#2023 year of whump january | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

Text

Not So Invincible After All

Whumpuary 2023: Prompt 3. Shot

2023 Year of Whump: Jan 1. Whispered Reassurances

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, f!reader, Superman/Lois Lane's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Tired of living in your father's shadow, you move to Gotham where you meet Jason Todd. As the two of you become an unstoppable team (in love and crimefighting), everything seems perfect. Until something goes wrong…

Word Count: 3417

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Gun Shot, Blood, Loss of powers, Pain, Ambiguous Ending, Language

Notes: Thank you to @icarusthefoolish for this request!

Moving to Gotham City is not a hard decision to make. You need to get out of your father’s shadow in Metropolis and the heroes of Gotham could use some extra help after Bruce’s death and Dick taking over the mantle as Batman. So, it seems like the perfect spot for you to start your solo career as a superhero. However, it is only right to get permission from those already protecting the city first.

To your utter embarrassment, your father sets up the meeting for you and insists on coming. Though you are an adult, he still treats you like a child. But, as much as you try to argue against it, once your mother steps in and says he is going, all arguments are over. Not even you argued with Lois Lane when she took that tone.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside Wayne Manor with your arms crossed over the S emblem on your chest, staring down the remaining members of the Batfamily. You had known Bruce extremely well, you had never met any of his wards before, though you knew who they all were.

Damien seems unimpressed by you and quickly turns his attention to other things after his introduction. Tim is the complete opposite, practically bouncing up and down as he shakes your hand and tries to ask you a million questions. Luckily, Dick gently pushes him to the side, reminding him there will be time for that later. The new Batman is so different from Bruce and yet you can still see flashes of his late guardian in the way he holds himself and addresses the situation at hand. Which just left Jason. The formerly dead vigilante didn’t say anything while you were introduced, but his eyes never leave your face the entire time your dad is explaining the situation. There is a playful twinkle in his eyes that you can’t quite understand, but you push it to the back of your mind as your dad finishes up and lifts up into the sky, drifting back a few dozen feet to give you some space for once.

Your eyes quickly flicker across each of the heroes in front of you and you clear your throat. “So, basically what Dad said. I want to leave Metropolis, you guys seem to need an extra set of hands around here– it seems like a win-win.”

For the first time, Damien speaks up. “Who says we need ‘extra hands’? We are protecting the city just fine without assistance.”

You lock eyes with the young Robin, completely unfazed by the death stare he is giving you. “Listen, kid. You guys are doing fine, but don’t think you are living up to The Bat’s legacy, at least not yet. I might not be living in Gotham at the moment, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping an eye on things. Dick is doing an admirable job of being Batman, but it’s pretty obvious he’s just one of the birds playing dress up. And I’m not the only one who's noticed. The criminals in this city are getting bolder and sooner or later, one of them is going to do something the four of you can’t handle. So, if you don’t want my help, that’s fine. There are a million other cities I can move to. But then don’t come crying to me when you get your asses handed to you and you need someone to save you, because I might not be interested anymore.”

Damien continues to stare you down for a moment, then slowly nods, breaking eye contact. And with that, you know you have earned the respect of the one person who you really needed to win over tonight.

Elbowing Tim in the ribs, Jason grins as he mutters, “Wow. I never expected to hear something like that coming from the boy scout’s daughter.”

One side of your mouth quirks up in a sly smile as your superhearing picks up on what he said. Turning your gaze so you are staring directly into his eyes, you say, “Then you’ve never met my mother. I might get my powers from my father, but I get my spirit and my wicked tongue from her.”

You can see the gears working in Jason’s head as the response forms. The way his heartbeat speeds up slightly, the slight dilation of his pupils, how his jaw tightens as he forces himself not to make the witty comment he desperately wants to but can’t with your father still hovering feet away. And that makes the smile on your lips widen.

The rest of the meeting runs smoothly. It is agreed that you can stay in Gotham and help protect its people as long as you don’t get in the Batfamily’s way. However, they do extend an invitation to team up with them whenever you want. You doubt it will happen, but it is nice to know that option is there.

You say goodbye to your dad and watch as he flies away. Once he is out of sight of even your advanced vision, you pivot sharply and strut straight up to Jason.

He seems slightly startled by your brash confrontation, but he stands his ground. As you reach him, you lean over until your lips lightly brush the curve of his ear, and you whisper, “Maybe if you play your cards right, I can show you how wicked this tongue can get.”

With your powers, you can sense the multitude of physical reactions your words send through his body and you chuckle as you pat his cheek before flying off into the night.

As it turns out, Jason played his cards very right seeing as you end up waking up in his bed less than a week later. And you haven’t left since. Now, after almost five months of living in Gotham, you and Jason have become the ultimate team, in and out of your costumes. Despite both of your tempers, sarcastic natures, and constant desire to push back against the ideals of your fathers, the two of you balance each other out in some strange way.

And Jason is never intimidated by your powers or your nigh invulnerability. In fact, he is nothing but supportive of them. In fights, you quickly find a rhythm where you go after the strongest opponent while Jason covers you or takes out the weaker opponents. It’s a system that never seems to fail, and the two of you seem unstoppable.

Until one night….

Jason is chasing two men through the streets. They just robbed Gotham National Bank but for some reason, ditched the bags of money fairly quickly as they tried to lose Jason. But he just let you gather up the forfeited money and fly it back to the bank while he continued his chase.

By the time you return and spot him, he has chased the men onto the roof of a building. Just as the men realize they are trapped and this will be a fight, you land next to Jason with a grin.

“Hello, boys. What seems to be the trouble here?”

The men exchange angry glances and one of them hisses loudly to the other, “What do we do? We wanted Superman, not Superbitch.”

“Hey! Watch your fucking mouth!” Jason growls, taking a step closer, but you place a hand on his chest, halting him.

“Well, you shitheads are in the wrong city then. Superman doesn’t come here. This is my turf. So, does that mean you want to just give up now, or are we going to have a little fun tonight?” The men exchange glances then pull out their guns. You nod. “Okay, then. Fun it is.”

Before they can react, you have crossed the distance between you and grab one of the men by his jacket and soar up into the air. The man immediately drops his gun as he frantically clutches at your arms, trying to hold on as tightly as he can. But it makes little difference. With a cheeky grin, you release your grip. The man only has a fraction of a second to realize what is about to happen before he plummets towards the ground.

You continue to hover in the air as you watch him fall farther and farther, his screams of terror slowly growing fainter. Finally, when he is just a few dozen feet from the ground, you sigh and soar downward. You reach him just before he hits the ground, wrapping your arms around his chest and holding him about a foot in the air.

He continues to scream even once you set him back on the sidewalk, his legs giving out from under him as he collapses in a heap. Bending over to peer down at him, you ask, “Now, are you going to be a good boy and stay put until the cops show up, or do we have to try that again?”

He pales at the very thought and clutches your leg. “N-n-no! Please! N-not again!”

Patting his head, you say, “Good boy. Now, let’s see if your friend is as agreeable.” And you launch yourself back into the air towards the top of the building.

When you reach the roof, you see Jason has dealt with the other man who is lying face down on the far side of the building. Jason looks up as you land and even through his helmet, you can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “Did you catch this one in time?”

“One time! I missed one time! And I still stopped him before he was permanently injured. Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Nope.” He starts to cross the roof to you.

But just then, you both hear a sound behind him, and turn to look. The man Jason had knocked down has climbed back to his feet, and before Jason can react, the man raises his gun and fires three shots straight at his chest.

“Nice try,” you smirk as you streak forward at superspeed, stopping just in front of Jason as the bullets soar toward him.

However, the smirk drops from your face as the bullets don’t bounce harmlessly off you as expected. Instead, they drive deep into your chest, just above your heart. The force of the impact causes you to stumble backward into Jason, who flinches slightly in surprise at your sudden appearance and collision with him.

Instantly, it feels like all of your strength is being sapped from your body and you collapse heavily against Jason’s chest. Luckily, he has a firm grip on your waist and keeps you from falling completely. Drawing you in, he lowers both of you to the ground and allows you to lean against him with your legs out in front of you.

Neither of you saw where the gunman disappeared after you collapsed, but at the moment, it is the least of your concerns. Glancing down, you can see three distinct holes in your suit, each one gushing blood. Normally, that should be the most worrisome part of the problem. However, your breath catches in your throat as you notice the faint green sheen mixed with your blood.

But Jason hasn’t realized that yet. Ripping off his helmet to get a better look at your wound, he asks, “What’s going on? How did this happen?”

“I think– I think they were made for my father. Kryptonite bullets.”

The realization of what this means slowly passes over Jason’s face. “That’s why they didn’t just bounce off you. You have Kryptonite buried in your chest?”

“Not just there. It’s some sort of poison bullet that’s releasing it into my system. I can feel it like acid in my veins. Spreading throughout my body.” You cry out as a fresh wave of pain hits you. “God! It hurts so much.”

“I’m calling Supes. Maybe he can–”

“No, Jay, don’t you get it? Even just being near me right now will weaken him. And those guys could still be around waiting for that. I can’t d–do that to him.” You shudder again at the pain and Jason uses his hands to cover your wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers softly into your ear. But you can clearly tell that he doesn’t fully believe the words he is saying.

Jason helps you shift slightly against his chest, trying to make you as comfortable as possible. Looking down, you can see blood still spilling from between his fingers, the crimson puddle tinted with a faint green glow as it grows beneath you.

“What can I do? There has to be something I can do,” Jason pleads.

“I don’t think there is.” Suddenly, you realize everything seems different, muted. You can no longer see or hear anything clearly beyond this rooftop. Your body feels weaker than it has ever felt before, and not just from the pain or your injury. And when you put all the concentration you can muster into lifting yourself even half an inch off the ground, you can’t even manage to make yourself twitch. Everything that made you special, everything you had inherited from your father is just… gone.

Leaning your head back against Jason’s neck, you ask, “Is this…. Is this what it feels like?”

“What does what feel like, baby?” he asks, stroking your hair gently.

“To be human?”

The question catches Jason off guard. “Um, I–I don’t know. I guess so.”

“I don’t think I like it very much.” Another shiver of pain washes over you and you bury your face in Jason’s neck, hoping to muffle the moan that rumbles in your throat.

But Jason still hears it. “That’s it. I’m calling your dad.”

“No,” you mutter weakly. “I told you–”

“We don’t have a choice. I don’t know enough about Kryptonite or Kryptonian anatomy to help you, but he does. Don’t you think he would want to help you even if it meant feeling the effects of the Kryptonite?”

You are silent for a moment, but you know that he is right. Your dad would have wanted to be here the second you were hurt, regardless of the danger it might put him in. So, reluctantly, you nod.

Jason removes his hand from your chest – it hadn’t been doing much to stop the blood flow anyway – and he pulls a phone from his pocket. You allow your eyes to drift closed as you listen to him quickly explain what happened and just moments later, there is a loud thud on the other side of the roof.

Peeling your eyes open, you see the familiar red-and-blue suit reflecting in the dim light. Your dad takes a step forward into the light and you can see the concern and fear etched onto his face as he stares at you, his eyes watery and his breathing uneven. He starts to walk towards you, but he stumbles slightly as the first effects of the Kryptonite hit him.

He tries to take another step, but you mumble, “Please. Don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt too.” Your words are just barely more than a whisper but even across the distance, you know he hears you clear as day. The reluctance is evident on his face, yet he follows your wishes and remains where he is at.

Jason stares at the Man of Steel, the desperation in his voice as he asks, “What do we do? How do we help her?”

“I-I don’t know,” your dad admits, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “If there is Kryptonite all through her body like you said, I don’t know how we get it out. Normally, Kryptonite by itself isn’t lethal, but no Kryptonian has been exposed this intimately to this amount. And from what I can see, she’s fading fast.”

“But she’s not just Kryptonian….” Jason whispers, as he gazes down at you. Then his head snaps up, and in a stronger voice says, “Clark, she’s just as human as she is Kryptonian. I don’t think it’s actually the Kryptonite in her veins that’s killing her. It’s the bullets. The Kryptonite just made her lose her healing abilities. So, if we just treat this like any old bullet wound, I think she might be okay.”

Your dad considers for a moment before nodding. “It’s possible, and let’s pray it’s true because it’s her only hope. We need to get those bullets out and then get her to a hospital as quickly as possible.”

Jason nods. “Okay. How do we do that?”

“We get help from the quickest person we know.” He pulls out a device and speaks into it. After only a few words, the rooftop shakes slightly as a gust of wind roars past and when you blink, you see Barry standing there with his usual grin on his face.

“You called?” But the smile slips as he takes in the scene before him. “Oh my god! What happened? Is she alright?”

“No, but we’re hoping you could help with that,” your dad explains. “She was shot three times with Kryptonite bullets, and we need to get them out of her. I can’t do it, but can you?”

Barry nodded. “I think so.” Crossing the rooftop, he kneels down beside you. Even in his bright red suit, you are having trouble focusing on him as your vision begins to blur. But you feel the light pressure as Barry places his hand on your arm. “Hey, Kid.”

“Hey, Skidmark,” you mumble weakly.

Barry chuckles. “I’ll let that slide this time since you’re hurt.” His face turns serious as he adds, “And because what’s about to happen isn’t going to feel great.”

Turning towards Jason, he says, “I need you to hold her as still as possible in case she squirms. It might take me a minute to locate all three bullets and the more she moves, the longer I’ll have to keep searching.” Jason nods and his grip on your shoulders tightens.

Barry positions his fingers just above your wound but hesitates as he glances at your face. You nod slightly and he turns his focus back to your chest. His hand begins to move so quickly, it becomes nothing more than a blur. Then, he moves it lower, phasing it through your chest.

Instantly, you seize up. The intense vibrations reverberate through your entire body, but the proximity of his fingers to your heart and lungs causes them to freeze. Your eyes roll back in your head as you silently gasp for air. Jason is trying to hold you down but it is difficult when your entire body is spasming violently. You vaguely hear Barry, your dad, and Jason yelling at each other, but you can’t make out a single word they are saying.

Then, mercifully, the vibrations are gone. All your muscles relax and your head falls limply against Jason’s shoulder as you try to catch your breath. Jason rubs his hand over your hair as he whispers that it’s over and how good you did. You aren’t really sure you did anything, but you are too weak and light-headed to correct him.

From the other side of the roof, your dad calls out, “Barry, get her to the med bay on the Watchtower. They should be able to treat her there. Then, destroy those bullets.”

Barry nods before holding out his arms and Jason helps to ease your broken form into them. However, just as Barry is about to take off, you feebly stretch your fingers towards Jason. He takes your hand and squeezes it tightly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You swallow heavily and force the words to spill from your lips. “I need you to know… if I had known what those bullets were… I still would have taken them for you…No regrets…”

Your hand goes limp in his grasp as the last of your energy is depleted. Leaning forward, Jason gently places your hand on your chest before kissing your forehead. Then, with his lips still hovering just above your skin, he whispers, “I love you. No regrets.”

Stepping back, he nods at Barry. The speedster tightens his hold on you and says, “Hold on.” Then he takes off.

As you feel that familiar initial whoosh of moving at super speed, you finally allow yourself to succumb to the darkness.

Taglist: @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @zebralover, @lolzghost, @thefictionalcharacterssimp, @venomsvl, @sugarysweetsandpainfulteeth, @your-friendly-neighborhood-al, @hellfire-fan-club, @blue-aconite

149 notes · View notes

whumpforthewin · 11 months

Text

2023 Year of Whump - Restrained with Belts

Ah… I meant to have this out much sooner… whoops. I’m still going with the Year of Whump Prompts but imma jump around. Thank you for your patience.

“Wake up little one.”

Liam jolted awake nearly falling out of his chair in the process. He took a moment to frantically look around. He was a large dining room, there was food in front of him, and Sylas just off to his side.

“Good, you had been out for a while, wouldn’t want you to sleep through breakfast,” Sylas said. His voice was deep, soothing. If he wasn’t lying Liam would assume it was to keep his prey calm before he killed them.

Liam shied away from that thought. He couldn’t, he didn’t want to think about that right then.

The next thing he realized was that he was tied to the chair and wouldn’t have actually fallen out of it. The chair solid. He couldn’t tell if it was bolted to the floor or not but it would take serious effort to move it. Effort he wouldn’t be able to muster.

There were leather straps with belt buckles on the arms encircling wrists and he could feel similar on his ankles.

“Breakfast?” It didn’t feel like he had been sleeping that long. Although sleeping in a cage wasn’t all that pleasant so it wasn’t a surprise he didn’t feel rested.

“Oh course, you need to eat so that I can eat,” Sylas flashed a smile at him, Liam refused to believe he saw fangs. Sylas was just a Crazy coworker that kidnapped him.

“How, how can I eat with these on?” Liam asked tugging and rattling the binds. Half to make a point and half to test their strength. And there was no way he was breaking those straps.

“Not to worry.” And Sylas picked up the fork and stabbed a home fry. The thicker hashbrown did smell good and Liam’s stomach decided to rumble at that time. But he kept his mouth closed.

“Now don’t be like that, little one. I don’t want to hurt you. Which means you need to eat.” He offered the potato again.

Liam turned his face away and gasped at the sudden pain in his neck.

“Ah, you’re feeling it this morning. I told you I drank from you last night, before you had awoken.” He reached for Liam’s neck and Liam cringed but all Sylas did was brush his fingers over Liam’s throat. “I wanted to see the wound so I didn’t heal this one like I had been. So you’ll be sore. But not to worry, you’ll get used to the feeling.”

“I don’t want to, just, please, I won’t go to the police, just let me go. You’ll, I‘lol just leave you alone, please,” Liam begged. He had never had a stalker before. But he couldn’t imagine getting away from them was a smart thing if they wanted to be close to the person.

And he realized he was right when Sylas’s lips tilted into a small frown. Then he sighed. “I had hoped you wouldn’t resort to this. But it seems you need some time. That’s okay. I’m a patient man.” He set the fork down and pushed the food back.

Then he walked behind the chair and Liam only had a moment before he was dragging the chair back. He yelped and jerked to look at him. He wasn’t even straining with the heavy chair.

“I’m going to keep you in here,” he said pushing open a door to a dark room. “I’m nearly done with your room. Hopefully I’ll be able to move you into it tonight or tomorrow. Perhaps some isolation will do you some good.” He dragged Liam in the small room.

Liam jerked and tugged on the restraints. “Wait, no, Sam, Sylas, we can talk about this. Please, let’s just—“

“Good day, little one.”

The door clicked shut plunging Liam into darkness.

#whump #2023 year of whump #2023 year of whump january #restrained #tied to a chair #leather restraints #begging #vampire whumper #human whumpee #oc #whump story #threats #isolation #whoomp for the win #whump community #whumpblr

27 notes · View notes

a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 year

Text

Not So Invincible After All

Whumpuary 2023: Prompt 3. Shot

2023 Year of Whump: Jan 1. Whispered Reassurances

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, f!reader, Superman/Lois Lane's Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 3417

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Gun Shot, Blood, Loss of powers, Pain, Ambiguous Ending, Language

Notes: Thank you to @icarusthefoolish for this request!

For the first time, Damien speaks up. “Who says we need ‘extra hands’? We are protecting the city just fine without assistance.”

Elbowing Tim in the ribs, Jason grins as he mutters, “Wow. I never expected to hear something like that coming from the boy scout’s daughter.”

You say goodbye to your dad and watch as he flies away. Once he is out of sight of even your advanced vision, you pivot sharply and strut straight up to Jason.

With your powers, you can sense the multitude of physical reactions your words send through his body and you chuckle as you pat his cheek before flying off into the night.

Until one night….

By the time you return and spot him, he has chased the men onto the roof of a building. Just as the men realize they are trapped and this will be a fight, you land next to Jason with a grin.

“Hello, boys. What seems to be the trouble here?”

The men exchange angry glances and one of them hisses loudly to the other, “What do we do? We wanted Superman, not Superbitch.”

“Hey! Watch your fucking mouth!” Jason growls, taking a step closer, but you place a hand on his chest, halting him.

He pales at the very thought and clutches your leg. “N-n-no! Please! N-not again!”

Patting his head, you say, “Good boy. Now, let’s see if your friend is as agreeable.” And you launch yourself back into the air towards the top of the building.

“One time! I missed one time! And I still stopped him before he was permanently injured. Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Nope.” He starts to cross the roof to you.

“Nice try,” you smirk as you streak forward at superspeed, stopping just in front of Jason as the bullets soar toward him.

But Jason hasn’t realized that yet. Ripping off his helmet to get a better look at your wound, he asks, “What’s going on? How did this happen?”

“I think– I think they were made for my father. Kryptonite bullets.”

The realization of what this means slowly passes over Jason’s face. “That’s why they didn’t just bounce off you. You have Kryptonite buried in your chest?”

“I’m calling Supes. Maybe he can–”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers softly into your ear. But you can clearly tell that he doesn’t fully believe the words he is saying.

“What can I do? There has to be something I can do,” Jason pleads.

Leaning your head back against Jason’s neck, you ask, “Is this…. Is this what it feels like?”

“What does what feel like, baby?” he asks, stroking your hair gently.

“To be human?”

The question catches Jason off guard. “Um, I–I don’t know. I guess so.”

“I don’t think I like it very much.” Another shiver of pain washes over you and you bury your face in Jason’s neck, hoping to muffle the moan that rumbles in your throat.

But Jason still hears it. “That’s it. I’m calling your dad.”

“No,” you mutter weakly. “I told you–”

You are silent for a moment, but you know that he is right. Your dad would have wanted to be here the second you were hurt, regardless of the danger it might put him in. So, reluctantly, you nod.

Jason stares at the Man of Steel, the desperation in his voice as he asks, “What do we do? How do we help her?”

Jason nods. “Okay. How do we do that?”

“You called?” But the smile slips as he takes in the scene before him. “Oh my god! What happened? Is she alright?”

“No, but we’re hoping you could help with that,” your dad explains. “She was shot three times with Kryptonite bullets, and we need to get them out of her. I can’t do it, but can you?”

“Hey, Skidmark,” you mumble weakly.

Barry chuckles. “I’ll let that slide this time since you’re hurt.” His face turns serious as he adds, “And because what’s about to happen isn’t going to feel great.”

From the other side of the roof, your dad calls out, “Barry, get her to the med bay on the Watchtower. They should be able to treat her there. Then, destroy those bullets.”

You swallow heavily and force the words to spill from your lips. “I need you to know… if I had known what those bullets were… I still would have taken them for you…No regrets…”

Stepping back, he nods at Barry. The speedster tightens his hold on you and says, “Hold on.” Then he takes off.

As you feel that familiar initial whoosh of moving at super speed, you finally allow yourself to succumb to the darkness.

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @11thstreetvigilante, @merlehs,@mayhem24-7forever, @sunshineflowerchild789, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @schaarfyx, @happinessricardotapia, @wildbornsiren, @whumpuary

59 notes · View notes

iwritewhump · 1 year

Text

Experimental Injection

2023 year of whump

381 words

characters: hero, villain, sidekick

warnings: syringe, kidnapping, being injected

masterpost

Hero’s arm reaches out toward Villain, fist clenched. He lands the blow and Villain folds over, arms wrapping around his gut. Hero pulls back and smiles, “Sorry for the low blow. I need you still for this.”

Villain looks up, face twisted with pain as something jabs into his side. He turns quickly to see Sidekick capping a syringe. She smiles at him cruelly.

Pain races through his veins, he doubles over and nearly collapses to the ground in less than a second. “What the hell is that?”

“I’m…not quite sure, to be honest.” Hero says. He squats in front of Villain and tilts his head, “Y’see, Sidekick and I were meeting with Supervillain the other day and she gave us a load of things she’s been cooking up. Some were labeled and some…”

Villain moans in pain and curls into the fetal position. His vision turns white and he cries out.

Hero coos and cups his chin, “Poor thing. How about Sidekick and I take you back to base and wait this out with you?”

“No,” Villain manages, barely above a whisper.

“Not a question.”

Sidekick picks him up, throwing him over her shoulder with a soft grunt. She follows closely behind Hero to the car and throws Villain in the car, not reacting when he shouts in pain.

The drive seems to take forever, Villain can feel every rock in the road, his heart pounds in his chest and it feels like it’s trying to escape the torture. He presses his hand over his heart and feels it pounding, counting the beats.

When the car finally stops, Villain whimpers at the sudden stop of movement. Without being jostled around, the only thing he feels is pain.

The van doors open and Sidekick audibly rolls her eyes before grabbing Villain’s feet and pulling him closer to the end of the cab.

She throws him over her shoulder again and carries him inside before grabbing his wrists and tying them behind his back; as if he could do anything to get away. She drags him to a table and ties him to one of it’s legs.

“Alrighty!” Hero says cheerily. “As soon as that wears off, you let us know and we’ll get started testing out the rest of this stuff.”

#2023 year of whump #2023 year of whump january #whump #whump fic #experimental injection #whumpee #whumper #sidekick whumper #hero whumper #villain whumpee #kidnapped whumpee #kidnapped villain #iwritewhump #my writing

52 notes · View notes

whumpinthepot · 1 year

Text

2023 year of whump: January 22

Whump prompt: Public humiliation

—

Whumpee being strung up by rope into a stress position as a public punishment in the middle of a busy city. They were told not to let anyone help them, and was threatened badly if they did. What they were shocked to find out was the power of bystander syndrome, as people walked past them without so much as a glance of sympathy. After all, whumpee probably deserved this for what they’d done. Thats what the public was probably made to believe.

#2023 year of whump january #2023 year of whump #2023 year of whump public humiliation #whump prompt #tw stress position #tw public humiliation #tw bystander syndrome #breezy’s post #tw punishment

46 notes · View notes

misscrazyfangirl321 · 1 year

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Timeless (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston Characters: Garcia Flynn, Lucy Preston Additional Tags: Angst, Nightmares, Whump, Confusion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, caged, Character Death In Dream, Healing, Forced to Watch Series: Part 1 of Whumpuary 2023 Summary:

There's shouting all around her, but she can't make out the words, and can't bring herself to care. It's over. The war is over, and she lost everything. She crumples to the ground, letting the tears fall. Hands land on her arms, and she jerks away on instinct.

And then she wakes up.

@whumpuary

@soheavyaburden

#2023 year of whump #2023 year of whump january #whumpuary2023 #whumpuaryno1 #timeless #my fics #my writing #mine #garcy #garcia flynn #lucy preston #!!!!

19 notes · View notes

just-a-silly-little-whumper · 1 year

Text

Year of Whump: Warm Bubble Bath

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Follows after Whipping. Lord Denholm offers Elze’ith some comfort after an arduous experience.

Contains: Intimate whumper, gilded cage, dubcon nudity, aftermath of torture (whipping), magical exhaustion, manipulation, brief noncon sexual touch, vaguely referenced prior noncon

~~~

There was a bath on the second floor of Castle Tergoria, at the end of the hallway of bedrooms and next to the winding spiral staircase. Elze’ith’s muscles were too weak to support him, so Lord Denholm carried him there from the dungeons. His touch was fresh agony against the wounds left by the whip, and each step slightly jostled Elze’ith in Lord Denholm’s grip. All Elze’ith could do was groan and press his face into Lord Denholm’s shirt as he walked slowly, serenely, out of the bleak basement and into the castle proper.

The bath was already prepared, warm and inviting, when they arrived. Lord Denholm gently set Elze’ith down on the stone floor next to the spacious tub. Elze’ith sagged, leaning his weight against the smooth porcelain. Still kneeling, Lord Denholm reached towards Elze’ith’s belt. With a sharp, panicked inhale, Elze’ith instinctively tried to bat his hands away, but due to his exhaustion the movement was weak and merely bounced off Lord Denholm’s strong, muscled arms.

“Light, it’s alright,” Lord Denholm said softly. “I just want to get you cleaned up. Besides, it’s nothing that I haven’t seen before.”

Elze’ith shook his head. The motion drove a spike of pain through his forehead, and he pressed his eyes shut in a hollow effort to stave off the worst of it. “No, I— I can do it.”

“Shh. Let me help.”

Elze’ith slumped in acquiescence. His eyes remained closed as Lord Denholm’s hands returned to his belt and slipped it off, then did the same with his boots and socks. Having his eyes closed did very little to alleviate his headache from pushing his magic too far, but not having to watch as Lord Denholm disrobed him was its own comfort. Lord Denholm had to pull him off the ground ever so slightly to remove his pants and underclothes; he did so with exceeding tenderness, and once Elze’ith was bare Lord Denholm wasted no time in lifting him fully off the floor and guiding him into the warmth of the bath.

The water stung as it hit the shredded skin of Elze’ith’s back, pulling a startled hiss from Elze’ith’s lips. After a few moments the pain faded to background noise, the same as every other ache from his session in the dungeons, and Elze’ith let himself settle. There was no way he could sit back properly in the tub with his back so raw, so instead he leaned his side against the edge of the porcelain.

“There we go,” Lord Denholm murmured. There was a collection of bottles on the shelf next to the tub, and Lord Denholm pulled one down and tipped some of its contents into the water. He swirled his hand through the water, and the scent of vanilla and lavender wafted through the air as bubbles began to form. “That medicinal blend should help ease some of your pain, my light.”

Elze’ith drew his hand across the surface of the water. The bubbles parted easily for him; some popped, but several more formed in their place. The simple act was more soothing than he expected, and his eyes crinkled in contentment.

Lord Denholm pulled another bottle from the shelf. He also produced a small, wooden bucket from the corner of the room. Rolling up his sleeves, he offered the smallest smile. “There’s blood in your hair, my light. Let me wash it out.”

Elze’ith nodded. Not that he needed to; Lord Denholm was already dipping the bucket into the tub. A hand tipped Elze’ith’s forehead back, and he sighed as water cascaded over his head and through his hair. After another initial rinse, Elze’ith let his head fall back into a neutral position as Lord Denholm began pouring the liquid from the bottle into his palm.

He instinctively closed his eyes as Lord Denholm began working the soap into his hair. The movement of Lord Denholm’s fingers against his scalp was soothing in its own way. It almost let him forget the pain and horror of what led them to this point. He let himself bask in the serenity of the moment, mind drifting, as Lord Denholm gently washed the soap out of his hair, then repeated the process once, then twice.

“There. Isn’t that better?” Lord Denholm said lightly. Elze’ith didn’t have the energy to check if his hair was clean, but he had a feeling that he could trust Lord Denholm on this, so he hummed in agreement. Lord Denholm chuckled. “Now, let’s get the rest of you cleaned up.”

His eyes felt like lead, but he still forced them open. Lord Denholm was reaching for another bottle and a small cloth. The thought of protesting, of asking to do it himself, crossed his mind, and he reached a hand out towards Lord Denholm’s turned back. But in his exhausted state he couldn’t keep his arm out, and it splashed mildly back into the water. He let out a small sigh as Lord Denholm turned back towards him.

The same gentle hands that had massaged his scalp began to run the soap-covered cloth over his shoulders and arms, and Elze’ith found his mouth opening without his permission. “Why are you doing this?”

There was a beat of silence. Heat rose to Elze’ith’s cheeks. Lord Denholm, though, didn’t pause, and merely continued to move the cloth across Elze’ith’s skin.

“Because you’re precious, my light,” he said easily. “You deserve to be taken care of. You deserve to be cherished.”

The words hung in the air for a long moment. Elze’ith’s mind seemed to stall, uncomprehending. Then a sob burst out of his chest, so sudden it startled him, then another, then another. He couldn’t quite seem to get himself to stop.

Lord Denholm cupped Elze’ith’s cheek as he cried quietly. He thumbed away a tear; Elze’ith was distantly surprised he had any left. “Oh, light. What kind of life must you have lived that you don’t feel worthy of being treasured?”

All Elze’ith could do was shake his head. He had no words left.

His sobs devolved into small tremors as Lord Denholm worked the soapy cloth down his body. The soap on Elze’ith’s flayed back stung, and Elze’ith couldn’t hold back a groan of pain from escaping his lips. The water began to turn pink from blood; the bubbles were no longer quite as soothing in their new shade. Lord Denholm’s touch lingered for just a moment too long in between Elze’ith’s legs, and though his heart skipped a beat, Lord Denholm eventually moved on without making any further advances. By the time the last of the sobs and tremors fully faded from Elze’ith’s body, Lord Denholm was finishing the final rinse.

“There we go. Now, I would love to let you relax, but I can’t imagine you want to sit in that for very long. Let’s get you dried off,” Lord Denholm said. He reached into the tub and took Elze’ith by the arm, supporting all of his weight as he shakily stepped out. A wave of Lord Denholm’s hand had Elze’ith mostly dry. Lord Denholm gently draped a silken bathrobe around Elze’ith’s shoulder and wrapped a towel around his still-wet hair before sweeping him up into his arms. The contact against his wounds still hurt, but less so than before.

“I know you’re exhausted, my light. Let me take you to bed.”

In Lord Denholm’s arms, warm and placid and taken care of, Elze’ith was asleep before they were halfway back to his room.

#flicker in the dark #whump #whump writing #silly writes #2023 Year of Whump #2023 Year of Whump January #elze'ith sylrel oc #lord soren denholm oc #intimate whump #manipulation #magic

15 notes · View notes

yetanotheraltwhumpblog · 1 year

Text

posting year of whump early bc i can 💪

January 29: chained to a table / betrayal / end of a relationship / handwritten notes of encouragement / “I’m begging you; I’ll do anything”

@oddsconvert bc she is the best ever

cw for gore

“Look, I really don’t think this is working out,” Nick said as he sat across from Virgil, the lights flickering. He sighed.

“I’m sorry if this hurts, but it’s the truth.”

He cleared his throat.

“That being said, I can’t have you telling anyone about this.”

Virgil squirmed against the zip ties holding him to the chair as Nick walked past.

“I saw a play one time…a Roman one…” Virgil heard him whisper as he shuffled through a drawer. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Nick said, holding a hypothermic as he leaned over Virgil’s shoulders. “This is epinephrine,” Nick said as he leaned next to him and positioned the syringe at his forearm. He jabbed the needle into Virgil’s arm. He felt a sharp sting, as Nick went behind him.

He took a pair of pliers before turning around and dragging a chair across the warehouse floor. He put his hand on top of Virgil’s, cold against flush skin thick with blood.

He took one of Virgil’s thin fingers and held the pliers in the other.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be…”

Nick said as he placed the pliers between Virgil’s skin and nail. His breath quickened as he desperately tried to pull his hand away, scraping it against the dirty plastic. He could feel his heart rate climb.

“This hurts me more than you.”

The pliers clamped down and Virgil gasped as his nail bent inwards.

“Just breathe…” Nick said as he began to pull.

Virgil choked as the skin split and blood ran down his finger, seeping into the wood of the chair. The nail came free with a snap and dropped to the floor.

“You’ll be fine,” Nick said as he placed the pliers underneath the next one. He held the bony appendage in place as he twisted the metal sideways. Virgil screamed against the gag as he thrashed. Shock from the first nail breaking off was fading. Now it was pure pain, burning through his body and up his throat in the form of screams that penetrated the air.

“You’ll be fine,” Nick repeated as he began to pull another nail free. He could hear tearing before Nick broke it off and tossed it behind him.

“I promise you’ll be fine.”

Virgil cried out as the nail broke through the skin of his thumb and split it wide open. Warm blood began to pool under his hand. “Just a few more.” Is what Virgil could make out over the ringing in his ears.

Nick tugged on the ring nail, causing Virgil to cry as the metal hit quick. But the nail didn’t budge. Nick thought for a moment before twisting the pliers, digging the keratin into his skin. Virgil’s quiet tears turned to blubbering sobs as he gasped through the gag.

The nail was removed and fell to the ground landing in a small pool of blood. Nick positioned the pliers sideways before the last nail slid out. It was as if Virgil's hand was on fire. His fingers twitched as they slid in a puddle. He screamed into the gag, writhing as the pain sent him into convulsions. A bubbly wheeze filled the air.

“It’ll be okay,” Nick said as he placed the pliers on the table. He brought his hands to Virgil’s face and wiped away the tears before taking the gag out. Virgil sputtered before Nick leaned in to kiss him. He shut his eyes tight. Nick kept his wide open.

He pulled away and wiped his mouth, leaving a trail of red on his cheek. Nick popped the tie back in Virgil’s mouth before picking the pliers up again.

“Just one more hand,” Nick said as he pressed the tips of the hand he wasn’t using into the craters on Virgil’s.

“It’ll be okay,” Nick repeated as he cut through the skin of Virgil’s hand and pressed hard into the crevices of the other. Virgil’s throat burned as he screamed and sobbed. It went faster this time, his nails scattered across the dirty floor. Nick kissed his cheek as he stood up again, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Just one more thing and then we’re done.” He walked over to the sink to clean the tool as Virgil cried and shook in the chair.

Nick walked back over to look him in the eyes. His puffy, red eyes. He smiled.

“You’re so messy! I don't even know how to take care of you…” he said as he undid the gag. Virgil coughed and spat. As he was hacking, Nick slid his hand to Virgil’s face and held his mouth open. “You can't tell anyone about this, can you? ”

He shoved Virgil’s head against the back of the chair, forcing him to stare into the fluorescent lights.

“Bite me and I’ll cut your tongue out.”

Nick placed his knee in between Virgil’s leg as the pliers found traction on Virgil’s top canine and latched on. His eyes went wide as he began to shake. He tried desperately to roll the chair back, but it was bolted to the ground.

Virgil felt like his tooth was going to split in half even before Nick began to pull. He shrieked as the butt of the pliers hit the bottom of his mouth. The pain was immediate. The pliers pulled at his teeth, chipping bits off as they tore through the soft flesh of his mouth. He could taste the thick metallic fluid as Nick yanked again.

The tooth came out with a wet sucking sound, the blood and spit trailing the instrument. Virgil tried to scream, but his mouth was too full of blood.

“Just relax,” Nick said as he repositioned his knee on Virgil’s leg. He grabbed his hair and forced his head back. He wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him, his tongue prodding the bloody holes in Virgil’s mouth. Virgil cried into his shoulder.

Nick kissed him again, more softly this time, before letting him go. He wiped Virgil’s face, leaving blood smeared on his lips as blood dribbled down his chest.

“I changed my mind… I might keep you for a little longer…”

#2023 year of whump #2023 year of whump january #whump oc #whump #whump blog #whump community #whump scenario #virgil oc #nick oc

15 notes · View notes

cyberneticwhump · 1 year

Text

Wʜᴜᴍᴘ-4-Lᴇss (Pᴀʀᴛ 3)

Cᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ & Sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ

[Entry for “2023 Year of Whump” challenge, January 15.]

[Chosen prompt: experimental injection + “I promise this won’t hurt”]

[Content: insomnia, syringe, begging, intimate whumper, mentions of torture.]

[Summary: After his training, Natasha visits Damian in his room to make him an offer. She tells him that he has a bright future at Whump-4-Less, and he could start his first session the next day. This keeps Damian up all night, as he isn't ready yet. Before his show, Natasha gives him memory blockers to help with the flashbacks and nightmares later, and he gets ready to step on stage for the first time.]

[Word count: 1.7K]

[PREVIOUS PART]

I ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ

Twenty minutes.

It was only twenty minutes, and it left Damian broken. He felt like he couldn’t even breathe by the end, and all Natasha was doing was cutting into him and burning him, not even for a long time. She said it gets way worse in the actual sessions, but it was simply too hard for Damian to even imagine that. This was too much.

Way too much.

After dragging himself back to his room, he throws himself down on his bed, holding his arm that has been wrapped in bandages by the medical staff at the end of his training. He just can't get Natasha’s words out of his head, the way she was telling him how good he looked while he was in pain and how much the audience would love him. She said that he was a perfect candidate, and they haven’t had anyone like him in a long time. She even promised him that if he takes the torture well in his first few sessions, she will get him a raise, despite him being a newbie.

But Damian knew he wouldn’t be able to take it well. He knew it was gonna get worse, and he knew it would be too much to handle. As he was laying on his bed, he couldn’t get the memory of the cold blade cutting his skin open out of his head. He couldn’t think of anything else than the overbearing pain spreading through his body.

Just then, he heard a knock on his door, and he jolted as the sudden sound took him by surprise. He got up, wiped the tears from his face, and opened the door.

“Can I come in?” Natasha asks, and her voice sends a shiver down Damian’s spine, which the girl notices. “You know you don’t have to be afraid of me, right?”

“You’ve hurt me,” Damian says, holding onto the bandages on his arm. They still hurt, but not as much since the medical staff gave him some light painkillers after he was practically begging for it.

“I understand, but this is your job now. You signed the contract. But anyways… I came here to check on you. Seems like it was a lot worse than you thought it would be.”

“Y-yeah, it was. I… don’t think I’m ready,” when the man says this, Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder, and gently pushes him aside so she can enter the room.

“Yeah, no. I know you are not ready, but no one is. This is not something you can prepare for. So I suggest we start tomorrow. The club owner saw the footage of your training, and he was very impressed.”

“You said I wouldn’t start until next week,” Damian says quietly, trying not to let his voice quiver. “You said—”

“Well, don’t you want it to be over faster?” Natasha sits down on the bed and invites the man with her hand to do the same. “Come on, sit down. I have an offer for you.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, Damian joins her, avoiding eye contact at all costs. He is focusing on the floor under his feet, trying to get lost in the patterns on the artificial wood.

“We don’t usually do this, but you are extraordinary. I will be straight up with you right now, okay? I’ve been working at Whump-4-Less for more than five years now. I’ve tortured hundreds of people. And none of them… I repeat, none of them had what you have. Everything about you, from your facial expressions to your voice, is so… pure, so genuine. I honestly would be really sad if we couldn’t work together.”

She puts two of her fingers under Damian’s chin, making him look up at her. He doesn’t try to resist; the touch of the woman practically paralyzes him with fear. He is too afraid to move or say anything to her.

“I have an offer for you, Damian. I know it’s your first time, and it’s gonna be hard regardless, but we got our hands on memory blockers recently, and I would be willing to give you some for your first few sessions, until you get the hang of things.”

“Would I still feel it?” Damian swallows in nervousness.

“Of course you would. And it wouldn’t completely erase all your memories, either. It would help dealing with it, reducing nightmares and flashbacks that usually follow the sessions,” Natasha says in a soft, soothing voice while looking at the man’s face, trying to read what he is thinking.

“I… I need that.” His vision is starting to get blurred by tears as he can't stop himself from imagining how bad the pain will be. Just hearing how the sessions cause nightmares and flashbacks fills him with a newfound dread, and he can’t help but start trembling in his whole body.

“You will be fine. No one ever died from a little torture. Besides, I will always be here, if you need me,” she places a small card on the bed next to him, which includes her name and a scannable code, most likely containing all her contact information. “Your first session starts at 9PM tomorrow. Be backstage at around 8PM, at least. Until then, just try to rest.”

“W-wait!” Damien exclaims after the girl stands up from the bed, ready to leave the room. “Will you be the one… doing it?”

“Do you not want me to?” She asks without turning back.

“Just… can you please go easy on me…?” There is a slight quiver in his voice, no matter how much he is trying to hide it.

“Get some rest, Damian. You have a big day tomorrow.”

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

The night went by without a minute of sleep. No matter how much he tried to, Damian couldn’t stop imagining the upcoming torture, his first session on stage where he would be brutalized for the sake of entertainment. It seemed unreal, but as time passed, it felt more and more inevitable. He knew that even with the memory blockers, he would still feel every detail of the pain inflicted on his body. He would feel every cut and every burn; he would feel his body getting destroyed with no way of stopping it.

Before he could realize, it was already 7PM on the next day. He forced himself to get out of the bed so he could eat something before his session, then changed into the hoodie he had been wearing the day before, which already had some dried blood on it. It was a light beige color, so the red stains were clearly visible on the sleeves, adding an artistic touch to the otherwise boring fabric.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror; there were dark circles under his eyes due to not being able to sleep, his light brown hair was messy, and he already looked like he had been through hell.

But it was just about to begin.

When it was time, he made his way down to the backstage, where the rumbles of minimal techno were already shaking the walls. Natasha, who had been sitting on a comfortable couch, stood up the moment he entered the room and welcomed him with a warm, genuine smile.

“It’s good to see you, Damian! Are you excited for your first show?” She wrapped her arm around him, as if they were good friends. “You look like you are about to pass out. Is everything okay?”

“I just didn’t have much sleep, that’ all,” Damian lies, visibly uncomfortable by the girl’s proximity. No matter what he thought of her as a person, he couldn’t deny his attraction to her physical features, and her pushing her body against his made him almost as nervous as the approaching show.

“Well, I prepared the memory blockers for you,” Natasha says, and she pulls out a syringe from one of the pockets on her white cargo pants. It’s filled with an opaque, cyan liquid, and the thought of it entering Damian’s body fills him with anxiety. He has no idea how he will react to the drug; he’s heard that some people have severe side effects from it, and it can even cause permanent memory loss or brain damage.

“Are you… are you sure this will help?” He asks, trembling in his whole body from the dread that slowly, but surely fills every part of his mind.

“It’s supposed to. It won’t help with the pain, but it will help you block out the flashbacks later, as it will be harder to remember the events that happen while you are under the effects of the drug,” she pulls away from the man, and flicks the syringe with her finger a few times. “Now give me your arm.”

Damian is frozen in place, shaking with fear, and the girl grabs his wrist, pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie to expose the veins on his arm.

“Please, Natasha… please, I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this. I’m so scared, I… I just don’t want it to hurt… please promise me that you will go easy on me,” he begs quietly, the bass of the music almost drowning out all his words.

“Relax, Damian. It will be okay. I promise this won’t hurt.” With that, she jabs the needle into the man’s arm, who lets out a small gasp of pain as the substance is slowly pushed into his system. It fills him with a cold, calming feeling, and for a moment, he believes he can do it.

For a moment, he believes it won’t be that bad at all.

But soon after that the door opens, and the stage manager enters the room, holding a tablet with the schedule on it.

“Ten minutes,” he says, and gestures towards Damian, who is now sitting on the couch in the corner of the room. “All good?”

“I just gave him the memory blockers. He will be alright,” Natasha replies, to which the man responds with a nod before closing the door behind himself. “You will be amazing, darling.”

[Tᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ…]

[NEXT PART]

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, feel free to message/send an ask/comment!

12 notes · View notes

lurkdragonstuff · 1 year

Link

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Shadow the Hedgehog, GUN Soldiers Additional Tags: Torture, Drugs, Epistolary, Whump, A Year of Whump, Experimental Injection, Mobian equivalent of MKUltra Summary: Redacted excerpts from memos exchanged during GUN's 7950's experiments with mind-altering drugs, produced during a freedom of information claim brought against them by Shadow the Hedgehog in 8007.

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #GUN #2023 year of whump #2023 year of whump january #a year of whump #whump #fanfic #writing

12 notes · View notes

whumpforthewin · 1 year

Text

2023 Year of Whump: 1 - Caged

I am going to make this a series. Idk if I’ll do it weekly but I am going to try. Happy 2023 Whump Community!

He woke up slowly, head pounding so much he figured he had hit it when he passed out. How much did he drink last night? He hadn’t gone that hard since college.

“Ah you’re awake.”

Liam whipped his head around to the voice, which was a mistake. “What, what happened?” He groaned.

“Yes, you may be feeling some… side effects. I assure you they will ware off.”

Finally Liam got a good look at his surroundings. And the first thing he noticed didn’t make sense. He was… in a cage? Second he noticed the other person in the room.

“Sam?” Liam’s mouth felt like cotton as he tried to speak. Theo was wearing a suit, not unusual but he felt… off. He was holding himself differently.

“Actually while you’re here please, refer to me by my actual name, Sylas,” Sam, or Sylas?, said calmly. He seemed to speak differently as well. Liam hadn’t had many conversations with him but he’d had a few.

“Okay… what’s going on? This, this isn’t funny,” Liam as as sternly as he could.

“Oh, it’s not meant to be funny. You see, I saw an opportunity so I took it. Your blood has been singing for me for months. But I’ve only taken a little. Made you forget immediately after. But now, I couldn’t resist. I needed to have you.” He made his way over to the cage and Liam scooted back as much as he could. “And now I do. The cage is a precaution until I get your room finished.”

“Y-you’re talking crazy,” Liam whispered. “You, you sound crazy!”

“No, no, dear, I sound like a vampire.” And Sylas grinned, showing off his sharp canines and he eyes flashed red.

“No, no, no, no. That. Vampires aren’t real, you’re just, you’re a crazy guy that kidnapped me!” Liam started to rattle the cage until Sylas slammed his hands down on it make Liam jump.

“I can assure you we do. But I drank from you last night, so I’ll give you some time to calm yourself.” Sylas stood up and flicked off the lights.

“Wait, wait! You can’t leave me in here!” Liam shouted.

“Good night, little one.” And the door shut.

Liam started gripping the cage and rattling it. He jerked on the door. There was a padlock, he wasn’t breaking that.

He slammed his shoulder against the wall. He wasn’t sure what else to do.

All too soon he was sore and tired. He slumped against the side of the cage. He would figure it out after a short nap…

#whump #2023 year of whump #2023 year of whump January #2023 year of whump week one #caged #human whumpee #vampire whumper #oc #panicking #whump story #locked up #restrained #whoomp for the win #whump prompt #whump community #whoomp prompt

40 notes · View notes

roguelibrarian · 1 year

Text

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus Characters: Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger Additional Tags: Post-Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Past Torture Series: Part 1 of Year of Whump 2023 Summary:

Ezra helps Kanan cope with his fear as he's prepped for surgery.

Year of Whump prompt: holding hands (yes, yes, I know I'm 4 days late on this one)

#rogue writes #2023 year of whump #2023 year of whump january #star wars fic

3 notes · View notes

iwritewhump · 1 year

Text

chained to a table

2023 year of whump

1437 words

characters: kier, phoenix, lux

warnings: drugging, needle, captivity, cursing, stabbing, (implied future) violence

first | previous | next | masterpost

Kier blinks, trying to chase the sleep from his body. He strains to move, to get up and look around. Because he doesn’t remember falling asleep in the back of a van. And that’s scary.

“Cy, he’s awake.” someone says.

Someone looks at him, their face right above his, “Fucker. You said the dose would keep him under until we got everything set up.”

“Well obviously I fucked up. Just give him another dose.”

The face above him rolled its eyes and pulled away. Things move around by Kier’s head and he strains to move.

“Hey,” he says. Kier freezes. “That’s enough of that. Don’t want you to move just yet.” A needle plunges into Kier’s shoulder and everything goes fuzzy again.

Something digs into Kier’s wrists and this time, he doesn’t waste time waking up slowly. He tries to fight against whatever’s holding his arms behind his back, and for a moment, it feels like the ropes are giving.

He manages to get them undone enough to look around the room. He’s tied to the leg of a table, too heavy for him to move, and the window doesn’t show anything else outside, so it must be a high level. Or in the middle of nowhere. Kier doesn’t know which one is better.

He’s in a kitchen; there’s a fridge, oven, microwave, and cabinets. The floor is blue linoleum and the walls are yellow with white flowers painted on. If he wasn’t tied to the table, he’d think it was beautiful.

Someone walks into the room. Kier hears their heavy footsteps and instantly goes still. He slows his breathing, closes his eyes, and lets his head loll back.

He sighs and Kier can hear him coming closer. He strains his ears to gauge how close he is and as soon as he’s close enough for him to maybe hit him, he kicks out.

He jumps back and frowns, “That was close. Maybe next time.”

Kneeling in front of Kier, he tilts his head. “Do you know who I am?”

Kier rolls his eyes. Of course he knows who this is. Anyone who’s been anywhere in the past decade would. He stares at him, refusing him an answer.

“Okay, fine. You don’t want to talk. That’s fine.” He sits down and kicks his legs out in front of him, letting his mechanical wings sag behind him. “Just to be sure you do know who I am, I’ll tell you. Lux. I’m sorta this city’s guardian. And I’ve been watching you for a few months. With at least seven kills, you’ve been at the top of my list of things to deal with.

“You’re just here at least until the mayor gets re-elected. Then we’ll figure out what to do with you. I’m thinking life in prison; but who knows. It’s still a while till elections and I could have a change of heart.” Lux says.

He inhales sharply and stands up, brushing dust off of his clothes. “Well, I have some stuff to set up before that paralytic wears off fully, so if you’ll excuse me.”

Kier glares at him as he walks toward the window. He looks up and nods, then walks out of the room.

Kier sits there, the ropes digging into his wrists, until he hears more footsteps. These are lighter than Lux’s and Kier can only imagine they’re Phoenix's. Lux’s sidekick, she’s supposedly immortal, but as far as anybody knows, she’s never died.

He leans his head back, letting it rest on the table leg, and watches her walk up to the window and toss a rope over the support beam running along the ceiling.

She manages to make it over on her first try and silently celebrates before tying the ends together.

“What’s that for?” Kier asks.

She turns and tilts her head, “Cy said you weren’t talking.”

“Curiosity got the better of me,” he says.

She hums, “He’s getting the cage out from storage. Or the cell, whichever you prefer. I like cell, but he’s been calling it a cage. It’s been sitting in the basement for ages but since we finally found you, it can stop collecting dust down there.”

“Okay…why the rope though?” Kier asks. “And while you’re answering my questions: why the fuck am I in the kitchen?”

“It’s gonna hang from the ceiling. I don’t know why, maybe it’ll make it harder for you to escape.” she says, shrugging. “Anyway, I’m here to string it up and put you in it. And you’re in the kitchen because it’s the only room with easy to clean floors. And Cy gets bored when he cooks. Likes someone to talk to.”

He takes a deep breath and fights against the ropes again, grunting with effort.

“That’s not gonna work, dude. I was in boy scouts when I was a kid. Those knots aren’t budging.” she says.

He ignores her and feels his skin rip, and he bites his tongue to stop from crying out. Phoenix stands back, hands on her hips and looks up at the rope, “Good enough.”

She walks out of the room, promising to be back in a few minutes.

Kier takes a deep breath and brings his wings out, they wrap around him and for just a moment, he feels safe.

Lux stomps back into the room and laughs, “I was hoping you’d do that!” he cheers. Before Kier can pull his wings back in, Lux plunges a dagger into one. Kier shouts out. “Sorry for the extremities, but now it has to stay out, right? Since bringing them in would make it a lot worse next time?”

Kier pants, “Fuck you.”

“You wish,” Lux goads. He twists the dagger and rips it out of Kier’s wing, letting it clatter to the ground. “Hold still.” Lux’s hands fumble with the ties until they go loose. He uses the rope to tie Kier’s wings together. “Now,” Lux says, standing back to admire his work. “If you try to escape, I’ll have to find a way to keep you here, and it won’t be pleasant for either of us. I don’t know why you would try to escape though, you don’t have to do anything, just sit up in the cage and wait for the election to pass.”

Phoenix walks back in the room, rolling a huge cage in front of her. It’s maybe four feet in circumference and ten feet tall. It looks like one of the sides is the door, and there’s a bolt lock keeping it closed.

Kier watches as she pushes it upright, standing back to be sure it was facing the right way.

“All ready for you, Cy.” she says, leaning against the wall.

He nods and the metal wings flap, somehow lifting him into the air. He lands on the top of the cage and loops the rope into the ring on the top of the cage, pulling it tightly before sliding down the side of the bars.

Lux pulls Kier to his feet and growls, “Do anything stupid and I’ll snap your fucking shin. Got it?”

He pushes him in front of him to the cage and takes the lock off. He opens the door and lifts Kier inside.

He slams the cage door shut and locks the door. He pushes the cage back, sending it swinging before leaving the room.

Kier pants and slides to the floor, letting his wings fit through a gap in the bars. He glares at Phoenix as she stands in front of the cage. “What’s the plan now? Do I just fucking sit here until…until what? Huh? The election is over? Lux decides it’s too much trouble and kills me? What?”

Phoenix sighs and walks up behind him. She unties the rope holding his wings together, “I don’t know. But, if I had any clue, I wouldn't tell you.”

He bites his cheek as her hands grope at his feathers, attempting to smooth them out again.

“Good news is you can’t see the blood.” she says in mock cheerfulness. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“My wings are black,” he snaps. Phoenix huffs and walks away, muttering something about the silver fucking lining that Kier can’t quite catch. “So do I just sit here?” he asks himself. His wings wrap around him protectively and he pulls his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, doing his best to ignore the searing pain in his wing and the terror pulsing through him. He’d be fine, he always managed. Why would this be any different?

#my writing #2023 year of whump #2023 year of whump january #chained to a table #whump #whump fic #whump writing #captive whumpee #villain whumpee #hero whumper #villain whump #winged whumpee #tw drugging #tw needle #tw stabbing #ask to tag #iwritewhump

13 notes · View notes