Archive of Our Own ^beta

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HEY HI HELLO, LETS GET SOME THINGS OUT OF THE WAY BEFORE WE RECK JULIANS SHIT THAT I COULDNT FIT INTO THE SUMMARY !!!

Just some fair warnings: I DO NOT SUPPORT WHAT THE CHARACTERS ARE DOING IN THIS, THEIR ACTIONS ARE BIG IRL NO NO'S. RAPE FICS ARE JUST ROLEPLAY, THIS IS NO WAY TO BE ENCOURAGING THIS SHIT-

It's been awhile since I've played through Acrana so I'm kinda dusty, so if any things wrong with the lore or story of the characters , do tell and I'll fix it! I'm also neuro divergent so I'm kinda dumb as hell and not good at spelling so I appreciate all the help I can get. As of February 20th 2021 I do not have Internet and working on an 8 year old iPad with 3G, so everything is so slow and very shit, so if you would like to do beta for me we'll have to figure something out. This is also my first FIC so go easy on me.

What this FIC is:

It's an impulsive jump to fill the gap of Julian torture porn. Everything will pretty much be written on the spot with no planning, so I might read back, hate something, and then rewrite and add more to it. The fic is also following Julian, flipping in between the captors pov and julians. The FIC is set in kinda modern times but not really? I just grabbed bits and pieces of whatever looked right. There is cannibalism in the FIC but I'm not really sure if it is technically? Like I said in the summary the FIC will be switching from absolutely horrible to fluff because we gotta give Julian something to live for-

About the tags: THE TAGS FOR EACH CHAPTER WILL BE SPECIFIED LIKE THIS - "tags for chapter (# goes here) above-" this means that all the tags before the marker are for specified chapters.

It's not exactly straight forward and probably will change (even if it's for an old chapter or a new one), the tags SHOULD NOT be taken lightly. Like at all. I'm willing to take asks for certain kinks. Rape isn't in the first chapter but I do have an idea for it to be it might be in the second chapter probably?

About asks:

The weirder the better. The more fucked up the better. It might take awhile to get to depending on if I know what the fuck you're talking about or if I'm even interested, BUT I would like to destroy Julian (in a good way) so I'll take whatever means I can with that. I might fulfill ether ask in this FIC or make a one shot or series with it (really depends on if I like it or not), I'll make sure to mention your tag in it and stuff!

OK NOW THAT IM DONE WITH THE BORING SHIT HERES THE SUMMARY FOR THE FIC!!!
*^*}/+*+*

"Listen, Listen! We don't have to brawl it out like barbarians! It's 20xx lets handle this like true good samaritians!" The large man infront of Julian really didn't seem to give a shit about his half hearted speech, choosing to take a few steps towards the paler man, inspecting. For some reason. He truly didn't understand what he did so wrong, all Julian did was compliment the dudes snazzy hair do! Well... More of mans lack of hair-

In Julians defense, he did technically compliment the guy! It was his typical compliment formula! Half lidded eyes, charming smile, a posture that just OOZED confidence, and a sly adjustment of his collar. Popular to contrary belief of the towns folk, this was one of his few days where he wasn't looking to get every last one of his teeth violently ripped from his gums by a B-list criminal. Specifically ones that were chiseled like demigods. Julian was finally in a place were being gay was tolerable and he would like to enjoy it, thank you very much. All he was out here for was fresh bread and a cup of coffee... And possibly a man friend to take home, but clearly that venture has not taken a good turn. Maybe Julian shouldn't have stared at the guys shaven scalp like a slightly racist child in a Japanese candy shop. In all honesty it was much less staring and more of 'loudly announcing that the mans head looked like a teenaged boy's freshly shaven ballsack' with a hastily added 'in a good way' that he instantly wanted to take back at soon as it came out.

Julian probably took the biggest step back of his life when the probably-6'4-guy-that-is-also-probably-a-body-builder suddenly started an even, yet EXTREMELY intimidating stride towards him. Yep Julian was fucked. Fucked from the moon and back. Maybe even to Pluto and back. His worst nightmare was confirmed when those hefty, probably extremely veiny arms, cut his brain off like an old vintage tv. With the weird static click and everything! Every dial in his unconscious brain was turned up to "we are literally being bent over and fucked by life, please help us."

If only Julian Devorak could learn how to shut the fuck up and think, maybe he wouldn't have woken up in very-much-so-not-a -hospital-bed, chained up, with the worst headache he's ever fucking had in his life.

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Julian promised himself this new town would be a fresh new start. He promised to stay out of trouble, but alas, he already got his lights knocked the fuck out and his spirit crushed by some guy wearing cargo shorts. C A R G O S H O R T S. Julian swore to himself this wouldn't happen. Swore that his old lifestyle wouldn't creep up on him. Of course Julian thought he was free from it all, after all, he was away from his previous prevalent life of crime, free of disgustingly dirty looks from older men who heavily disappoved of his queer coded stylistic choices, and far, far, away from all of his childhood trauma that included a healthy dose of general homophobia, paired with a gluttonous dallope of self hate. In his mind, the move was perfect! This place still felt homey without actually being his home. Well, his childhood home. Julian could still sniff out some parallels that bothered him way more than it should, but honestly, it could be worse. He still, very occasionally, gets weird looks because of his eyepatch. Sometimes little kids, sometimes even grown adults, would ask him if he was cosplaying as some very obscure marvel super villain or even a pornstar. Julian has come to deal with these situation either by flirting with them or begrudgingly saying yes or asking them why they know the names of pornstars when they're clearly a half step away from being back in the womb. Honestly, he didn't really give a shit what they thought or said about the fabric he adorns each day. Unless they ripped off his eyepatch.

He has and will continue to panic about his eyepatch.

The piece of worn, and honestly kinda disgusting fabric, has become a comfort item of his. He'd fiddle with the straps, trace the shape of it, and pet it like a damn dog, which is obviously very normal behavior for a 39 year old man. Extremely average and not at all anxiety ridden, or fuled by the need to hide behind a persona to keep his feelings detached from whatever shitty situation he got himself in now.

Julian always tried to ignore it. That his entire personality rested on a fucking eyepatch.

Despite Julian being a flamboyant asshat, he would never get a new eyepatch. Ever. He's had it since his twenties and worn it ever since his eye turned into a replica of an inflamed hemmeriod, and he'll be dammed if he has to walk out of the comfort of his sophisticated, yet disorganized, home without it. Ever fucking loving dammed. Hence why he's currently having a panic attack on what seems to be a cellar floor because one half of his vision isn't shrouded by darkness. Which again is something completely normal for a 39 year old man. He tries to ignore the shame of being on the brink of tears solely because of the lack of a 20+ year old rag and attempts to pin it on the fact he's been kidnapped, but, with no surprise, it wasn't working.

Why exactly would it work in the first place?

Julian has always been privy to fiction except when it came to himself. And life for that matter. His parents always tried to shelter him from the evil in the world, all the evil that Julian jumped head first into with no hesitation. Maybe that's why he's chained up in a sex (torture...?) dungeon, naked from what he can see, and more worried about an article of clothing. Julian has also always been privy to dramatics, which is why the giant, weird, witchy cat statue didn't bother him as much as it should've, he kinda felt like he's seen it before. Where? Absolutely no clue. In Julian's mind, this place isn't too creepy.

Julian Devorak has been in worse places in his time, the most notible, a porta potty toilet on the 4th of July. Specifically inside of the toilet. Naked. That experience has been number one on his list of "Absolutely foul places that I have begrudgingly explored" right next to what he dubbed, litter box hell and taco bell back room. He's experienced literal hell fire, and carbon copies of the very cellar he currently chained up in. Just the hell fire was a lot more hot with more tortured souls (literally) and every other cellar had less dildos with spikes that clearly were extremely sharp and more dust and meth addicted murders. Unlike now, ATLEAST back then he could taunt the meth headed killers. Use them as a sounding board for his 10 year old dad jokes (Also literal) and sexy one liners. Julian couldn't help but to feel that he shouldn't be this unnerved by not-bloody-floors.

But he was. He was absolutely starting to panic. Less about the eyepatch and more about the upcoming bdsm non-con.

the fact that all of the toys that he could see were very clearly brand new was honestly getting to him. Julian has never been in a crime den that didn't have, at the very least, one rusty torture device. Or even a couple of hand guns. Hell, from what he could see, he was just in a replica of a sex club private room. Just a brand new sex club. In a rich neighborhood. With speakers in the corners of the room?

The more Julian thought the sharper the blade of "holy fuck I'm doomed" got.

One edge the lack of eyepatch and the other the horse dildo that stood firm in the far left corner of the room. It felt like someone was waiting for him. Eagerly as well. He desperately wanted the scarred up killers at the thought, since being isolated for long periods of time is NOT his jam.

Julian always got up to no good when he's alone. At least that's what his mother said.

It always gave him a sick sense of pride. Even to this day.

Ignoring the existential dread creeping up in the corners of his eyes and the looming fear of being trapped here forever, Julian could appreciate the attention to detail in his new (hopefully) temporary home. The room was neat, despite the burning chill of the chains, the space was heated to perfection, the carpets clean, and the dark wooden floor sweeped, mopped, and waxed with obvious effort. The air smelled fresh and clean, with a tiny hint of lavender that reminded him of his sister, Portia. Everything had its respective cherry on top, so to speak.

Even the paddles that rested on golden hooks across from him looked polished to perfection.

Julian had to admit that his kidnapper was quite presentation oriented. He appreciated it.

But Julian also had to admit that his captor is fucking stupid for the following reasons:

-You kidnapped Julian Devork

-u kid napped Julian Devorak

-Julian Devorak, yuO kid napped.

Then you left Julian Devorak alone. With nothing bolted down.

Despite the horrible pounding in his skull, Julian thought, just for a second, that maybe he should explore.

He wiggled around a bit, stretching his legs out the the best of his ability. He'd prefer to do actual stretches, that actually stretched him, but the iron chains kept his range of movement strangled down to one akin of an potato. Whatever that means. The lack of movement promptly says to him "stay the fuck down you dirty rat", which simply reminds him that escape should be more important than he has placed it in his mind.

Then Julian tilts his head slightly and see's the lock bolted to the fucking wall. Across the room. Maybe they weren't too dumb.

With his legs, pretty much by proxy, glued down and the splitting fucking headache, he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

Julian nuzzles into the conveniently person size square beneath him, enjoying the smooth and fluffy texture of the blood red carpet, trying his best to forget that he was being held captive. The warmth providing more comfort than Julian cared to admit. He was always fond of this deep, sultry red. It reminded him of perfectly ripened strawberries his parents used to grow and the handful of rubies he stole from a street merchant years ago.

Julian swears he'll never feel guilt about that, chanting like a prayer "You can't just have a bucket of genuine rubies strapped to your chest like a newborn baby, with a sheet of loose leaf paper on it that nobody can even read and not expect someone to steal some!" As expected, nobody gave a shit about his explanation and simply let him go with a slap wrist after many many hours of sweet talking, and told him to return the goods. Which he didn't. Like at all. Not even one ruby went back into that old hags hands, rather his bucket, but whatever. Instead he used some of the crystals to make intricate designs to add some gay flare to his beloved trench coat he has promptly named "Rosetta".

The name was quite fitting considering the handmade ruby roses tacked on the sleeves.

Julian could really use Rosetta right now. The thick wooly layers dyed a hearty red, with the thick lingering smell of last nights wine would be an acceptable replacement comfort for his eyepatch, since he can't see the fucking thing anywhere, in fact, he can't see any of his belongings in the room. Not even a stray strand of string from the tassels of his gold trimmed gloves. If Julian's thinking was correct about this sex dungeon is simply a cellar, his cothing would be upstairs somewhere, which probably shouldn't be the first thing to be worrying about with a multitude of torture devices to his left, which are just as shiny and new as the rest. At least he now knows he won't be sharing fluids with another tortured soul.

He hoped.

Julian recognized some of the devices from extremely obscure places on his list of "Absolutely foul places I've begrudgingly explored" most notably a gynecologist chair that looked ungodly comfortable for some reason. The new shiny leather, the matching red of the carpet, the fluffy golden blanket folded up on the center... It looked like it was modified to appear more inviting anyways, which was acceptable in his opinion.

As long as it actually was inviting he didn't give a shit.

All Julian wanted was to curl up in the chair and go back to sleep. Maybe sleep the headache off which he's been ignoring for the last few minutes in favor of reminiscing about his list and searching his surroundings.

Fuck it.

Using whatever's left of his slowly draining will to live, Julian dragged his upper half up, noting that his captor has the decency to let him keep his socks but also make the neck chains 20 times longer than the ones that encapsulated his lower legs. Its pretty pathetic that comfortable sleeping is what's driving his escape from his bonds, but hey, motivation is motivation and Julian is a simple man with expensive taste.

"How absolutely divine! You're awake!"

That definitely was not the guy that dropped him like a toddler. Far from it, it seemed.

The voice was soft and gentle, lingering in the air just like the lavender scent that Julian still doesn't know the location of. It was smooth like freshly made butter, but deep and rich like homemade pumpkin pie. It calmed him down a lot more than it should.

It felt like a heavy blanket, in all sense if the word.

Also familiar. Very familiar.

Julian turned towards the voice slowly.

What. The. Fuck?

There's no one there. No one. He is just as alone as a moment beforehand. Just as alone when he woke up. Even though Julian was privy to dramatics, he was not privy to mind games.

Not at all. Ever.

"Oh honey, you look very confused..." Julian wasn't honestly. Maybe he was, but it didn't matter. All Julian wants to know is where the fuck his clothes are, where he was, and why he was wearing only socks.

And who this voice was.

""How about I send in someone to assist you? Hmm?"

Julian thinks about answering for a second, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to fuel the man speaking to him. Despite the voice being as comforting as warm milk and honey, it has a condescending edge. One that bothers him. One that would bother anyone in fact. Not a single soul could enjoy this.

Well...

Julian let out a tiny choked out 'please'. His captor knew what he was doing with Julian and makes that very clear with the way he speaks to him.

It made him wanna cry and scream but also beg for forgiveness.

He fucking hates this.

Julian's captor seems pleased with the display of submission with a small prideful chuckle.

"Who would you like Julian? What would you like?" The voice just got softer and sweeter with each word, maybe it was more like a heating blanket? "I can get you anything you want, all you have to do is ask..."

"My legs hurt." They really did. The chains are tight, and restrictive. It felt like Julian's blood vessels were being crushed. Well, technically they were. He can feel the bruises forming now.

"All right darling, how about we get you out of them?"

Julian let out a tiny hum, earning him a chuckle.

Maybe this won't be so bad?

Chapter Text

After a few minutes a man walked into the room, lo and behold... It was cargo shorts dude. 

"O-oh hi! I'm so, so sorry about our mishap in the markets! Excuse my nude-ness..." Julian pulls his knees towards his chest to hide his exposed cock. Well he tries. A lithe gentleman like him shouldn't be too ashamed of his genitals. He hopes. A small tiny chuckle slid out of him.

this formula Julian shall dub "awkward self doubt". It was one of those rare moments where his sexy doctor persona was starting to slip, and rather obviously as well. 

"S-so. Uh. haha... You're here to unlock my viscous metal cocoon, yes?" Julian Devorak was rambling, and he was very well aware. Maybe too aware? Wayyyyyy to aware for his own good. "I mean... That is indeed what I requested- is-is that happening now?"

In a sick recreation of their first encounter, which was extremely unnecessary considering that he was already on the brink of shitting his pants, if he was wearing any of course. Despite the clear display of oh shit, Mr. Extremelytackyfasiontaste uses the same extremely unnerving stride towards him that triggered Julian's extremely fragile paranoia, paired with the singnature "shut the fuck up" look, before carefully crouching down and starting to removethe offending chains from his ankles. It's like a giant wilder beast trying to swoon a small pregnant kitten.

I mean, it was kinda doing it for Julian.

Julian is also diggin' the size difference.

Julian was a smaller man, but not in every sense of the word. Julian's frame was akin to a teenaged boy's. Quite lean, not much beef on the cake per say, but he did have quite wide shoulders, and dare he say... He was tall? Julian hopes that 6'4 is tall in the books, but then again he lived around the human equivalent of gaints for most of his life. He was defiantly taller than the man working the chains off of him above, but he has nothing on the pure girth of his biceps, or even his work ethic.

Mr. Jesuschristsqueezethesouloutofmenow looked quite diligent down there, yet still obviously distracted by the silky smooth, endless scape of hairless thighs that Julian took so much pride in. He's always shaved his legs, even as a small lad, skin he found the hair on his head and the hair that garnished his body were exactly the same. Thick, gnatty, and not very willing to cooperate. Like ever. they'd get stuck in the threading of every single pair of pants he owned, so he's gotten into the habit of simply taking a razor to it it.

Long story short, he was completely hairless.

Even his pubic hair was nicely trimmed, which seemed to be the larger mans current object of distraction.

Large, calloused hands gently glide across Julian's smooth, exposed thighs before cupping the next set of chains, fiddling with an small patch of skin on his inner thigh. He seems to be entertaining the idea of just grabbing Julian's dick.

Maybe Mr. Cargoshortsareperfectwintergear was more interested in Julian than he let on.

Intresting.

He actually kinda enjoyed the way the mans eyes burrowed into him, the way he inspected the soft planes of flesh. It was nearing on obsessive. Maybe even rapey? Which would make sense because of the surrounding sex toys. Even now, the look didn't bother him much. Julian was never a picky guy with his affections. Even if it was from a kidnapper that crushed his skull like an dried out beetle in the middle of the worlds hottest summer. But, I digress. Just like the "Absolutely foul places I have begrudgingly explored" list, he had one of sexual escapades. More like weird guys he's allowed into him, but hey, AT LEAST this guy isn't anywhere near the top 10.

Not yet. Julian shrugs a bit. He can handle some weird kidnapper sex. As long as it was Mr. Khakis.

He knew khaki dude more than the sweet talker in the speakers.

In otherwords, he is an attention whore. Still is, after all. Maybe even just an run-of-the-mill whore? But Julian preferred the romantic side of his adventures. After all, what's the point of putting your life in mortal danger if there isn't any theatrics? 

Julian Devorak lived for theatrics.

When he finally manages his escape he'll have an Intresting story for the next few weeks. Or months.