I donât usually make posts like this but I feel like itâs right for the community to know about and block this person.
@helpful-writing-tips has been stealing peopleâs posts, including posts from the whump community, and posting them without consent (sometimes with credit but often without).
Iâve tried to reach out to them directly and discuss how what theyâre doing goes against tumblr etiquette and isnât acceptable but Iâve received no response and I feel like people should be able to prevent their work being stolen for notes.
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Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter 1
CW: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, poc whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump, implied drugging, use of restraints
A huge shoutout to Marz, Gen, and Beck for beta reading this first chapter
Word Count: 2,229 || Next
When Dani woke up, she knew something was wrong.
It didnât occur to her while she still floated in a black haze from last night. It didnât even occur to her as the bright, offensive sunlight struck her face, pulling her from sleep. All of those things could be explained away as ordinary occurrences, the result of a long nightâs rest. However, what could not be explained was the hardwood floor that rested against Daniâs cheek.
Her apartment didnât have hardwood floors.
She awoke slowly, despite her panic. She still felt submerged in a sea of tar, and she knew that something was wrong about that, too. She was sure she hadnât had anything to drink last night, and she hadnât worked a long enough shift to be this tired. She couldnât remember going to bed last night. She couldnât even remember stepping foot in her apartment. Even if she had, she clearly wasnât there now. When her eyes finally peeled open, she begun to see a room she didnât recognize, and the shape of someone seated in a worn leather arm chair across from her.
She wasnât in her apartment, and she wasnât alone.
She tried to move, despite how heavy her limbs felt, and felt resistance as her legs attempted to kick out. She looked down at them and saw a metal cuff clamped around one of her ankles, its chain snaking down and looped to a matching, rusted ring in the floor. She stared at it, the pieces slowly coming together in her muddied mind. She was chained to the floor in a room she didnât recognize with a person she didnât know sitting across from her. It felt so surreal. She gave her ankle a little shake, just to be sure.
âWell, look whoâs finally awake.â A voice rang through the air.
Dani knew that voice.
She remembered when sheâd first heard it at the diner, its southern drawl different from the way her regulars usually spoke. He was from out-of-town, there for one reason or another, whatever reasons brought a man like him to a small town like theirs. Maybe that knowledge, the thought that sheâd never have to see him again, made her particularly brave that day. To do what she had done to him.
Look how much good itâd done her now.
As she squinted her eyes to make him out through the shroud of sunlight surrounding him, she could tell that not much about him had changed. He still had that sandy blond hair, perhaps streaked with more gray than the last time theyâd spoken. His square jawline was now covered in stubble. The harsh sunlight deepened the lines on his face, especially as it shifted into a grin.
The man stood, faintly groaning as his knees snapped into place, and made his way over to her, then bending into a crouch. He was so much closer to her now. Dani wanted to crawl away, far from the appraising gaze of his piercing blue eyes, but her limbs simply would not cooperate.
âItâs been a while since weâve last spoken, hasnât it?â
Whatever strength Dani still had went into kicking her leg out towards him. The chain pulled and stopped her short. He sighed as her foot lightly made contact with his work boots. âWeâll work on that.â
She could make out so much more of him now that he was closer. The way his Adamâs apple bobbed as his eyes made their way up and down her body. She wanted to kick him again. As if reading her thoughts, the man leaned back, out of her reach. âLetâs not get ahead of ourselves,â he chided. âI donât think youâll like what happens if you do.â
âWhat the fuck do you want?â Dani croaked, her tongue heavy.
He gave her a small smile. âDo you remember me, darlinâ? What happened the last time we spoke?â
Of course she did. She almost lost her damn job over it. âIâve got some sort of notion,â she growled, attempting to push herself away from him. It was a clumsy ordeal, but she managed.
He laughed. âIâm sure you do. I canât imagine that went over well with your boss. Tell me, how close was he to firing you after what youâd done?â
She steeled her jaw.
He rolled his eyes. âOh, darlinâ. Letâs be civil about this. I just want to have a conversation with you.â
âMaybe Iâll consider it,â Dani said, attempting to ignore the way her head swam as she pulled herself into a sitting position. âOnce Iâm not chained to the floor.â
The man shook his head. âNo, not yet. You havenât earned it.â
Earned it? âThen Iâm not interested in speaking to you.â
He sighed again, fiddling with the pocket of his jeans. âIf you know whatâs good for you, youâll realize that talking to me is a lot better alternative to what else I could be doing to you right now.â
âLike what?â
He chuckled. âWould you really like to find that out?â
No, she didnât. But she wasnât going to be the one to admit it.
The man pulled a wrapped up piece of thick leather from his pocket. âDo you know what this is, darlinâ?â He asked, wrapping the leather around his hand. âItâs a whip switch. Now, Iâm not opposed to using it on you if thatâs what you really want, but Iâm sure youâd prefer talking to me instead. Wouldnât you?â
All Dani could do was nod.
âWhat do you mean about having to earn it?â She asked, voice wavering.
The man hummed, rocking back and forth on his feet. âI have plans for us, darlinâ. Plans you arenât gonna like. But thatâs okay. You donât gotta like them. You just have to go along with them, save yourself some trouble that way.â
âLike what?â She spat out, frustrated.
He stood up, groaning as he straightened his legs. âNow, it wouldnât be any fun if I told you from the jump, would it?â He began to pace the room, a study of some kind. Dani could feel the wall to wall bookshelves pressed against her back. Could see the leather arm chair in the opposite corner of the room, with the side table and lamp next to it. It wouldâve been charming, had Dani not been chained to the floor. âIâd say weâll start off slow, but that wouldnât quite be true. I like to get the dirty work out of the way first, makes it easier down the line.â
âYou say that like youâve done this before.â
He looked at her, amused. âWhat makes you think I havenât?â He gestured down to the metal ring. âThatâs not new, you know. Itâs seen plenty of girls before itâs seen you.â
Daniâs stomach curled in on itself.
âI think we should establish some ground rules first. How does that sound?â
âFuck you.â
The man cleared his throat. âSo, rule one: youâre gonna do what I say, when I say it. No, donât look at me like thatâyouâre gonna want to follow this rule. Because if you follow it, youâre gonna save us both a lot of time and energy avoiding some of the punishments thatâll happen if you donât. Do you understand me?â
Dani bristled. âLike hell I will.â
âItâs non-negotiable. Break a rule, I break something of yours. Itâs simple, really. Rule one wonât be as hard as you think it will. At least, not after a while, it wonât. Youâll catch on fast.â He fixed her with another look. âRule two will be harder for you. Youâre gonna have to watch your mouth.â
âThis is bullshit,â Dani muttered to herself.
âAh, ah. Weâve barely even gone 0ver the rules and youâre already starting to break them. Would you really prefer to have this conversation end in a punishment?â Dani shook her head. âThen watch your mouth.â
Dani looked around the room for something, anything, that she could reach. She had the books behind her, but they wouldnât do much, not against him. You couldnât pick a lock with a book, either. And she wouldnât be getting very far with that damn cuff on her ankle.
âRule three: you wonât, under any circumstance, leave this cabin without a chaperone. That will most likely be me. There are gonna be some pretty damning consequences if you do, and, quite frankly, I donât feel like chasing you down to see where youâve ended up.â
âHow the hell am I gonna leave the cabin if Iâm chained to the floor, genius?â Dani asked, chain rattling as she shook her ankle.
The man sighed. âYou really are a bad listener, arenât you? Youâll lose the chain when youâve earned it. Which means following the rules. Which you are currently doing a piss poor job at.â He got closer to her. Dani tried to push herself into the shelf behind her, but there was nowhere left to go. âDo you know why Iâm doing this? Why Iâve gone to all the trouble of doing this instead of just killing you?â
âIâm gonna guess itâs because you get off on it.â
She hoped she sounded braver than she felt.
He just shook his head. âItâs because I think you and Iâve got some unfinished business to attend to. And killing you just ainât gonna cut it.â
Dani straightened up. âAnd what happens if I keep breaking the rules?â She asked. âWill you get sick of me and get it over with?â
âNo,â He said slowly. âBut youâre gonna wish I had.â
âOh my God,â Dani groaned. âYouâre insane.â
His eyebrows rose. âIs that right.â Dani could tell his patience for her antics was dwindling. His finger tapped against his crossed arms impatiently. âWell, I think Iâve had enough of this for the day. Weâll get started on our lessons together tomorrow.â
âLessons?â
He ignored her and started for the glass paned double doors on the other side of her.
A thought came to Dani. âWait,â she called out. The man turned back to her, eyebrows raised. âDo you think youâll do it?â
He sighed, exasperated. âDo what, darlinâ.â
âWhatever it is you plan on doing with me. Do you think youâll do it?â
The man gave her a small smile. âI sure hope so.â
As he went to leave again, Dani piped up, saying, âI really need to use the rest room.â
The man stopped.
âCan Iââ Dani sighed, frustrated. âCan I go to the bathroom, please?â
He considered it. âItâd probably be best to get that bit of business over with, wouldnât it.â He made his way back over to her.
âGood to know youâre not into that as well,â Dani murmured as he began to mess with the cuff around her ankle. He yanked on her ankle as he gave her a dirty look. âJesus, sorry.â
The man pulled at his collar, producing a necklace with a key hanging from it that he then pulled over his head and held in his hand. Dani watched reverently, noticing how the dull metal rubbed against his fingers as he brought the key to the cuff and turned it into the lock. She yanked her ankle out of the cuff as soon as the lock popped open, leaning down to rub circles into the tender skin. He didnât wait for her to finish, instead pulling Dani up by the arm to stand.
Walking her to the door, he turned to her and said, âDonât get any ideas.â
âWouldnât dream of it,â she grumbled back.
They were instantly met with the back of a sofa once they stepped out of the study, into a room with both a living area and a dated kitchen. Dani glanced past the red knitted blanket hanging from the arm of the sofa and the end table to stare at the wooden door from across the room, sunlight peeking through the window in it. An exit. As they walked past the kitchen down to the hall, she saw a figure standing by the sink, who turned to look back at her.
Another girl.
She was young, younger than Dani was, but taller, too. Long, blonde hair hung down her shoulders, running down in rivulets that reached past her elbows. Her height had left her willowy, limbs slim enough to snap at the slightest bit of pressure. She pulled down the rolled up sleeves of her blue sweater and worried the loose threads as she stared back.
The man quickly ushered her along, not giving her any more time to watch as the other girl stared right back at her. âWho is that?â Dani asked, craning her neck to get another look.
âSheâs none of your concern,â was all the man said back, pulling the second door down the hallway open to reveal a modest bathroom, tightly squeezed with older fixtures. âMake it fast, I donât have all day.â
Dani nodded, turning to enter the room.
Then, she turned back around and swung her fist right at his jaw.
It connected with a crack, sending him careening towards the wall, gripping his face and groaning. Dani could hear a gasp from across the cabin. She didnât waste a moment. She wrenched her arm away and backed out of his grasp.
And then, she started to run.
Tag List: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @heartinthehospital, @another-whump-sideblog
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Is He Safe?
CW: Captivity, creepy whumper. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 5: Covert Identity. (Jax, as always, used with permission and oversight from @comfy-whumpee)
Takes place during Jaxâs first captivity.
The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist
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The ocean sounds like itâs breathing, a constant rhythm of water against the shore. Further down the way, groups of people laugh, throw beach balls, or otherwise enjoy the brilliant sunshine and growing warmth of the day.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of one of the Marcoset vacation homes, the beach is perfectly empty. Private, and privately theirs. At a white table in a white kitchen, Savvie sits, one hand laid over his, watching her best friend speak to his father on the phone.Â
Jax is allowed one phone call per week, with Savvie by his side of course. Sheâs written out a few ideas for him on what to talk about on a little piece of paper.Â
If he asks about:
How you are: Great!Â
Mention foods you have eaten recently that you like
Change the subject
What youâre doing: Hanging out with friends!Â
You love traveling around with me
We have a goal of seeing all fifty states! Youâre really looking forward to seeing Alaska
Where you are: Tell him weâre at the beach in Florida
Seashells
Walking by the ocean
Sunshine
Talk about that concert we went to
Ask him about himself as often as possible
I will end the call if he upsets you
Theyâre really⊠optional.
Just guidelines on how to keep the conversation nice and light. He doesnât have to use them, if he doesnât want to, although of course he wants to. Easier, that way, it must be so much easier than trying to come up with things to talk about all on his own, right? Besides, sheâs been able to keep his collar off all week here, and sheâd like to not have to put it back on before they even get back home.Â
Taking him out to eat and to shops feels like regular, normal life - briefly, Savvie forgets her grief over the loss of her parents, which still sometimes appears in deep waves that knock her over and leave her lying in bed weeping for a day or two on end, Jax cleaning somewhere in the house while Savvie canât even begin to know how to go check on him or see what heâs up to.Â
It doesnât matter. Heâll just be cleaning, anyway. Unless she forgets to let him out of his room, and then heâll just be sitting on his bed, or staring at nothing.Â
âWe, uh-â Jax clears his throat, and it jerks Savvie out of her reverie. She shoots him an encouraging smile, and he answers it automatically before he looks away from her again, looking out at the sea where it laps against the shore. His arm shifts under her touch, and she watches with fascination as goosebumps rise. She rubs at them, watching with delight as he shivers. His voice trembles, but only a little. His dad probably canât hear it. âWeâre in Fl-Florida, right now. Spent last week at the beach, yeah. Picking-... seashells and shit like that.â
âYou picked⊠seashells?â Thereâs a note of something Savvie canât read in Jaxâs dadâs voice - he sounds almost doubtful, although itâs honestly true. Not the Florida part, but they did spend the last week at the Marcoset family beachhouse in North Carolina. Close enough. In any case, Jax absolutely spent a couple hours yesterday picking up the seashells Savvie pointed out to him, putting them into a little bag to wash and take back home. She'd even found a little bit of rock washed smooth by saltwater in the shape of a heart.
âUh, yeah, we-... my-... my friends are into it, I guess,â Jax says, and looks at her again. She nods, and smiles, and gives his hand a little squeeze of approval. Heâs doing so well. âHonestly I m-mostly just⊠hang out.â
âGetting a tan, then, are you?â
âB-bit of one,â Jax responds. Heâs pale as a ghost, he hardly ever goes outside. When they lay out on the beach, Savvie makes him wear SPF 100+ sunscreen that lathers on as thick as chalk paste. But⊠his dad doesnât need to know that either.
âWell, thatâs good, then. But, Jax⊠these... friends of yours that you're withâŠâ
All the conversations happen on speakerphone, but Savvie stays quiet and neither of them mention to the soft-spoken Brit on the other end that she is there. Jax knows better.
His eyes close, briefly, and then he looks steadfast out at the ocean. âTheyâre nice, Dad. I t-told you.â
âRight, but-â
âHowâs Mam?â
The subject change isnât done well, but his dad goes with it, answering reluctantly and allowing himself to be led away from questioning Jaxâs mysterious friends. The first few times he asked, Savvie reached over and hung up the phone, and then made sure Jax didn't call him for weeks on end.
Now, Jax makes sure the wrong kind of questions stop fast.Â
She isnât forcing him to. It's not like they arenât friends, like they arenât on a beach trip, like he isnât having a great time. And he can still call his dad, of course. Itâs not like⊠a threat, or anything. Just that Jax gets so worked up, and itâs better for him to just not talk to his dad at all for a while if itâs going to cause him so much pain and worry.
That doesnât happen anymore. Jax cuts it off before it can.
Content, Savvie curls her fingers until the tips brush against his palm, and feels his muscles twitch in response. Savvie tells herself heâs squeezing back. Theyâre friends now. She tells him everything, and heâs such a good listener. They go on weekly coffee dates, just as friends of course, where he sits in the sun by the window, sipping black coffee and watching Savvie as she tells him about⊠anything. Everything. Sheâs gone on three dates during this monthlong beach vacay and told him all the dirty details the morning after each one, while they wait for breakfast to be delivered from the bakery down the road.
One man she'd even brought back to the beach house, and Jax had been there, an unobtrusive presence cleaning up after breakfast that her date hadn't even asked about.
All her thoughts and feelings spill out of her with Jax, and itâs amazing. Sheâd been feeling so alone when her parents died, and Jax has made sure she knows sheâs never, ever going to be alone again.Â
Heâs been such a good friend to her. And sheâs been such a good friend to him in return, giving him these trips out and days off his work cleaning her house, letting him speak to his dad as long as he doesnât start telling him lies or anything like that. Letting him come out of the shell the training place had put him into, letting him be sober most of the time instead of drugged like her uncle keeps telling her he should be.
Heâs such a good friend.
Heâs so good.
Theyâre going to be best friends for their whole lives.Â
She gives his hand another little squeeze and smiles. He echoes the expression, a half-second delayed, his attention torn between her and the voice coming through the phone.
â... -coming home any time soon?â His dad asks, a little hesitantly. Heâs asked that before, and Savvieâs smile briefly fades away, her brows furrowing in distaste.Â
He keeps asking.Â
Jaxâs eyes flicker to her, searching her face for what heâs supposed to say - this isnât written on the paper in front of him. Sheâd figured the old dolt would stop asking by now. She gives a slight shake of her head.Â
âN-not soon, Dad, no,â Jax answers, without looking away from Savvie. The sun warms the handsome lines of his face and sets those hazel eyes to sparkling. Honestly, you could get lost in eyes like that. If she ever meets a man she wants to marry, and lets Jax date once she has someone else to spend her time with, some girl is going to fall head over heels for him just because of those pretty eyes.
She ignores a twist of some faint ugly feeling, refusing to see it as jealousy. He and his girlfriend can both work for her, that would be fine. Isaac probably has some staff he could choose from, if he wants a girlfriend or a wife. Or maybe one of the other families would have someone. Savvie would have to approve, of course. He'd have to marry someone Savvie thought was good enough for him.
Maybe she should pick someone out for him, she'd know better than he does what he needs, anyway.
âWeâd like to see you,â Alfie offers, voice soft, not judging or angry. âWe all miss you. Your mam, too, and your sisters-â
âI-I know, Dad.â Jax swallows. Thereâs a pain in his face Savvie wants so badly to soothe, to hug right out of him. She squeezes his hand again, harder this time, and he jumps a little, as if shocked back into awareness. âSorry. You⊠you know h-how it is in America.â
His dad hums, noncommittal. He probably doesnât know anything about living here, really, and Savvie canât blame him - she knows more about Russia than she does England, and one day Jax can go with her to visit Moscow and see the balletâŠ
The thought makes her smile, wistful and daydreaming already about how Jax will get to see so many new things, living with her. Sheâll be as good a friend to him as heâs been to her and show him so, so muchâŠ
Jaxâs shoulders relax just a little bit when he sees her expression back to pleased. He chances a look back at the phone, but of course thereâs nothing there but the call screen, the number, the time ticking away in seconds and minutes until Savvie tells him to say his goodbyes for another week.Â
âIâll let you know if I-I can come sometime,â Jax says. His breathing isnât quite as steady, now. He isnât looking at her.Â
She doesnât like him as much when he isnât looking at her.
âJax, are you-... are you safe?â His fatherâs voice softens even further, hard to hear through the phone. âIs someone keeping you from having your own phone-... I donât know, just. We miss you. You know if you ever need to talk-â
Savvieâs eyes narrow. She leans over and firmly presses her index finger down on the red button to end the call.Â
Jax exhales in a rush, looking over at her with wide eyes that look oddly hurt. She pulls the phone back to herself and turns it off in case the stupid old man calls back.Â
âDonât look at me like that,â She snaps, her good mood dissipating now, dissolving as she thinks about the question.
Are you safe?
His hands are rough, calloused and with skin that cracks and peels from the harsh chemicals that he cleans her house with. There are circles under his pretty eyes because he doesnât sleep very well. Savvie isnât much of a cook and the two of them mostly live on delivery and whatever can be safely popped into an oven and ignored for a while. He has scars around his neck in a little circle, like an odd reddish necklace.Â
Sometimes she has him sleep in her room and she holds him, feeling the careful rise and fall of his breathing beside her. She has given him new clothes to wear when they go out and takes off his collar so no one will realize that heâs just staff. She lets him call his stupid family when Savvie should be all the family he needs, and his dad has the gall to not even be grateful for it.Â
Is he safe?
What kind of question is that?
âMiss Savvie-â
âShut up.â Jaxâs mouth snaps shut, and Savvie fights a prickle of guilt, trying to tell herself it isnât what it seems like from the outside. âHonestly, how dare he? As if I would ever let any harm come to you. How dare he!â
She throws the phone. Jax flinches when it bounces off a wall and hits the ground with a crack, shoulders hunching in an attempt at self protection.Â
âHe, heâs just-... w-worried, Miss Savvie-â Jax is leans away from her when she stands. She ignores it - heâs her friend, heâs not scared of her, heâs just surprised by the phone being thrown, is all. They were nasty to him at that place where he learned how to work, and he just⊠doesnât like sudden movements.Â
Thatâs all.
He knows Savvie would never really hurt him, if heâs good.Â
Savvie stalks over to the fallen phone and picks it up, rolling her eyes when she sees the screen is cracked now. âNot again. Ugh, Jax, your dad drives me crazy! Maybe I should take you to see him just so heâll stop asking all the damn time about it!â
âIf-... thatâs what y-you want, Miss Savvie,â Jax answers, cautiously. Savvie hates this version of him the most, where he gets quiet and barely speaks. Hates even more that itâs her own anger that made him that way.
No.
Itâs his dad asking stupid questions, thatâs what did it. Not Savvieâs perfectly logical response to them.Â
âHe⊠he is just awful, isnât he?â Savvie says, voice flat and angry, setting her broken phone down on the counter. Sheâll have another one delivered today. âI donât know how you can stand to even talk to him, Jax, heâs so⊠rude.â
Jax is silent, now.Â
That rankles even more, that he doesnât agree with her and he doesnât argue. He just watches her, and she can feel the weight of his eyes and usually it just means heâs listening to her but right now sheâs sure it means heâs judging her.Â
âRight. Well, heâs clearly stressing you out.â She straightens her shoulders, taking in a deep breath. She makes her voice cheerful and relaxed, hoping her body will follow suit. âSo. Here is what weâll do. Until I think youâre okay to talk to him without getting so worked up, then weâll take a break from the calls, huh? Doesnât that sound like a good idea?â
He still doesnât answer.
His answer is not required.
Honestly, sheâd just get angrier if he did answer.
Is he safe. It circles around and around in her mind. Sheâs the best thing that ever happened to him. She was given a cowed, frightened, silent slave to clean her home and now heâs got his own room, his own things, heâs her very best friend. He goes everywhere she goes. She hardly even lets him out of her sight.Â
Is he safe?
âGet your swimsuit on,â She says, turning away and pointing towards the stairs to the second floor, watching as he hesitantly gets to his feet, watching her still. âWeâre going swimming.â
âM-Miss Savvie-â
âNot one word about it, Jax. You can talk to that nasty creep again when I am damn good and ready.â She finally looks back at him. "You don't belong to him, Jax. You don't owe him anything."
âYes, Miss Savvie.â Whatever he must see in her eyes keeps him from trying to talk it out any further. Good.Â
He heads for the stairs, and she falls in just behind, running her fingers over the cracks in her phone screen, her skin catching at the edge of one, just a little.
Is he safe?
Heâs the safest heâs ever been.
As long as he doesn't care about anyone else more than he cares about her.Â
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All We Have Is Each Other
CW: Intimate whumper, captivity, defiant whumpee, biting, creepy whumper, obsessive whumper, noncon kiss, vague noncon references, drugging. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 1: Duel
The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist
Takes place during Jaxâs second captivity. As always, Jax is used with oversight and permission from @comfy-whumpee)
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Savvie rolls dice every time she uses the mortar and pestle in the kitchen to grind up one of her collections of pills and mix it into Jaxâs drink.
Sheâs always gambling with the drugs. The first part of the game is seeing whether heâll drink it before he realizes thereâs something in it. If she doesnât mix it well enough, heâll see the cloudy bits floating around in the glass and look at her with terrible sad eyes. Sometimes she canât take it. She just takes the drink right back out of his hand and pours it out, makes him a new one.Â
Other the other hand, sometimes his sad voice and sad eyes piss her off worse than anything else could, and she just tips it up until he chokes and makes him finish it anyway. Or shocks him, pressing the button to the remote and watching his muscles lock up, knowing heâll look sweeter once heâs fighting the way his muscles jerk afterward, the unconscious twitches he canât quite get rid of as the aftermath works its way through him.Â
Sometimes he even looks scared. Those nights are some of her favorites. Savvie never loves Jax as much as she does when he is scared of her.Â
But... she canât keep him scared all the time. What kind of marriage would they have if she did that? No, the drinks arenât to scare him, theyâre just to make⊠to make things easier. And she doesnât always do it! She doesnât always drug him, but itâs enough that he never trusts her. She knows that. He doesnât⊠trust easily.Â
Thatâs okay.Â
Their relationship got off to a rough start, thatâs all, what with Jax starting off as one of the staff, bought and paid for. Plus, Jaxâs dad convinced him Savvie was evil, once upon a time when he ran away from her. Taught him to hate her. She had to have her uncle fly all the way to England to bring Jax back, and itâs taking years to undo all the damage that stupid old man did.Â
Thatâs okay. Heâs getting better, heâs definitely getting better. He is. He has to be getting better.Â
Still⊠heâs not an easy man to be married to. Not with having to keep an eye on the remote to his shock collar so he canât take it off and try to run away again, not with the way he watches her sometimes like he wants to dunk her head into the toilet and hold it there until she drowns. Putting stuff in his drink just lets Savvie be able to relax.Â
She doesnât have to worry about what he might do when heâs so high he canât do much of anything. Besides, itâs only like one out of every ten nights, sometimes twenty, sometimes she even goes for a month or two without doing it.Â
She really doesnât even want to. If he would just learn to be happy without it, she wouldnât have to keep drugging him, would she? If heâd just stop being so difficult about being her husband⊠but that isnât fair. He canât be any better than he is, not really. Jax just⊠isnât wired that way.
So she has to help him a little, to make it so he can have nights when he canât stay mad at her. Or at least nights when his anger isnât able to simmer in there behind his eyes while he says Yes, Miss Savvie or No, Miss Savvie like thereâs a gun to his head.Â
Still. Trying to give him these evenings where both of them just relax⊠itâs always a gamble.Â
Even if he drinks whatever she makes without realizing itâs spiked, he doesnât always react the same way. If sheâs lucky - if her dice rolls well - the drugs make Jax⊠softer. Heâll lean against her when some of his strength slides away, not seek out touch but loathe it less. Those are the nights she can coax a sound out of him that isnât clipped or tense. She still thinks about the night she gave him a back rub and he genuinely fell asleep sitting on the floor between her knees, his head drifting until it rested on her leg, the knots of tension slowly loosening beneath her kneading hands until she got distracted by the movie and forgot what she was doing.Â
Sometimes he smiles, when heâs blurry and unfocused. Smiles, enough to show teeth even⊠God, sometimes he even laughs at some of Savvieâs jokes. Itâs rare, but it happens. She loves those nights the best. Those are the nights that their marriage almost feels normal⊠if she just ignores the dilated pupils and the way he canât stand up on his own.Â
Sometimes he gets so foggy he canât stop laughing, which is irritating but at least adorable to watch and take videos of to make him look at later on the next day when he sobers up again. Sometimes the side effects make him too scared to smile, his eyes darting nervously everywhere watching the movements of shadows he swears are watching him. She⊠tries not to give him those pills anymore.
The nights tend to end with her telling him to take off his shirt so she can enjoy the view, or even his pants, too. She usually waits on that, though, because it doesnât matter how good the drugs are - he always hesitates when it comes to taking off his pants, as soon as his fingers touch the boxers with their oddly rolled waistband.Â
It reminds him he doesnât want to be here. Makes his addled mind come back to the collar he wears around his neck, to the reality of the life theyâre living, the marriage Savvie has built all by herself whether he wanted to or not.
And he⊠he didnât want to.Â
So normally she waits on the getting naked bit until theyâre in the bedroom and what he wants matters so much less that neither of them think about it any longer. The drugs, at least, make it harder for him to slow her down in there.Â
Savvie tries not to think about that, because she doesnât remember it that way. She likes the nights best where he doesnât even try to fight, just lets her pull him upstairs and she gets to bury her hands in his hair and tell him what to do and have him, languid and loose-limbed, follow every command without the tension and misery he usually carries into their bed.Â
She doesnât always roll well.Â
Sometimes, she rolls snake eyes⊠and she gets this, instead.
âFuckâs sake,â Jax groans, words slurring around the edges, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pushes clumsily away from her, nearly falling off the couch before he manages to catch himself. âFor⊠fâr fuckâs sake, Savvie, what the fuck.â
His wedding ring glints, light from the TV bouncing off the deceptively plain platinum band. Sheâs hit all over again with a wave of love for him, for the life sheâs built after he was brought back home to be hers forever, just like he always should have been. Sheâd been an idiot not to see it, not until he was gone and she spent years in prison dreaming about getting him back.Â
âFuckâs sake what?â She asks, voice light, smiling at him and poking him in the shoulder where they sit on the couch.Â
He doesnât slap her hand away, but she sees him look at her and⊠he wants to. His expression is dark. The light is bouncing off his hazel eyes, too, giving them a strange sheen of white that wipes out the color, obscures even his dilated pupils slowly taking over the iris. âWhat the fuck was it?â
âWhat was what?â
âWhat the fuck did you give me?â He goes to push himself to standing only to have his knees buckle beneath him, crashing him to the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. Savvieâs mouth waters, and she swallows, trying to ignore the flutter of fascinated interest in watching his fingernails scrape the rug as he tries to steady himself. âWhat the fuck is it, Savvie?â
âIt doesnât matter,â She answers, without changing her own tone, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs. Her hair falls in heavy waves down her back and over her shoulders. âItâs not anything that could hurt you.â
This time, he doesn't say Miss Savvie or try out the sad eyes. Instead, he looks away. She can nearly hear his teeth grinding. âYeah, but once Iâm all fucked up, you will.â
âDonât be rude,â Savvie chides him, but she doesnât move. He looks good, on his hands and knees on the floor. Well, he looks good all the time, really, but he looks even better on his hands and knees. She knows the physique heâs built with the workout routine she makes him do, knows the muscles there hidden beneath the green sweater and jeans heâs wearing. âYouâve been stressed all week. Iâm just trying to help-â
âFucking shit, the hell you are!â He manages to sit back on his knees, then collapses back until his back hits the edge of the couch cushions, upright through sheer force of will and a bit of good luck. His hands lay limp at his sides, now. When he turns to look at her, his eyes donât focus quite right - but the fury in them is clear.
Well.
Tonightâs not going to be the best night for them, then, she supposes. She feels the edge of a headache starting up, and sighs, looking mournfully at the movie sheâd pulled up for them to watch. Another night, then. A night when the gamble pays off and doesnât backfire. A night when he canât remember how to be angry at her.
âFine,â She says, heavily. âIâm not trying to help you. Iâm trying to help me.âHer own voice changes - drops almost a full octave from her usual carefully constructed diction and sweetness to something sharper. âIâm making tonight easier on me. Making you less⊠less-â She can't think of a good way to end the sentence, so she just lets it hang there between them.Â
Jax snorts, looking away again. His head keeps lolling forward until his chin nearly touches his chest before he jerks it back again. âYeah, I fucking know,â He manages, but his slurring is getting worse. âShit fâr brains.â
Savvie sniffs, but the fake tears aren't coming as easily as they usually do. She probably accidentally gave him too much again. Itâs just sometimes so hard to remember exactly how much the dose is supposed to beâŠ
âI donât enjoy you being cruel to me any more than you enjoy it when I do it to you, you know,â She says, suddenly⊠so tired. She spends so much time and effort creating a marriage herself out of a man her uncle bought for her once and abducted for her the second time, and sheâs doing this all on her own - no one helps her, not really. And Jax never gives up.
Sheâd been sure heâd start to settle in and understand by now, but he just⊠he just doesnât. And sheâs so tired. Her fingers toy with the little black remote to his shock collar. Maybe she should just⊠just give up on having a good night and punish him for the cursing until he just bites off his stupid tongue.Â
No, wait.Â
She likes what he does with his tongue, when she gives the order. Heâs so good with it now. Maybe⊠maybe just a small shock. Just to remind him he's hers. She takes a deep breath. âJax⊠get on your-â
âOn mâknees fâr discipline?â He starts laughing before she can finish, cutting her off, letting his head fall totally back against the arm of the couch until heâs staring at the ceiling. He sounds wild, almost like an animal. Her quiet watchful husband is feral, and Savvie resolves never to give him the pill she gave him tonight ever again. âYeah, fucking⊠fuckinâ do it. Second I donât play along, there yâgo. Bzzzt.â He cackles, a cracked bark of laughter sheâs never heard him make before. âShut me up so you donât hear me say it.â
Savvieâs heart twists. âSay what?â
The laughter dies in him as suddenly as it appeared. He turns his head, or tries to - it mostly just falls to one side until heâs looking at her. Their eyes meet, his all black pupil and hers with nearly no pupil at all. âHow much I fucking hate your fucking guts.â
âYou donât hate me.â She says it firmly, as if heâs being ridiculous. âDonât be mean, Jax. You donât hate me at all.â
She takes a deep breath. Married couples have fights, even ugly ones sometimes, and they work it out-
âYeah. I⊠I really do.â Disgusted, thatâs the tone in his voice. Disgusted with her. âI do. I hate you.â
âWhy do you hate me?â
The look he gives her is such a blatant are you a complete fucking moron that she can hear his voice even though he doesnât say a word.Â
âNo, hold on.â She waves one hand, dismissing her own question. His eyes briefly follow the movements of her fingers, distracted by whatever the drugs make him see there. Trails of light, maybe. Itâs probably beautiful. âHold on. I know why-â
âDo you?â His question is sharp, snapped, even as his every muscle can barely tense enough to move. âDo you fuckinâ really?â
âYes. I do.â Savvieâs too tired to talk him in a circle tonight. Sheâs just⊠too exhausted by her bad gamble, bringing neither the snuggly Jax or the scared one, but this angry, vengeful animal instead.
Her headache is getting worse.Â
She grabs her glass of wine off the coffee table and chugs it so fast a little drip escapes the corner of her mouth and runs down her chin. She has to wipe it away, wincing at the⊠at the idea of how that looks. Her mother would have had a fit about it. If she hadnât died years ago. âBecause I had you kidnapped.âÂ
Jax is silent, for a beat. He squints at her. âFuck⊠whatâd you say? Might be hearinâ shit.âÂ
She laughs, softly. Not her usual laughter, crafted to fill up a room and put all eyes on her. This laugh is barely there, but far more genuine. âNo. You're not hallucinating, that shouldn't happen with what I gave you tonight.â
âOh, good, not this fucking drugging, then, jussss-â His head falls too far to one side and he forces it back up, groaning. âJusss⊠others.â
âOnly one of the pills does that. And you were cute when you thought there were monsters in the bathroom.â She gets that flat stare from him again and this time she can't hold eye contact, looking down and away, still fiddling with the remote to his collar. âI just. I do know what I did, Jax.â
âYeah, I fucking know you know-â
âI had you kidnapped.â She takes a deep breath. It feels oddly good to say, like a scene in a movie confessing to a priest. A foul-mouthed priest sheâs been sleeping with for over a year. The thought makes her smile, just a little. âMy uncle had people watching you, and when I was ready, he knew where youâd be and he abducted you for me. I know that. I know that youâd run, if you could. Iâd take your collar off right now if I thought youâd stay without wearing it.â
Jax is silent for so long she briefly wonders if he's flat out forgotten how to talk. Then he shrugs - or tries to, his arms don't quite follow his commands. âYouâd find somethinâ else, some other reason for shit âround my neck. You fuckinâ like it.â
For the first time, she doesn't deny it. âI do.â She laughs at the way he looks almost comically surprised, unable to keep his usual closed-off expressions in place with the drug coursing through his veins. âWhat? Can't a girl have a kink?â
âSure fuckinâ can, but you⊠you don' have a kink, you got⊠goddamn victims.â
â... I⊠yeah. But it-... that's not my point. It isn't about the collar, Jax. Your wedding ring does it for me, too. I could barely wait to get you home after we signed the marriage certificate.â
The glare is back. His hatred is blistering her skin. She watches him try to stand, making it nearly upright before he falls back down again with a heavy thump.Â
Her mouth twitches. âYou want help, sweetie?â
âFfffuck you.âÂ
âWell, I mean, if youâre asking so nicely.â She giggles at her own joke.Â
He mumbles something she can't quite hear, trying to stand one more time but quickly giving up. He makes it onto the couch, at least. Savvie stands, turning to grab his ankles, shifting so heâs lying on his back, head and feet each cushioned by the arms of the comfortable, overstuffed couch. He struggles weakly, and it's hard work, but she gets him where she wants him. She barely breathes, taking in his chest rising and falling under his sweater, how his inhales are coming more sharply.Â
She can't help herself.Â
Savvie climbs on top of him, like sheâs done a hundred times. She straddles him, sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss his neck, nosing under his jaw. At first, his head tips back in resignation - but then he curses and pushes at her weakly instead. âDonât.â
She grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. Heâs so weak, the drugs have taken all that muscle and made them⊠useless at holding her off. Thereâs a shiver of excitement down her spine. âUh-uh, sweetie. Youâre the one who said to fuck you, remember?â
She feels a thrill at saying fuck, like sheâs still a kid sneaking swears in her room when her parents wonât overhear.Â
âDon't,â He groans. âSav-... Savvie, stop. Gât off me. I hate you.â
âI know.â She smiles down at him. His eyes meet hers, tired and bleary. Furious and almost resigned. âI know you hate me, Jax⊠but I love you.â
She leans down, her hair a waterfall curtain, blocking them both off from the world. She can smell the cologne she buys for him, blended with her own pricey perfume. His wrists jerk against her grip and she digs her nails in until he grunts in pain and the skin gives beneath.Â
âSavvie,â he whispers.Â
âSssshhh.â She lets go with one hand, shifting both his wrists to her other one, and presses a finger against his lips. âI love you so much,â She whispers. âAnd I don't need you to love me back, sweetie, I donât. I just need you to lie for me.â
 She kisses him, then, pressing her lips firmly to his. For half a second, his mouth is slack and unresisting even as his body shudders with disgust. Heâs warm, his skin burning up beneath her. Her mouth moves against his, trying to get him to answer her, to open up.
His lips gently part. For a brief moment, Savvie feels the rush of victory.
Then he bites.
Pain blooms in a sudden flare as his teeth bury themselves into her lower lip and he jerks his head to the side, sensitive skin tearing.
âShit!â Savvie jerks backwards, staring down at him wide-eyed. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. Itâs smeared on his lips and his teeth like badly-done lipstick as he gives her a smile that's really a snarl. âOh my God, Jax-... how dare you-â
âFuck you! Don't fucking touch me!â He gets his arms more or less under his own control and shoves her off of him. She crashes into the coffee table, the legs giving out, tumbling her to the floor. Pain spikes hot and demanding along her hip where she hits the hard angle of the corner and she finds herself the one lying on the floor, while Jax slowly sits up, wiping blood off his lips.Â
Her blood.Â
Savvie pulls her fingers from her mouth and gasps. Thereâs a smear of red, bright and vibrant, the unmistakable sense of blood trickling down over her chin. She tongues at the wound, then winces as the pain flares bright, like heâs bitten her all over again. She considers tears - looks at the loathing in his eyes, the absolute rage written in the lines of his face - and then decides theyâre wasted on him tonight. Instead, she just shakes her head. âThat hurt.â
âGood. Don' like beinâ the one fucking bleeding for once, huh?â His eyes drift closed. He struggles to open them again, to keep his eyes on her. âShit feelinâ, isn't it?âÂ
âGod.â She swallows. Blood on her tongue is making her feel nauseous and she gets to her feet carefully. Her mouth and hip throb. Sheâs going to be so bruised tomorrow, going to ache so much. âYouâre awful sometimes, you know that?â
âYeah.â He grins. He hasn't bothered to try and get the red off his teeth. âI know. So⊠so fffffuckinâ get rid of me, then.â
Savvie snorts, limping a little as she moves to pick up the spilled wine bottle from the floor. She could shock him now - thatâs what she would usually do. Or call Isaac and have him carted off to spend another month locked in the kennels with the dogs. He⊠probably doesnât care about that, though. Anything to get away from her. Anything is better than her, to him.
âGet rid of you?â She drinks the last swallow in the bottle, washing blood down her throat with the wine. âThen what, Jax? I should just⊠live here alone, without you, for the rest of my life?â
âFucking-... yes, or go fucking die. I don't fucking care.â The flush of hot anger bleeds away, his voice softening a little. âI don't⊠don' care, Savvie. I donât care about you.â
âNo. You do.â She feels a burst of desperation to make him understand. âYou hate me, right? Thatâs caring about me, still.â
âSavvie-â
âNo. I love you. You are mine, and I am keeping you. This is love, Jax. What I feel for you is true love.âÂ
He shakes his head, swaying a little where he sits. He tries to push her away again as she takes him by the arm but his burst of energy seems to have used him up. He lets her, in the end, get him onto his feet. She leads him on his unsteady legs out of the room, and he stumbles along with her.Â
âS'not love,â He mumbles. She keeps an arm around his waist to help him balance. âFucking⊠fuck you. Let me leave, Savvie.â
He doesn't have the strength to push her away, not anymore. He has to use her to stay up as they take the stairs one at a time, although after three or four he jerks away again and uses the railing, leaning heavily against it as he drags himself upwards, inch by inch, step by step.Â
She lets him pull away, watching his determination to not need her, how badly he doesnât even want her. Thereâs a canyon inside of her, something dark and deep that hurts so much worse than her hip or her torn open lower lip, threatening to claw its way out as she watches the man she has forced to play the role of her husband do anything he can to avoid her touch.Â
Her jaw sets. âIt is. It is love, and you know what? Itâs all the love youâre going to get. Ever. No one else will ever love you.â Savvieâs voice stays low. âYouâre not⊠youâre not lovable, Jax, but I donât care, I love you anyway. Nobody else would. No one is ever going to even want to love you but me.â
He slumps. The fightâs all gone out of him, for now. Her gamble failed tonight and Jax is buckling under the weight of what runs through his veins, the heavy expectations in her eyes and her smile and her devotion.Â
âFuck,â is all he says, barely a whisper under his breath.
Savvie sighs, touching her fingers to her lip again. The bleeding has slowed but thereâs still a spot of red. âGoes both ways, though, I think.â
He doesn't look at her. âWhat?â
âThis⊠how much you hate me⊠how I had to kidnap you, and put that thing on your neck to keep you here, how you wish you were anywhere but here with me⊠you know, I, I get it.â
He has to stop at the landing and lean over, resting his forehead against the wall.Â
She lays a hand on his back, leaning over to speak right against his ear. âI get that your hate is all the love Iâm going to get, too, Jax. Nobody else will ever love me, either.âÂ
Her throat feels tight, and she canât tell if she really feels the twisting nerves in her stomach, the sense of dread, or if itâs part of her act for Jax. Sometimes even Savvie isnât sure when she means the things she says. Sometimes, even worse, she really does.
âAll weâre ever going to have is each other.â
He doesnât answer her. But when she takes his arm in her hand, he allows himself to be dragged along towards her bedroom. The fight might be gone, but so is the feeling. Thereâs nothing in his eyes that shows he even heard her.
Thatâs okay. She can be honest, in the dark, in the middle of the night, knowing that heâs too drugged to remember anything she said when he wakes up again. Sheâll lie to herself again by morning. So will he.
She just needs him to lie.Â
-
@whumpyourdamnpears consider this my evil savvie gift to you
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He has them spiritually
AU where he trains Brayden's dogs...
Savvie needs more than a bite to the mouth. Permission to sharpen Jaxâs teeth, please
@comfy-whumpee we have someone here requesting Jax with Fangs
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GOD i just love whumpees kept against their will in luxury
King sized beds with fluffy blankets, fine wines and gourmet dinners, expensive clothes and jewelry, constant affection 24/7...
Only to be met with a whumpee who spits and fights back at every turn, demanding release. A whumpee who'd rather be out on the streets and free than to live as a pet in some creep's mansion.
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so in short
-> Glaze your art if you have the access to Glaze. the computing power for it is insane, it sucks, I know. cook dinner while your art glazes or go on a walk.
-> if you have the power necessary to use Nightshade, use it too.
-> data sharing has to be turned off individually for every blog. go do that
-> if you are on desktop, go to Account and choose a blog. on the right side menu, select Blog Settings. the setting is at the bottom under Visibility. I recommend turning it on even if you do not trust that your data will not be used for training AI models
-> please do this even if you are not an artist/don't post your own images! the wording wasn't clear on whether reblogged posts will be included in scraping, and given the other info coming out, it is likely that it might be
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Northlight and all their lovers
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Toxic take: youâve never written a whumper who wasnât hot and Iâm convinced you never will đ
- nell
I've been told this before but I don't see anyone thirsting for Pike đ
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She does neither but she does creak in the wind
I have a disorder that makes me want to headcanon every nonhuman character with the ability to purr regardless if it makes sense for their kind or not. It's called being right. With enough research i could justify a tree purring if i wanted to
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New ask game: send in your toxic takes on my work. Lay it on me I can take it đ±
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Whumper who's a motivational speaker or something and lectures a defiant Whumpee on "growth mindset"
Bonus points: After tying Whumpee to the wall, Whumper tacks this to the wall opposite of them
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People of color in the whump community, how do you feel about POC characters?
(I know some people take issue with the term "person of color", I'm using it for convenience here, but this poll applies to anyone who considers themself nonwhite. Feel free to add specifics about your identity in the tags.)
(If you're white, scroll down for the results button and please reblog for sample size.)
I'm curious about how people view nonwhite characters in whump. On one hand, diversity is a good thing. On the other hand, violence against a character of color could trigger people, and a character of color as the whumper could play into racial stereotypes. This also depends on the specific race of the characters-- obviously, POC are not a monolith-- but there aren't enough poll options for that.
I'd really appreciate hearing people's thoughts, especially people of color in the whump community! Please reblog this to spread it around!
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My off topic post escaped containment again, and not ONE person has tagged it with "op is a weird kink blog" this time. good job tumblr you're learning.
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Bastian had scarcely been able to believe his eyes when he finally discovered Mariano. He'd been missing for a week, and they way he dangled from both wrists with his chin to his chest made Bastian almost question the pact he still felt from him. It felt too good to be true.
Bastian ripped one manacle's chain, though, heart hammering in his chest as he caught Mariano before he could fall forward. One hand raised up to cup his face, bringing his slack expression into the light. "Hey, Mariano, can you hear me?" Bastian asked. "I'm gonna get you free."
Slowly, Mariano turned his face into Bastian's palm, glasses going crooked from the motion. He groaned, barely able to open one eye. It took a few tries for his hoarse, ragged voice to scrape past the silence.
"Bast...ian...?"
I've been working on this thing for a few months, just picking away at it when I could, so it's SO nice to have it finished c:<
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Big fan of sun motifs in characters not necessarily being about positivity and happiness and how they're so " bright and warm" but instead being about fucking brutal they are.
Radiant. A FORCE of nature that will turn you to ash. That warmth that burns so hot it feels like ice. Piercing yellow and red and white. A character being a Sun because you cannot challenge a Sun without burning alive or taking everything down with them if victorious.
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