashes. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, Sir.”
“You’d be more convincing if you weren’t swearing at me a few minutes ago. If you really want to be sorry, then get in the closet.”
“Please.”
“Would it make you feel better if I let Comet beat you first?”
For the briefest of moments, Star swears she sees revulsion flash in Comet’s eyes, but he schools his face back into neutrality.
Star is well and truly alone, and she focuses back on Mr. Bianchi. There’s no getting out of this, she can tell that much. “What if I run?” she asks, fire in her eyes.
“You’ll run where, puppy?” Mr. Bianchi lets out an amused, barking laugh. “You’ll leave the hotel room and everyone will see what a little slut you are and send you to the pound. If you even get that far. I know you won’t leave Sunny.”
He’s right. She can’t leave her bonded behind and that’s the only thing stopping her from leaving.
“Stop dragging this out and get in the goddamn closet.” He takes another step forward and grabs her collar. Her heartbeat stutters, she can feel his breath on her neck. “Come on, puppy slut. You’re either going to feel so fucking good when I get back—“ His hand dips down, brushing across her ass. “—or I’m going to make your life a living hell and add another scar to that gorgeous, fucked up face of yours.” He grabs her roughly, drawing a yelp from her. “What’s so bad about the closet, hmm? I want the truth.”
Humiliation washes over her, cheeks turning red. “I don’t want to be alone,” she growls. She hates him and she loves him and she can’t lie to him.
“Aw. Poor puppy,” Mr. Bianchi mockingly coos at her. “Get in the closet.”
Star looks at him with bitter fear and anger, her heart dropping as she backs into the closet.
Mr. Bianchi grabs black rope and winds it around her wrists, leaving them bound in front of her. “Get comfortable while I go get the gag,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “I need to store my puppy right.”
Star settles, sitting with her back to the side wall and her legs curled into her chest. Deep sorrow is already pooling in her lungs and the door hasn’t even been closed yet.
Comet and Sunny look down at her, not saying anything. She wants them to, wants them to scream and fight back and do *something,* anything to get her out of this.
They don’t move.
Mr. Bianchi comes back with a red ball gag and grips Star’s jaw, forcing her lips to part so he can shove it in her mouth and buckle it behind her head. “Pretty,” he says, brushing back her hair.
The gag is already hurting her jaw, drool dripping down her chin.
Mr. Bianchi backs away, giving Star a smile. “See you in a few hours, puppy.”
There’s no ceremony as he closes the door, just darkness falling over the shaking, scarred body of the pet. Some light peeks through the slats in the wood, but not enough to bring Star any sense of comfort. She doesn’t mind the dark. It’s the loneliness that gets to her in the end.
She hears the door to the hotel room slam shut and knows that she’s well and truly alone. WRU made her need to be touched, made her crave something against her skin, a caress or a fist or a whip. She wasn’t meant for loneliness.
Star tips her head back and starts tapping out a rhythm on the wall. All of her first memories are songs, she doesn’t know why.
A single tear slips down her face, she tongues at the gag. This isn’t her purpose but it has to be now. She was bad and this is what bad pets get.
They have to be alone.
She has to lean how to be alone, so she keeps tapping out the rhythm of the song like she’s drumming with her bound hands.
For@whumpawoman Angstpril! Day 26 - Left Behind
Sunny and Star Crew: @ashintheairlikesnow@whumpinggrounds@whumptakesthecake@justplainwhump@whumpfessional@winedark-whump@painful-pooch - let me know if you want to be added/removed!
CW: pet whump, BBU, derogatory language, threat of noncon, sad Star hours
***
“Get in there,” Mr. Bianchi growls, pushing Star into the small closet.
She turns around before she makes it in, growling at him. “No. I don’t want to.”
“Get the fuck in the closet, puppy.”
Star looks out across the hotel room, at Comet and Sunny, who are standing behind Mr. Bianchi. “I thought I was supposed to come with you, Sir,” she whispers, trying to make her voice as sweet as possible, trying to appease him. Anything so she won’t be left alone in the closet.
