How To Cope If Abused By My Brother?

"Look at the target, Gabe," Derek hissed, his voice a low vibration that settled in my bones. "Imagine it's my heart. Imagine you are finally putting me out of my misery." I was trapped between the cold metal of a gun and the burning heat of his body. My finger trembled on the trigger, but I couldn't pull it. My name is Gabriel. To the world I am the nerdy quiet university student. To Derek Miller, I am his toy. He found my secret sketchbook, page after page of his naked body drawn with obsessive detail. Now, he uses those sketches to keep me on a leash blackmailing me whenever he wants a taste of my dignity. But the nightmare was only beginning. When my religious mother announced she was marrying Derek’s billionaire father my world shattered. My bully wasn't just a ghost from campus anymore, he was my stepbrother. We share a room. We share a bathroom and now my body. He is everywhere I breathe. He claims me. He insults me. He treats me like trash. And the sickest part? I have realized I loved it rough. Our obsessive love is impossible. My mother would disown me, the Miller name would be tarnished, and Derek’s tough love is starting to leave scars I can't hide. Just as I am about to break, a new guy enters the picture someone who promises to love me softly. Someone who doesn't smell like gin and danger. But in the dark world of the Millers, safety is a lie. Now I have to choose: Do I run toward a peaceful future, or do I stay with the devil I already know?

I thought about him again today. God, I'm so fucked up. I want my brother to ruin me. I want his hands on my body, his mouth on my skin, his name the only word I can remember when he's done with me. I want him to push me against a wall and take everything I've been begging him for in the dark. The worst part? He's not even really my brother. I found out the night I came home, hospital mix-up, swapped at birth, the daughter they raised isn't the daughter they made. Which means Damien Nightbane, the man who's haunted my dirtiest fantasies since I was eighteen, the man whose touch makes me wet and desperate and insane... he's not off-limits anymore. Except he is. Because he raised me. Protected me. Watched me grow up. And I spent two years running from the way his eyes follow me, from the tension that crackles between us, from desires so shameful I can only confess them to a stranger online. A stranger who knows exactly what I want. A stranger who tells me my fantasies aren't wrong. A stranger who makes me feel seen in ways no one else ever has. I should have known better. Should have realized that the man who whispers dark promises through a screen and the man who grips my shoulders too tight in hallways might be the same person. But by the time I figured it out, his hands were already on me. And Damien Nightbane doesn't let go of what's his. Warning: This is a dark, explicit romance featuring a possessive, obsessive billionaire and the woman he's been waiting years to claim. Contains mature themes, explicit content, and a "brother" who's definitely NOT playing nice.

The first thing my brother did after returning from his studies in Europe was drag me before the family council. I ran the rundown bar our Capo father left me, stocking shelves at dawn and scrubbing counters past midnight. I even took on debt from loan sharks to keep him afloat. "Just one last time," he always promised over the phone. "I'll pay you back once I marry rich." But today, a summons from the family arrived at his request. It demanded I be stripped of my birthright and forced to hand over the bar and our territory. My phone pinged. A photo flashed on the screen: my brother in a silk shirt, sitting close to a woman, her hand digging into his thigh. The message followed: Meet my fiancée, the daughter of the Valenti family boss and their Chief Legal Counsel. She says you don't stand a chance. I stared at that hand for a long, long time. Then I crouched down and pried open the hidden compartment beneath the bar.

Angelina begged and screamed in pain infront of four assaulters to let her go, but they could not comprehend a girl's "NO." They sexually assaulted her and killed her soul.The broken fragment of her soul continued even through tears. Infront of her eyes, those assaulters also killed her first mate. However, she won't spare anyone and has returned to take her revenge. And the only punishment for them is death. But destiny played with her and her second mate is the assaulter brother. Will she forgave them? Or she will kill her second mate?

After days of torture at the hands of my family’s rival gang, they offered me one last phone call. I called my brother, Matteo. I just wanted to say goodbye—while I still had the chance. “What is it now?” he snapped. “Matteo, I—” He didn’t let me finish. “Fix your own mistakes. Until then, don’t call me again.” Death didn’t hurt as much as those words did. I felt my heart slow to a stop as my brother’s words echoed in my ears. I guess you’re finally at peace now, Matteo. I won’t bother you again. And you’ll never have to see me again.

After my younger brother, Thomas Werther, is born, my family puts a reward and disciplinary system in place. As the older brother, I receive double the punishment whenever Thomas makes a mistake. But whenever he accomplishes something, I am rewarded too. At first, I teach Thomas how to eat and use the toilet. My dad, Ronald Werther, praises me for doing such a great job and buys me stylish new clothes and all the toys I want. But one day, Thomas accidentally breaks a vase. After watching me take the punishment for it, he claps happily, as though he has just discovered something incredible. From that moment on, my life becomes a living nightmare. Thomas starts wreaking havoc around the house without restraint. He deliberately does the opposite of whatever I tell him. Dad's punishments grow harsher and harsher. At first, he only strikes my palms. Then he makes me stand for hours, forbids me from eating, and whips me with a cane. Every time I scream in pain, Thomas bursts into delighted laughter and claps his hands. I try to expose what Thomas is doing, but Dad only looks at me with disgust. "Thomas is just a kid! What could he possibly know? You don't teach him properly, and now you're trying to shirk responsibility? How did I end up raising a son like you?" And just like that, I endure Thomas' schemes until his third birthday. This time, giggling with delight, he smashes the only keepsake Granddad left behind.