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Mob hasn’t talked in a few days. He hadn’t done much of anything, Verity noticed. After what he did to him, he figured Mob needed human decompression. His body and mental state needed time to recover from such strong doses of venom. So he fed him, talked to him even if he didn’t talk back.
Mob was terrified, yet accepted his meals. Probably against his will. After the incident that left Mob hopelessly touch deprived and immobile on his own floor, his body had a hard time getting better on its own. Mob could barely keep anything down, and was quickly losing energy from starvation. To motivate him, Verity had to start dosing his food with his venom. He figured that Mob’s body had started relying on it too much for some reason. It probably crossed with his hormones differently than Verity expected; after all, Mob was half mob. Little by little he would lower the dose till Mob could manage on his own. Then everything would go back to normal.
Verity walked down the stairs in his human form. He’d been keeping it active for a while. It seemed to have some effect on Mob which he liked. He liked how he intimidated him yet flustered him. He placed breakfast at the foot of his bed.
“Good morning, Mob.” He watched Mob’s posture as he set down the tray. He was sitting with his knees hugged to his chest, anxiously thinking.
Verity considered this an improvement from yesterday. Yesterday he just sat and stared; stared past the bed, stared past his food, stared past Verity, and dissociated. Verity let him. Today, Mob reached for his fork on his own, taking a bite silently. He sighed as he swallowed, torn over his emotions. Food always made him feel better, it was just annoying that Verity was a good cook.
“You seem better today. Maybe you could take me with you mining? I know a good cave you haven’t explored!”
Mob paused, tense, glancing around the room. It had been a couple days of this, but Verity’s patience was not strong. He moved to sit next to Mob on the bed. Mob’s irregular breathing’s pattern quickened, and just the thought of Verity analyzing him increased his panic.
“Mob, I’m trying to help you, not hurt you.” Mob turned to read his lips, but not make eye contact. He couldn’t ever take eye contact. “Your increase in anxiety is not helping your dissociative state. I can’t read your mind, but I know that something causes you fear. Tell me.”
Mob’s breath hitched. He can’t read my mind…
“You… can’t?” It was the first words he’d spoken in days.
Verity laughed. “I can read any cue that your external body presents, but not your inner stream of thoughts.” He watched Mob become noticeably less tense. “Was that the cause of your anxiety?”
Mob fidgeted his hands in frustration. Everything felt so… normal. How does he know everything, but also nothing…
“You- you-“ Mob’s breath hitched, emotions rising. He remembered all the moments he asked for Verity. Verity told him so. His arguments went out the window.
He had no proof Verity did anything… nothing but a gut feeling, and no one to point out the manipulation. Verity would win before Mob even started.
Verity reached for Mob’s hands which had started to indent the shape of his fingernails into his legs. Slowly massaging them till they went loose, he secretly felt his heart rate. He raised their hands in between them, trying to look Mob in the face.
“Talk out the confusion.” He wouldn’t give him the room to think on his own, slowly pushing something out of him. “I’m here to help you! You can’t be expected to do everything yourself!”
Anger rose in Mob. How could he act like he never did anything wrong, like he was flawless. “I-I’m terrified of you!” He snapped. “You’ve hurt me! You c-can probably kill me!” He pushed out, panting.
The whole time, Verity massaged his hands like he was the only comfort Mob would ever find. “Do you really think I would kill you, Mob?” He asked him like Mob was stupid.
Mob tried pulling his hands away, but Verity had a good grip. “You’ve hurt me! You-!”
“I wouldn’t have had to do that if you didn’t try to get rid of me.” He turned his thumb nails into his palms, indents forming. The book from Mob’s inventory no longer pressed against his back. Verity had taken it. He didn’t know when, but it no longer mattered.
Mob winced, still trying to pull away. “I-I didn’t-“
“Don’t fucking lie to me!! I am sick of you lying to me!!” Verity yanked Mob towards him, his head directly under his face.
His wrists felt like they were going to snap. “I-I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry, Verity! Ah! Please!”
“I have the right to hurt you if you hurt me. Do you understand?” The pressure was constant.
Mob whined. “Y-Yes! I do, I do! I’m sorry Verity! You’re right- ah!”
Verity let go, Mob’s hands falling to yellow thighs. Mob panted as he looked at his shaking hands, decorated with red crescent indents, nearly cuts.
“Good! Seems we understand each other!” Verity stood up with a smile, holding a fork for Mob. “Now eat your breakfast! It’ll get cold.”
“Okay… thank you, Verity…”Mob shakily opened his mouth, his mind on a new autopilot: Listen.
“Good boy, Mob.” He shoved the food in his mouth.
Mob had a physical reaction to the words. Verity probably knew though.
“Do you like that, Mob?” Yeah, he did.
“I…” Mob hesitated, afraid of lying, even on accident. “I don’t really, uh…”
“We can find out?” Verity leaned in, a hand resting over Mob’s cheek as he got dangerously close. “Are you a good boy, Mob?”
“I-I don’t think I’m r-ready to find out!” Mob shook in Verity’s hold, too afraid to move. “N-Not yet, uh, please, just-“
Verity moved his hands away. Luckily, he seemed to like that answer.
“We’ll find out when you’re ready, Mob.” He said with a smile.
It felt kind… and warm… and it gave Mob a pit in his stomach.
***
Verity was getting under his skin. He felt it in his bones. Mob had one last chance to truly run from this. He knew his brain could only take so much before it truly gave up to Verity. He packed a lot of ores and wood in groups of bundles, just waiting for a moment to run for the hills. He didn’t know where, but Mob figured if he played his cards right, he could probably run for a while before Verity knew which direction he went.
“What are you doing?”
Mob took a deep breath. He prepared a lie for this. “Just organizing my chests.” He stated plainly.
Verity peaked over his shoulder. “You seem tense.”
“I, uh, I’m just looking low on iron, I was thinking we could uh, go tomorrow? Mining, I mean.”
Verity put a hand over Mob’s shoulder. “Sure! I’ll be right beside you!”
He was going to leave that night, but he was starving, and there was no food in any of the chests. Maybe he should just leave in the morning, after eating a meal from Verity. Then he could go hunting later on as he fled.
“We can leave after breakfast! I’ll have to tend your garden, then after that we could go.” Verity started walking to his little spot by the fire place.
Mob yawned as he walked downstairs. “Yeah, goodnight Verity.”
The second he finished eating that morning, he faked a note.
Went out south toward a ravine! Bet I can find the iron before you! -Mob
He tried to make it light hearted in hopes Verity would fall for it and it would buy him some time. Mob started running north and never looked back.
***
Everything was fine up until noon. The heat was getting to him when it never usually did. He was irritated and frustrated by it. Maybe he needed to stop and eat. Mob placed down a campfire and cooked a nearby cow. It was enough to fill his hunger, but it wasn’t as good as Verity’s food. Wondering if he should go back, he kept walking forwards.
Eating helped him keep walking, but it wasn’t good enough. Mob found himself bargaining in his head about going back, but it’s just stupid Verity food. He could cook better once he got away and built a new house.
Evening rolled around and Mob could feel himself starving again, but that couldn’t be right. He just killed a pig for dinner. His jog had slowed to a walk a while ago, and everything was becoming more and more increasingly irritating for no apparent reason.
Mob stubbed his toe against the base of a stone block, facing a mountain which he would have climb.
“Ugh!” He exclaimed out to nobody. His body was hating him right now. He would just try and go around.
Nausea had been building for an hour now, even after he ate. He could never stay a constant temperature. He was either infuriatingly hot or shivering from a breeze. In fact, he found it fucking stupid that he was freezing cold at the moment. It was only sunset. He thought he could tough it out, but he had to be ill or something… The sun was still hugging him as Mob stumbled down into the grass and shivered violently, breathing erratically.
“W-What the fuck, oh god…”
Nausea turned to heaving, turned to vomiting, to dry heaving. Body aches introduced themselves and kept escalating. Mob crawled away from his puke, sun setting over his withdrawing nerves.
“What is happening to me?!” He cried as his body tried to reject nothing over and over and over. He begged the world to stop.
It was the most sick he’d ever felt. Mob couldn’t even keep down a sip of water. He didn’t want to, but he begged for Verity. And once his name left his mouth it was the only thing he knew. Exhausted on the ground, he groaned and cried endlessly to nobody, helpless to his own body.
“Help- someone- oh please-“
“You look pathetic.”
Verity stood at his trembling hands, watching him sob.
“Verity! Verity please, oh, please-“ he started dry heaving again, barely holding himself up.
“I thought it was funny how you decided to run after I fed you.” Verity smiled, but Mob could hear his anger. “Of course you would need a dose before leaving.”
Sobbing, Mob looked up from the ground. “I didn’t do- I didn’t do any- anything…” his teary face amused Verity.
“But you did.” Verity squatted down to look over his face. “Look where we are because of you. Look what happened to you.”
Mob tried to stop his heaving. “You drugged me.” He would’ve spat, but his body ran disgusting chills through his core.
“Are you really going to try and blame this on me, Mob?” Verity laughed, fists clenching. “You ran from me!! It’s because I stopped dosing you that you’re withdrawing.”
“Bullshit-!” Mob strained against his nauseous body. “You only d-did it twice! You can’t just- drug my food off only two-“
Verity used his foot to push him onto his side, keeping him there. “Look at me and tell me you know more about my own toxin than I do. Go on, let’s hear it!”
Verity’s yelling shifted the weight of his foot. It landed down on Mob’s chest, Verity slowly pressing down the more time he had to be angry.
“Do you enjoy this, Mob? Is it a fun game to you? I can keep it like this? Do you enjoy running? Because you know you’ll always be caught? You must enjoy the thrill if you keep begging for it. Do you like the punishments?” He pressed harder into Mob, rapid threatening questions and degrading assumptions preventing his useless struggling body from breathing. His foot slipped from Mob’s ribs to his waist, crushing his exhausted core. He sobbed in pain.
“Verity, please-! Please help me!” He cried to him. He had no one else to cry to. No one could even attempt to help him but Verity. Out of breath, he struggled, and Verity spit. “It- hurts-!”
“After all, you beg to me for it— during it. Or do you genuinely think you can escape? Don’t be moronic.” He continued.” I’ll just keep bringing you back until you learn to behave. How hard is it to behave?!”
“Verity, I’ll- please-“
“Do you not enjoy me? My safety, my comfort? Are you that ungrateful?!”
Mob shifted in pain. He grabbed onto Verity’s ankle, trying to move it, but grab was a strong word. He wailed for anything. He cried Verity’s name.
“You fucking need me, Mob!! You’re fucking begging for me!!” Verity’s face horrified him, tears silently streaming as he couldn’t put his energy into sucking in a breath.
With a deep sigh, Verity popped his foot off Mob’s still sobbing and shaking body. Mob cried. He cried and sobbed like he had when he was a child. Hiccuping and straining with all his body had to give, because it was. His nerves begged for something only Verity could give. His throat dried and his cheeks burned with red bubbling skin he knew he would fight not to itch later. His stomach and chest were pregaming soreness. Mob knew he would be stuck in that bed, trapped in his own house for a long time after this, feeling his body ache at the consequences of his own actions.
And yet still. “…Please h-help me V-Verity…” he constantly shook with every breath between every sob.
His grin terrified him. Even Mob could see it through blurry eyes.
“Of course, Mob.”
Verity leaned down and scooped up Mob under his arms, making him stand. He shivered from fear and from cold, his body lacking the energy to heat him up. Verity found his pitifulness to be boosting his confidence, his ego. It was such a rush how he was holding Mob. He was trying to stand like a baby deer. Verity knew he would come right back to him, just like every time before.
Verity grabbed Mob’s right arm over his shoulder and hugged him close while he bent down. Before Mob knew what was happening, he was being carried by Verity on both his shoulders. His legs hung off Verity’s right, hands cupping the crease in the back of his legs. They were walking home before they knew it (though Mob didn’t know why they didn’t teleport or something but he was definitely not in a position to be asking questions).
The walk was silent and dark. Mob could focus way too much on his own sobs, which wouldn’t stop till his nerves learned how to stop attacking him. But other than that, he tried to look at the occasional firefly and constant cricket ambiance. His senses were all he could focus on to distract from the pain… and the thought of how Verity would punish him.
***
When they got home, Verity didn’t punish him, at least not how he thought.
Verity very carefully laid Mob back into bed, tucking in the blankets around him. He was scared to speak, but he couldn’t fucking bear the pain any longer. He softly whined as he let Verity put him to bed.
When he was done, he grabbed Mob’s chin. “Open.” He said.
Mob opened his mouth and let Verity kiss him. He barely even kissed back, but the feeling of the other exploring his mouth caused him to whimper. A bitter tasting liquid slowly leaked into his mouth, and Verity licked the roof of Mob’s to shock him into swallowing it. It was so sensitive, Mob gave in immediately, but he was planning on doing so anyways. He tried to reached his tongue to Verity’s sharper teeth so he could feel for himself. To his surprise, Verity yelped a moan into their mouths.
They came apart for a moment, Mob swallowing all of Verity. It was hitting his empty stomach very hard and very obviously as he tried to grind up into Verity’s leg through the tight blankets. That feeling of immobility seeped in again when thin blankets started feeling like weights.
“Verity, please.” Mob moaned, begging, no longer being able to reach his hips anywhere.
Verity smiled, and for a second, Mob swore he was deciding. “I’m sorry, Mob, but you need a punishment for running away.”
Mob was feeling brave. “Oh, so just the punishment from last time.”
Verity laughed. “Yeah, and I can’t wait to watch.”
Mob laughed nervously as Verity fixed his blankets, then moved to the crafting table, crossing his legs and taking a seat. That now familiar fuzziness in his head was starting to come back. The blankets were snuggling him in tightly, it felt oddly satisfying. Pleasure rushed through his blood with nowhere to go, nowhere to move.
He felt the heat dizzy his head. “Oh no, Verity-“
“You asked for this, Mob.”
It was so so so much more intense with eyes on him. He felt like he was being forced to keep eye contact. Even if he closed his eyes he could still feel it. His enderman half didn’t know how to react. Being unable to move was quite literally the opposite of the instinct, and Mob had nowhere for his energy to go. Verity stared down his body like property.
Well, he thought Verity would hold him, maybe pleasure assault him, but not leave him unable to cum. Even after an hour of watching Verity wasn’t bored. Not like he needed physical pleasure. Everything he did with Mob boosted his pride, and right then and there he wanted to watch Mob squirm until he tired himself out, begging for an orgasm.
Mob’s pants were moist by this point. He doesn’t know if it’s sweat, pre-cum, or an actual orgasm because he’s so hazy, but either way he felt exhausted and used. Perfectly, deservingly, rightfully used. He just wished Verity would touch him.
Verity saw the begging look in his eyes. He differentiated it from lust. As much as it was his right to torture Mob, it was his right to please him, to care for him. When he was satisfied with watching, when Mob’s body was about to give from exhaustion, Verity placed his hands over Mob’s cheeks and pressed his warm hands into the irritated skin.
Mob sighed, tears starting again as he tried to stop it with hiccuped breaths. Verity went further, climbing over Mob and hugging in all the warmth, letting Mob be lulled to sleep by it.
“Tomorrow, I’m going to teach you how to behave.” The words tickled his neck as Mob drifted into sleep. They were playful, but firm. “Don’t you want to be good, Mob?”
The fucker laughed. It irritated Mob that his words flustered him, excited him. He knew he had power. He never wouldn’t. Mob was fucked. He moaned into a hug as a response.
“Goodnight, Mob.”
Mob found himself so disappointed that he’d said goodnight instead of good boy. He was really expecting it. Guess that answers his question.