Damaged Goods Ao3 Novels & Stories

Especially when she felt that the young man had pulled his finger out of her womanhood so there was an opportunity for his own tongue to claim his jewel alone. It was as if lightning had struck Ara, closing her eyes to what her boyfriend had done. She didn’t know where she was going to cling because she felt like she was drowning in ecstasy. But despite that, she still tried to find something to hold on to. And it was Daniel's hair is that she found. She clung to it as if it would give her strength even though she also loves the reason why she is feeling so weak now.

Asher muttered from where he stood, watching as Kaidën fought with the demons of his past. “We are both damaged, Asher Fishman. Why else would we fit so perfectly?” Kaidën shot back, shaking his head, fingers clawing at the mirrors.

I was tortured daily as well, sometimes I'd be flogged with a whip soaked in wolfsbane, burnt, lacerated with knives, tortured by having my nails removed, beaten mercilessly till I passed out, had my limbs sprained or broken multiple times, choked and nearly even drowned. Tanika went further into sadism, she pierced my cock and nipples and she began to engage in cock and ball torture, she even went as far as burning my balls and that's why I assumed that if for some reason, I got to feel the warmth of a woman again, I would never be able to have kids. While the flashbacks of my terrible experiences kept playing in my mind, the dungeon door rattled open and a chill ran down my spine. With wha

(ongoing) Dissonance and Harmony: The story of a high school girl who has to face her rapist at his sentencing hearing and deal with her PTSD from that night. Graphic violence and rape scenes. (completed) b. i Story: Heartless Angels: Werewolf story about Oakley, a descendant of the Moon Goddess, who was rejected and abused by her original mate, her family, and her pack and her journey to find out who and what she really is. Graphic violence and, you guessed it, smut. (ongoing)

Damian's POV The nursery smelled of fresh linens and the faint, metallic tang of blood—mine, mostly, seeping through the hasty bandages Jax had slapped on during the retreat. Ava's eyes searched my face, wide with a mix of relief and horror as she took in the gashes, the silver burns mottling my skin like acid scars. Alexander—our little warrior—unlatched from her breast with a contented sigh, his tiny lips pursing as if sensing the shift in the air. He was perfect, unmarred by the night's horrors, his skin soft as velvet under my calloused fingers. I traced his cheek gently, marveling at how something so fragile could ignite such ferocity in me. "He's got your eyes," Ava whispered, her voic

**SUBJECT V-09 | GESTATION: 34 WEEKS | TERMINATION REASON: "CARDIAC DEVIATION" His leather gloves creak around the fire axe. The first pod shatters with a sound like a dying scream, formaldehyde and fetal tissue sloshing across the tile floor. “Sixteen years.” Sixteen years of swallowing Arthur's lies about "medical research". The axe finds another pod. And another. Until…… A glint of steel behind the wreckage. The safe's biometric scanner still glows faintly green. Damien presses his thumb to the reader. Access granted. The files smell of mildew and betrayal.

Her eyeliner had smudged into two messy black rings around her eyes. “Don’t touch her with your filthy hands.” Hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the door. Damien stood at the entrance, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes swept over the shattered debris covering the floor, past the crumpled dolls lying everywhere, and finally landed on me. I was lying on the sofa, covered by Howard’s jacket. My face was swollen, the blood at the corner of my mouth had dried, and my fingertips were covered in dark red scabs.

My fingers flew across the keys, the cursor dancing as I began a new chapter. Damian’s touch wasn't gentle tonight, I wrote, my breath hitching. He didn't look at me with that usual gentle smile. Instead, he pinned me against the wall, his eyes dark with a hunger that felt like a haunting memory. He told me I was his. Then he consumed me… I paused, my heart hammering. I was writing Damian, but the image and face in my mind was all wrong. What the hell was I doing? Imagining Aaron while wrote? Since when did that annoying prick become my direct muse?!

Food, clothes, sometimes even things that should've raised eyebrows. But one thing that remained completely off limits, were girls. Ironically, it wasn't because of some sacred bro-code or glaring red label. We simply had violently different tastes. Damian was wild. So he liked girls that fit that narrative. Dangerous curves, lustful eyes, and bodies built for sin. I, on the other hand, craved the innocent ones… or those that pretended to be either way. Because I knew what simmered underneath their fake stoicism and cracking restraint… was the same thing that hid beneath mine:

“Breed me! Fill me until I can’t hold any more!” The men were insatiable. They came in my pussy, ass, mouth, on my tits, on my face, and all over my body. I lost count after eighty loads. My skin was glistening. My holes were ruined and overflowing. I was a trembling, drooling, cum-drenched mess by the time the sun began to set. Damien finally pulled me into his arms on the beach blanket as the bonfire was lit. “You were absolute perfection today,” he whispered, kissing me deeply while pushing his cock back into my destroyed pussy. “I’ve never seen anyone take this much and still beg for more. You’re my greatest treasure.”