cw: noncon, referenced abuse, violence, aftermath of whump, death mention, nudity, emeto mention
previous // Doom AU Masterlist
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Stepping out of the pod felt eerily familiar. He had no real memory of leaving the vat that created him, only of waking up on the floor, but Kiv imagined it had been something like this. He felt new again. The pod had closed all his cuts, mended his bones, pulsed blood through his bruises until they faded. It felt like for the first time, he could move around without any pain.
And wasn't it? Sir had hit him only seconds after he'd first opened his eyes.
Kiv hated him. He thought he'd hated him before, when he pinned him down with ease and called him pathetic. He thought he'd hated the bounty hunter, when he ran Kiv down and tried to tear him apart. But no, this burned in a different way.
Sir thought he was worthless. Sir would rather blow off steam beating Kiv to death than accept his value, accept that Kiv had done the impossible and should be rewarded.
Sir was a petty, jealous bitch.
His legs felt rubbery as he stepped onto the floor, a shiver running through him as the cool air of the room hit his bare skin. Some parts of him still ached, just a little. The ribs, the repaired knee, his nose. Ached enough to occupy a part of his mind, but the feeling was a relief compared to the pain he'd gone under with.
Kiv held onto the side of the pod, trying to blink his eyes into adjusting faster. The room before him was bright and blurry, shapes slowly coming into focus. There were a few other pods around him, and a few metal boxes with small doors attached (cabinets?), and in the far corner, leaning against a control pad…
“Survived again, hm?”
Kiv's knees turned into water. His free hand flew up to grip the side of the pod and keep him upright, body going rigid even though all he wanted to do was crawl back inside and go back to the peaceful nothing sleep.
No. Weak.
Sir was right. He had survived. He was better than just a decoy, and people more powerful than Sir knew it. But even as he told himself that, Kiv couldn't bring himself to meet Sir’s eyes, couldn't fight the icy, shameful feeling that gripped his heart and made him want to run and hide.
Fuck you, he thought.
“Bax was gracious enough to give you a room here,” Sir said. “Let's see if you can stop cowering long enough to make it there.”
Kiv gritted his teeth together, feeling his face heat up. Fuck you. He was the coward, sending a decoy to do his dirty work instead of facing the bounty hunter himself. He was the weak one. But Kiv couldn't make himself let go, couldn't make himself take a step forward.
It was too similar to the vats. Him naked and shaky and dazed and Sir demanding things of him.
He'll hit me again.
So what? So fucking what? He was stronger than a few punches, he was supposed to be, anyway. He'd killed the bounty hunter, and he could kill Sir.
He couldn't even look at Sir.
“Get a move on. Or would you rather I drag you there?”
Fuck you.
Kiv let go with one hand, locking out his knees and stiffening his spine. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't supposed to be afraid. If he was afraid, he was wrong, a copy of Sir but not good enough, a sad excuse for an imitation. He wouldn't be afraid. He took one step forward, another, and then his legs gave out, sending him to his knees.
“Fucking pathetic.”
“Fuck you,” Kiv spat out, then immediately cringed away from the words, hands coming up to shield his face as if Sir wasn't standing clear on the other side of the room.
Weak.
“Getting bold now, are we?” Sir was getting closer, circling in slow and even, like a predator. Kiv forced his hands to come down, clenched them into tight fists at his sides.
“I-I’m not pathetic.” But fuck, he sounded like it. Heat was rising in his head as ice spread through his chest. He felt like he might start crying, and he couldn't. He grabbed the edge of the pod again, pulling himself to his feet, every muscle in his legs and core flexing to keep him there. Sir was looking at him. Bored. Unimpressed. Kiv looked right back, jaw and fists clenching as he fought the urge to turn away.
“You made me to die and I didn't. I killed, I survived, and I found my way back.”
“I'm sure you're very pleased with yourself.”
“And I'm sure you're embarrassed,” Kiv spit back, his next words dying in his throat at the look Sir gave him. He was closer now, almost close enough to grab him, but Kiv forced himself to stay in place, to hold his stare.
“Your boss—” What was his name? “Bax— Bax knows I belong here. Even if you don't.”
Sir stopped a few feet away. “Bax thought you'd make a good whore.”
The word wasn't immediately familiar, but it buried in Kiv's guts in a bad way, churning his stomach. He forced the feeling away. “No.”
“No?” Sir echoed. “You think you're better than that, I imagine.”
“Better than you,” Kiv retorted. “Or I will be.”
Sir lunged. Kiv managed to duck under the first blow, fists up to launch one of his own, but Sir was too quick for him. A hand locked around his wrist, wrenching his arm until his shoulder felt like it might tear away.
“Hh—!” Kiv fell to his knees, pinned down by his own traitor arm. “No—”
“Shut up.” Sir kneed him in the back, and Kiv fell forward, his free arm darting out to keep his teeth from breaking on the tile floor.
A thick, angry heat threatened to close his throat, bundling in his chest until he wanted to scream. Not in pain, not this time. He wanted to wrap his hands around Sir's throat, he wanted to punch him until his nose was spurting blood, but he couldn't, he couldn't fucking move, and now it was going to happen again. Sir was going to hurt him again, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.
Pleas were already pulling at his tongue, but Kiv swallowed them. No, no, there was nothing he could do, no way to stop this, but he wouldn't do that, he wouldn't sink that low.
Sir folded Kiv's arm against his back, elbow and shoulder straining as he tried to brace himself for the first hit, the first kick, the hands that would choke the life out of him. None came. Sir’s weight settled onto Kiv instead, pinning his hips, his free hand fiddling with something until there was a metallic click and a swish. At last, the grip on his wrist loosened, and Kiv pulled his arm in, tucking it under himself and trying frantically to buck Sir off. He was answered with a strike that hit him in the ear, made him yelp even as he resolved not to make any noise.
His belt, Kiv realized as he craned his neck around, ear throbbing. Sir had removed his belt. That knowledge brought on a sickening kind of fear, and he couldn't say why. Because Sir was going to hit him with the metal end of the belt? Because that would hurt worse than his fists? But if that was the case, why couldn't he move? His hands were free. He should be fighting back, he should be proving himself for a second time, but his body stayed stiff. Even his breathing felt stiff. Shallow, like the air didn't reach all of him. Almost numb.
He couldn't look back again. He could hear rustling fabric, could feel a rigid heat on his back, but he couldn't look and he couldn't move and he couldn't understand why.
Sir wasn't hitting him, so why was this fear worse than when he thought he was going to die? Why? Sir shifted. Calloused hands squeezed Kiv's ass and something wet was smeared on his hole and suddenly he wanted to throw up.
“No— no—” Kiv choked out without meaning to. He didn't know what he was saying no to. This didn't hurt, wasn't a beating, so why?
Something hot and hard pressed against his hole.
“Keep begging,” Sir growled. “See where it gets you.”
The thing pushed in, and Kiv suddenly broke free of his trance, bucking against the intrusion. It burned, pressure where pressure shouldn't be. Sir struck him across the shoulders with the belt, but Kiv didn't stop moving. He had to get away, had to—
The belt looped around his neck and cinched tight, closing his throat around the scream that built as the thing pushed in further, pressure overwhelming the ring of muscle there, maybe breaking it, maybe tearing him open, Kiv didn't know.
He clawed at the belt, mouth open in a helpless cry that had no air behind it as he was torn apart from behind.
Stop, stop, please…
Sir's hands locked around his hips, forcing his head back as the belt moved to a steeper angle. Kiv's heart was racing, panic flooding his body, but he had nowhere to go. The thing was still digging deeper into him, hurting in places he didn't know could be hurt, stretching that part of him to the brink, dizzying him from the pain and lack of air.
The belt suddenly loosened, and Kiv sagged forward, choking down air. Miraculously, the thing inside him was retreating too, leaving behind an aching relief of muscles pushed too far. It felt like his shoulder felt, but worse, deeper.
Was it over? Was this just some kind of torture Sir was using to subdue him? If that was the case, it worked, for now. Kiv never wanted to feel like that agai—
The thing suddenly slammed into him. Kiv screamed, back arching with the explosion of pain in his guts. No, no—
It did it again, a split second of almost-relief followed by sudden, stabbing pain. In and out, faster and faster as Kiv clawed at the ground and screamed and screamed. The belt closed around his throat again, but the lack of air did little to distract him from the brutal… fucking. That's what this… fucking. He was being fucked. Just that simple realization was enough to make his eyes burn, the sound that came out of him when the belt next loosened a hoarse sob.
He wasn't even fully sure what it meant, being fucked. It was bad, he could tell it was bad from how much it hurt, but it wasn't bad in the way the beatings had been. It wormed into him, burning parts of him he didn't even know existed, causing pain, but also more than pain, in a way he couldn't name.
Kiv could only lay there and cry as Sir’s violent thrusts finally came to a standstill, not even bothering to try and choke the sounds down. Sir drew out of him for the final time, leaving something warm and viscous in his wake.
He huffed far above Kiv, giving him a light kick in the side. “Get up.” He pulled the belt free, and the metal clicked back into place. “You can find your room on your own, big shot.”
Kiv didn't get up. Even when Sir’s footsteps had long since faded, he couldn't make himself move. His guts felt raw, like he'd been skinned from the inside out, but that wasn't the weight that held him down.
He was still trying to wrap his head around the why.
And—and he couldn't just go looking for his room like this. He was naked, and anyone who saw him would be able to tell what happened, wouldn't they? It was like he'd been branded with something invisible, something that would broadcast his weakness, that would change the way eyes fell on him forever.
But he couldn't stay in here either, could he? Sir or someone would find him eventually, and then what? Would it happen again?
It would. He was sure of it. If this was the worst thing, this raw, stupid, naked feeling, then Sir would do it again.
Kiv managed to roll onto his side, whimpering as the motion rippled a new pain through the depths of him. He pulled his knees into his chest, hugging them with one arm and covering his face with the other as if that could hide him from anyone who passed by.
He was the prey again. After that, after everything, maybe that was what he'd always be.
whumper who forces whumpee to thank them every time they're sexually assaulted. who clicks their tongue and says no, no, i didn't believe you. try harder. i need to hear your gratitude. again.
whumpee got assaulted by someone and had to give them a blowjob, they finished inside them. And then whumper gets back and instead of any sympathy, they are pissed. They force whumpee to throw up and then they rape them to remind whumpee who owns them.
Grabbing the back of their head so they can't lean back to breathe. Choking them with their thrusts as they finish, never enough time to catch a drop of oxygen.
Reflexively swallowing to clear the airway
Or swallowing because whumper would beat them for spitting it out
Collapsing against the wall to gasp for breath afterward
"You think you deserved that? Huh? You're not worthy of it. Spit it out. Now!"
"No, fuck You, I can't! You forced me to---you forced me to swallow, you---you---"
Whumper punching them in the stomach till they hurl
Or forcing dirty fingers into whumpee's mouth over the toilet to gag them
"Stop---stop it, stop it! I'll gag myself. I'll puke. Just get your damn fingers out of my---" cut off with a slap
