#cw restraints

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | let’s get kinky

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, The Boy, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; graphic sexual content, kink content

♡notes; pretty much just kink lists babey

oh boy i hope this doesn’t reveal anything about me

also happy easter lol

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> Knifeplay and breathplay are a given with this one

> He likes to be in complete control

> And a hand around the throat or a blade ghosting the skin definitely help him achieve that

> He also loves both tying you up and being tied up, surprisingly

> Letting you ride him while he’s tied to the bed is just about the only way you’ll get the man to relinquish any of that control

> And even then he makes sure you know he’s still the boss- if you’re too much of a brat he’s slipping the restraints and fucking you so hard you walk funny after

> He loves marking you up, mostly through biting

> And he likes to keep the mask on- even if he’s at a point where he rarely wears it around you

> He’ll quietly degrade you if you’re into that- you have to earn praise though

> But if you praise him you may actually be able to fluster him for once

Thomas Hewitt

> Breeding kink breeding kink breeding kink you can’t convince me otherwise

> He loves pinning you down into a mating press and watching your face as he fills you

> He’s so rough and overwhelming

> He likes to lick away your tears when it’s just too much

>And sometimes he’ll keep you pinned there well after, keeping himself inside.

> He’d let you call him daddy- and god does he get into it, but he’d be too shy to suggest anything like that himself

> He loves praise and he loves letting you know how good you feel

> Not usually verbally, but he’ll growl and moan and purr shamelessly

> He’s the king of oral, he’s like a man starved and you’ll end up overstimulated 9 out of 10 times

> And he loves when you reciprocate, especially if you don’t mind him fucking your mouth

Bubba Sawyer

> He’s a bit vanilla, not having much experience or knowledge beyond sex for procreation.

> Insert Drayton’s “sex or the saw” quote here lol

> But he’ll try anything for you at least once, he’s so eager to please.

> Most notably he makes a wonderful little submissive

> Whether you want him to bottom or just power bottom yourself, he loves being used to make you feel good

> He enjoys any and all praise

> He’s rather insecure, so he loves compliments on his appearance especially

> If you call him a pretty boy he melts

> 100 percent would love if you called yourself mommy/daddy/any other dom titles

> He loves when you sit on his face more than anything else

Vincent Sinclair

> The softest dom. He wants to take care of you around the clock, but especially in bed

> He’s a service top- it’s all for you. So much more concerned with you getting off than even being touched.

> He’s into wax play (Because it’s funny but also bc it’s underrated)

> And he likes to restrain you so he can worship you completely uninterrupted

> He’s not afraid of using toys, especially when you’re all tied up and at his mercy

> He loves taking pictures of you as well

> At first he claims it’s for reference but you know better, baby has a documentation kink

> He loves just watching too

> Trying to keep control while you touch yourself and moan his name is his favorite pastime

Brahms Heelshire

> Huge brat in need of taming

> Only a switch in the technical sense- he’ll top if you beg/bribe/pester him enough. He’s just lazy tbh

> Love love loves being both degraded and praised

> “filthy little boy” “pretty little slut” etc

> Prefers calling you mommy/daddy but can work with master

> And he’ll be your puppy if you want him to be

> He wears a cute collar and leash and lets you yank on it while you make him fuck you

> He loves when you edge him too

> Until he’s nearly in tears and whining and begging you to let him cum

> If you have boobs he’s obsessed with them

> And even if you don’t he’ll give the area lots of attention

#slashers #thomas hewitt #tcm #slashers x reader #slashers x you #thomas hewitt x reader #micheal myers #bubba sawyer #micheal myers x reader #tcm 2006 #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #house of wax #halloween #cw breeding #cw voyeurism #cw smut #cw daddy kink #cw kink #the boy 2016 #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #cw restraints

[whumpprentice]

A superpowered character losing control of their powers and having to be restrained or sedated for their own safety. Is this anything  

#whump prompt #whumpblr #whump community #whump #whump prompts #cw restraints

[kai-andrew-art]

Perhaps…

#my art #hermitcraft #hermitblr #zedaph #hermitcraft season 10 #cw restraints

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 153

"What am I?" The hollow clone of whumpee inquired to whumper, analyzing themselves through the mirror.

"You are my love of course. You've simply lost your memory."

"I'm sorry that I don't remember you then.", They allowed themselves in whumper's embrace, resting their head against whumper's chest, and listening to the quickened heartbeat. Even the hum of whumper's laughter was warm and full of vibrations, buzzing against the clone's face.

The clone explained, "I want to love you.", while whumpee could do nothing but watch through the screen, still trapped in their restraints.

#whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #mini whump prompts #mini whump prompt #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #clone whump #clone whumpee #cw restraints #whump #whump ideas

[thatsprettylane]

Rowdy Yates + Whump (Part 2)

#rowdy yates #rawhide #rawhide memes #clint eastwood #cw restraints #cw blood #last meme is from guild grumps #undescribed

[officesuppliez]

dogday!! yippee!!

individual sides :]

#digital art #my art :] #poppy playtime #dogday #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime 3 #poppy playtime dogday #smiling critters #smiling critters fanart #blood cw #cw blood #tw blood #cw restraints #cw gore #tw gore #hes so silly he didnt deserve torture #he just didnt want to join a cult!! #cw scopophobia #cw eye contact #I think a little

[whump-card]

levis

art taglist: @angst-after-dark, @whumpsday, @flowersarefreetherapy, @rainydaywhump

#whump #whump art #cw restraints #my art #suggestive

[cjbee]

August 20: I am getting concerned.

August 19 August 21

#dracula daily #dracula #renfield #art #sketch #drawing #cw restraints

[2af-afterdark]

Taking Care of You

Content: Marbas x amab!mc (you/your), restraint (shibari), dry humping/frottage A/N: Banging my head against a desk editing this. Screaming at the word document. Someone be my editor so I don't have to! Word Count: 1284

Marbas’ half-lidded, virid eye stared blankly ahead as you secured the last of the many knots around his wrists, trapping them behind his back. His knees were pinned in a kneeling position against the pillow you’d instructed him to get on earlier and the rope bindings gently bit into his chest – though only slightly so as not to disturb the bandages already crisscrossing there.

“I fail to see the point of this.”

You slipped two fingers beneath the ropes to make sure they were snug but not constricting one last time before leaning over the back of his shoulder to kiss his cheek, your nipples poking against his broad back. “You’re always taking care of everyone else, so this time I’ll take care of you.”

“This isn’t how I treat patients,” he said matter of factly.

“There are different ways to take care of someone, you know. Plus,” you reached around his waist to lay your hand against the bulge forming in his shorts – the only thing you’d allowed him to keep wearing, “you seem to be enjoying it already.”

He closed his eyes and sighed silently. “It's a natural reaction to external stimuli.”

“Or,” you leaned in close, dropping your voice down low and whispering directly into his ear, “you just like being tied up and you're enjoying this moment.”

You gave a quick squeeze to his clothed cock and watched with delight as his lips pursed. He flexed his fingers and the muscles in his arms hardened enough that you thought the ropes holding him might snap, but they stayed in place. 

“Or maybe that doesn't matter since you're so turned on by me.” You laughed at your own comment, expecting him to immediately refute it yet again with his calm and rational realism, but instead he twitched under your grasp.

When you looked down to confirm that you hadn't imagined his reaction, you noticed that a small spot had begun to darken his shorts. His cock, always thick and visible in the outline of his pants, was straining violently against his shorts, fighting to burst free.

“Are you?” You asked with more excitement than you intended before catching yourself and clearing your throat to refocus the atmosphere you had been trying to set.

You released his hard cock and stood to walk around to his front. There, you slung your legs over his, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and pressed yourself against his barely hidden erection. You leaned your forehead against his. 

Speaking low and quiet this time, you asked, “Can I take care of you? Just this once?”

“I'm in no position to stop you.” He tried to pull his wrists apart to demonstrate his inability to move from the pose he was currently wrapped in.

“Good.” You pressed a small kiss against the corner of his mouth.

Slowly, you began to rock your hips forward and back against him, rubbing yourself against his cock through both of your clothes. He was large between your legs; a beast that demanded your attention and focus to ensure you satisfied all of him without losing yourself. Rubbing your dick against his was like fighting against an opponent with a clear advantage. Even though you were the one with freedom, it felt as if he could rend back control at any moment if he only wanted it.

Marbas’ eye shut and small, uneven panting made his chest fall and rise. A small stream of liquid dripped from his horns. Aside from that, he was the picture perfect example of a cool and collected man.

“Marbas,” you muttered his name with shaky breaths as you grew hard against him. You placed your hands on either side of his face. “Look at me.”

He opened his one good eye, pupil painted white as it stared directly at you and cheeks dusted rose from blood beneath his pale skin.

Your knees buckled as you stuttered against him, erections haphazardly brushing against one another as you continued to rock back and forth. As soon as you found the proper rhythm to make him grunt beneath his breath, you latched your mouth onto the side of his neck. The vein under your teeth pulsed as you bit down.

As you switched to licking at the same spot, feeling his heartbeat against your tongue, you pressed your hands against his chest. The ropes ran circles down the center of his abdomen, branching out to loop around his back, but leaving most of him exposed. You trailed your fingers along the ropes just under his pectorals, following their curve back and forth at a slower pace than your hips rolled against him. When you found a comfortable spot to let them rest, you stopped your hands and brushed your thumbs across his nipples instead. They were as hard as his cock.

You rested your head against his shoulder at the perfect angle to watch both as you teased and bullied his chest and the stain that had grown larger in his shorts. “How do you feel?”

He was still mostly calm, but you could tell that he was breathing harder than before. “I believe I'm doing well.”

“Only well?”

“I would prefer to see to you.” His eye trailed downward and you could tell that he was staring at your own erection.

You chuckled then pinched his nipples. “After you.”

“Only after me?”

“Mhm.”

Or so you teased, but the friction of rubbing both of your dicks together was too sweet to endure. The massive beast you had thought to control had somehow flipped the script despite your position on top. Marbas was dominating you with only his presence and the pleasure of feeling your body against his.

“I understand.”

He closed his eye and seemed to focus on the way you touched him; your dick against his, the confines of his shorts only increasing the pressure against his cock, your fingers playing with his nipples, your heavy panting in his ear, the ropes straining against his bulging muscles as he fought not to try and grab you; he focused on all of it.

He was so quiet, grunted so softly, that you almost missed when he finally came. The only reason you noticed was the pushing forward of his hips and the sudden warmth in his shorts beneath you.

“Really?” You stared down between his legs as you spoke. 

He opened his eye, looking at you innocently – not naively, simply in a way where he understood he did nothing wrong, “You told me that I had to finish first before I touched you.”

“I did.” And you couldn't argue against that, even if it made you pout that he was so calm about it. “Let me untie you.”

“There's no need.”

You could hear the distinct sound of something tearing before he brought his arms forward and rubbed at the markings on his wrists to soothe them. The ropes went slack across his body, a mess of directionless chords and broken loops.

You stared wide eyed at the scene. “Could you do that the whole time?”

“If I felt like it.”

He said nothing more on the topic as he leaned forward with his now free legs. The sudden movement put you off balance and sent you toppling backwards until he was hovering over you, with your legs still wrapped around him.

One of his large hands pressed down against your chest, silently telling you to stay in place as he began to venture lower until he reached your erection. Then, he wrapped his hand around it and began to slowly pump your length.

“Now, I believe I should take care of you as well.”

#2af writes #what in hell is bad #whb marbas #amab fic #cw restraints #cw shibari

[binahs-sinbin]

Cw: edging, small humiliation kink, threats of ruined gratification, bondage technically (Idia gets a boner over a threat)

.

Idia being bratty about always forgetting to charge his toys, so you decide teach him the importance of charging his toys by tying him up and putting a vibrating ring on his cock, putting it on low.

He’s in heaven until right as he’s about to cum, it stops, leaving him right on edge. Idia whines before crying out and begging you to turn it back on, except, you didn’t turn it off. You tell him that he’s not getting anything else, and to make sure he doesn’t take care of it himself, you keep him tied up until he’s soft (which takes nearly an hour since he kept getting excited when you looked at his cock) then you take the toy off his limp cock and clean it. During this you let Idia remain tied up.

You only untied him after everything was already cleaned up and put away. As much as Idia hates to admit….it was an effective punishment. He’s too tired to get to that point again and as much as he wants to jerk it quickly, his cock is already flaccid and done. It would be humiliating if he tried to save what little pleasure he could get from a quickie.

You hand him back his toy, telling him he better charge it or you won’t edge him, but will ruin him.

Idia is humiliated that your threat woke his aching cock up. It visibly flexed towards his stomach, at full mass as it uselessly bobbed. You shot him a sneer upon noticing the pre leaking from the fat head of his cock.

.

#ramblings #twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twst idia #idia x reader #idia x mc #idia shroud x reader #nsft #my post #cw edging #dom reader #sub idia #sub Idia shroud #ficlet #cw restraints

[unrestrained-balderdash-art-blog]

Really proud of the inks for my WIP, think I'll be posting inks separately if they're good enough to stand on their own

(Edit: finished version here)

#the riddler #edward nigma #edward nygma #riddler fanart #riddler #dc riddler #the riddler fanart #dc #dcu #dc fanart #riddler in a straitjacket #arkham asylum #fanart #artists on tumblr #tw restraints #cw restraints #angst warning #fave art

[whumpbump]

Cw: manhandling and restraining, describing the death of Whumpee’s mother, gun mention

Whumpee had been rescued and was recovering in a hospital. They had no assigned Caretakers yet and were in the hands of the hospital staff.

Because they had no assigned Caregivers, Whumpee was essentially ignored aside from bandage changes and other medical needs like bathing. Even while eating, the staff left Whumpee alone.

With no one to talk to or engage with, Whumpee began to crave attention in the worst way. Especially hugs. They hadn’t had one of those since, since before they were taken! They remembered their mother who would always give them hugs as they came in the door and as they left. But that didn’t matter anymore. Whumper took care of that, placing a bullet cleanly between her eyes as they dragged Whumpee, screaming, from their home.

Whumpee shuddered as the memory came and faded. They hated thinking about it, about her fate, and began to sniffle. They missed their mama.

A doctor and nurses entered the room. “Hello, it’s time for bandage changes.” ‘Wow they couldn’t even use my name,’ Whumpee thought, annoyed.

They sat on the bed and removed the blankets. As one of the nurses began to remove the bandages, one was stuck on a scab and Whumpee jolted. “Sorry,” she muttered. As she went to continue, Whumpee pulled away, not wanting to feel the sensation of tearing again. The staff looked at each other and then at Whumpee. The doctor spoke up and warned “You need to hold still.” The nurse continued pulling and Whumpee began to howl in pain as the scab was torn from Whumpee’s leg. Whumpee became more antsy and pushed at her arms to get her away. She wasn’t doing it right.

The doctor hit the call bell and two nursing assistants entered the room. “Please hold the patient while we resume the bandage changes.

With a nursing assistant on each side, Whumpee was stuck. However, as the staff changed the bandages and cleaned up their newly opened up leg, Whumpee couldn’t help but feel compelled to sit quietly as they had a warm body on either side of them, squeezing them tight. It felt almost like a hug in a strange way. It reminded them of their mother and they felt safer.

‘I could get used to this.’ Whumpee began to make a habit of fighting back exclusively so they could have a nursing assistant sit with them. They did so at baths, bandage changes, hell, if they were able to have a staff member with them, they would fight until they had it.

In a staff meeting, the doctor and nurses were trying to figure out what had caused the change in Whumpee’s behavior as this would be the opposite reaction that is seen in someone getting better. The easier the bandage changes and the more cognizant the patient is, the better it should be. They began to discuss potential psych meds to put them on and to have them sedated during any medical intervention.

One of the nursing assistants spoke up. “What if they’re just lonely?”

The doctor brushed aside the thought and continued to discuss four point restraints.

The nursing assistant spoke up again. “I’m serious. I think Whumpee is lonely. Have you noticed that once someone is with them or touching them, they calm down?”

The doctor hesitated. The nurses hesitated. “What do you suggest?” They asked.

“Well, one of us could keep them company throughout the day and be there for bandage changes and meal times and baths and everything that they need done. Realistically, they need a Caretaker. Has the social worker assigned someone to them yet?”

“Well, no, as a matter of fact. We were trying to wait to get them to a healthier place. I see what you’re saying though, they need engagement. Talk amongst yourselves to assign someone to them for this week and we’ll see how it goes.”

After the meeting, the nursing assistants planned out a schedule so someone would always be with Whumpee.

The next morning, after a nursing assistant brought Whumpee their breakfast, they pulled up a chair and sat down. “Mind if I hang out? We thought you might be lonely. Until we can get you a Caretaker, we’ll be keeping you company.”

Carefully listing while chewing their toast, Whumpee nodded. This sounded great! And it was great. With someone to talk to, Whumpee blossomed back into who they were. They made more progress in physical and occupational therapy, had support for bandage changes, and improved overall.

By the time Caretaker was assigned and showed up, Whumpee was in such great shape that they were ready to pack up and take them home. Whumpee cautiously reached out and held their hand as they walked to the car. Caretaker looked down and squeezed Whumpee’s hand with a gentle smile. ‘I think I’m gonna be ok.’

#whumpee #whumpblr #whump blog #whump ideas #whump #whump inspiration #whump tropes #caretaker x whumpee #cw major character death #cw gun mention #cw mcd #cw restraints #tw manhandling #tw restraints #tw gun mention #tw mcd #touchstarved

[redd956]

Feral Whumpees Ideas: Pet Whump Ver.

CW: pet whump, and the usual that comes with it??? (I’ll put it all in the hashtags

By now bear with me, I am not familiar to throwing out pet whump ideas, so I’m doing my best here

Also a continuation/re-rendition of this post

- Whumpee turning against Whumper, showing them how bad a feral pet can be

- A muzzled whumpee still snarling underneath the restraints

-Whumpee jerking violently backwards after making a charge while still being tethered

- Whumpee bashing and throwing themselves against their cage as soon as anyone nears it

- Again, the tranq-gun

- Caretaker being forced to muzzle Whumpee, knowing they’ll never unhear about the betrayal later

- A starved/abused whumpee going feral at the next living thing they see

- Rescued whumpee that is perfectly fine, calm, and recovering until they come in contact with a stranger, then they turn feral on a whim

- Whumper keeping feral whumpee, but getting a new shiny untampered replacement

- A team needing to subdue whumpee

- a monstrous whumpee bearing claws and teeth, making inhumane sounds

- Whumper handing over a concealed cage to Caretaker, as the nervous instantly regretting caretaker watched the cage shake, rattle, and snarl.

- Whumper trained whumpee to be their little guard pet, and now they will do anything to protect their whumper, and turn feral towards the caretaker trying to take them away from said whumper

- Whumpee who has decided to become the guard pet to Caretaker, not letting anyone ever get close when they’re around

- A whumpee such an absolute unit, and so feral that they are restrained by not just a muzzle and chains, but mittens wrapped tight around their hands, a bell/shock collar (and a sharp tail wrapped in cloth)

@mottinthemainpot @violent-ultraviolet​ @themostpowerful​

#feral whumpee #pet whump #cw muzzle #cw restraints #cw pet whump #feral pet whumpee #feral whump #caretaker #whumper #whump #whumpee #pet whumpee #feral pet whump #restraint whump #whump ideas #feral whump ideas #whump prompts

[highwaywhump]

Surgery, part 2

This is a series! Masterlist is here and the first part of the surgery arc is here

so i lied, i rewrote the second part and the whole thing is now closer to 4.5k. enjoy

TW/CW: former pet whumpee/extremely conditioned and dehumanized whumpee having a panic attack, being forcibly 'restrained' (by caretaker!) during said attack, and forcibly drugged with a needle/syringe. brief scar mention, blood mention, very brief description of a cut. discussion of professional misconduct i guess.

--

Aaron stops dead in his tracks in the doorway. At first, he can’t even see Joey - all he sees is Becca, the red-haired nurse who had helped them get Joey’s x-rays, handpicked by Dr. Perez. She’s clutching her arm, blood trickling out between her fingers. Next to her are two more nurses, both tall, broad men, unknown to Aaron. He can’t see Joey at first, all he can see are the three people, two too many, the red blood staining Becca’s scrubs, and a puddle of water and broken glass on the floor. 

And all he can hear is Joey’s desperate sobs and Becca’s voice, trying to communicate something to the two other nurses, who are focused on something behind the bed. 

Aaron doesn’t think, he just acts. In three steps he’s in front of the two nurses, blocking their path, and finally, there’s Joey. He’s all curled up and has tucked himself into the corner formed by the bed and the wall, his skinny arms wrapped around his head, his whole form shaking as he incoherently begs and pleads. Something about being good and behaving and please don’t drug him. 

“We’ve got it,” one of the male nurses says and attempts to move past Aaron, but he holds up a hand, blocking them. “No,” he says with determination, knowing that a pair of huge and institutionally dressed men is the least thing Joey needs right now. 

“No, I’ll take care of him. Help your colleague in the meantime,” he says, if only to stop the two of them closing in like predators. They’ve stances like rugby players, slightly bent at the knees and with their arms out to the side, ready to pounce. Even Aaron, who is perfectly healthy and capable of rational cognition right now, is a little intimidated by them. 

“He should be sedated,” one of them says. “We need to administer pre-op medications,” the other chimes in, pointing to an IV bag laying on the bed, and the pieces fall into place in Aaron’s head. The broken glass of water, Becca who was supposed to be the one administering the medications but who now was bleeding from what looks like a gash in her arm, one of the male nurses who’d dashed past him in the hallway. 

He could see it all playing out. Becca coming in with the IV bag, maybe saying something about medication, reaching for Joey’s arm with the needle in her hand. Joey, still holding his glass of water, already worked up and on edge, losing it at the sight of the needle. Defending himself, in his own hazy, red rimmed eyes. 

And now, having worked himself up, not thinking rationally. Not thinking at all. Panicking because he had defied orders, or hurt someone, or broken a glass. It wasn’t good to say.

“I’ll-” Aaron pauses and breathes out, taking a step backwards from the nurses, towards Joey. “I’ll calm him down, okay? He needs someone he knows. Not…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, only moves his gaze between the two men. 

They seem reluctant. They probably have a responsibility here, handling patients who act out. Only, Joey isn’t acting out. He is just scared, and a pet, and Aaron isn’t sure how much the men know about the situation. Or what they’re even thinking, taking all of Joey’s scars into consideration. It’s as if they’re peaking out everywhere now that he only wears the patient gown. 

“He really needs sedation, for his own safety,” one nurse states. Aaron discerns the unspoken for our safety in his voice. 

For a moment, he considers arguing. He doesn’t want to force anything on Joey that isn’t strictly necessary. Aaron is his advocate and breaching his trust like that while he’s in this state, forcing him to take a needle he clearly doesn’t want, would be traitorous. 

Then again… he weighs the other outcome. Whatever these two nurses think is going on, he can’t let it extend past the patient is unwilling to comply, into the patient isn’t supposed to be here, patient is a pet, patient needs police pick-up. As well as the fact that he could never make Joey come back here after today, even if he managed to reschedule the surgery. It would be like taking a victim back to a crime scene, making them relive the trauma all over again. 

Maybe sedation is for the best. 

“Let me hold him, at least,” Aaron tries. “He can’t handle… this, right now. Give us a minute. I’ll help you.”

They hesitate, but back off, one of them turning to help Becca while the other stands by, looking warily at Joey. Still, he keeps his distance. Aaron exhales and turns around, crouching down in front of Joey. In front of his ward, his responsibility. Christ, everything here is his responsibility. Becca’s injury, too. Does this clinic have a pediatric program or some other heartwrenching project? He’ll donate. 

“Joey?” he ventures, not sure if he can even hear him over his own cries. Okay. Deep breath. 

“Joey, it’s me. Hey, little one.” He goes from crouch to kneel when his knees start protesting, moving as close to the boy as he can. Gently, he reaches out and touches Joey’s shoulder. He flinches violently and his sobs intensify. “Please don’t, please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be still, please,” he whimpers, over and over again. Aaron hopes the nurses can’t make out the words.

He’s all curled up, tucked into himself as best as he can, trying to disappear. All the while, he’s sobbing and begging desperately, completely gone in his own head. Aaron realizes he can’t talk him down from this quickly enough tonight. They’re on a schedule, and the nurses are growing uneasy. 

He’ll just have to take the plunge. 

“It’s okay,” he mutters as he leans forward and envelops Joey’s bony frame and hugs him close, as tightly as he thinks he can handle. He is petrified, his whole body tight and stiff, and he lets out a scared and confused wail as he’s pulled into the tight embrace.  

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Aaron continues, both to himself and to Joey, as he finds the back of his head and tucks into the crook of his own neck, hoping to provide some semblance of warmth and safety for what he has to do next. 

With his other hand he finds Joey’s, squeezing his fingers to see if he gets a response, if they might be able to communicate nonverbally like that. A squeeze means I’m here, I’m listening, trust me. When Joey is too shaken up to speak to him, he’s usually able to at least squeeze back. 

Not now, though. Joey’s fingers are curled up into a hard little fist. Aaron sighs and hugs him tighter, mumbling apologies into his hair as he clasps his wrist and pulls it away from them, extending it towards the nurses. He watches through the corner of his eye as one of them removes a sterile cannula from its packet and takes hold of Joey’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Aaron mumbles as Joey whines when he feels the foreign touch. His face is still hidden in his sweater. He pushes even closer and Aaron can feel him trying to pull his hand back, out of his and the nurse’s grip. It catches him off guard - Joey has never, ever opposed anything Aaron has ever said or done. This is completely novel.

“Please don’t do it,” he sniffles into Aaron’s sweater. “Please don’t, don’t make me, I don’t want to, please,” he repeats, over and over, and it breaks Aaron’s heart, forcibly holding his hand away from his body like this, holding him still. 

A part of him lights up with the thought that he still has some semblance of volition. Everything wasn’t beaten out of him. At the same time, right now, Aaron has to disregard it. He has to hold him still and force him to endure it as the nurse feels around for a vein. “Small pinch, now,” he says, as he pushes the cannula through his skin. 

This is all Aaron’s fault. If he hadn’t left the room, if he had been there when Becca came in, they could’ve worked it out together, undramatically. This whole episode could’ve been avoided. Surely, all traces of trust between them must be gone by now. 

Joey moans, in pain or desperation or maybe both, as the nurse attaches the tubing and picks up the saline bag, hanging it on its stand. He collapses in Aaron’s arms. Still, Aaron doesn’t let go, keeping him close. “You’re okay, it’s okay,” he repeats, over and over again, hoping some of it reaches past the walls built up inside Joey’s mind. The nurse picks up a syringe and pushes its contents into the injection port of the IV tube. Then, he, Becca, and the other nurse leave the room. 

They sit like that for what feels like an eternity. Joey calms down after a while, now leaning heavily into Aaron. His shoulders flinch from time to time, but he’s stopped crying quite as audibly as he did. 

Aaron guesses this is the result of the sedation. It was normal, right? Giving a weak sedative before a surgery, just to calm any nerves? Had Becca brought in the sedatives as well as the IV bag or had the male nurses brought it when they heard the commotion? He wonders how much the two of them know. None of them were supposed to be here, he thinks. What did they think had happened? Who did they think Joey was? 

He glances to the side, where he still holds Joey’s wrist. Gently, he angles it - and there it is, the ugly barcode tattoo. His blood runs cold. He didn’t think that far when he took Joey’s wrist to hold it out for the nurses. Did they see it? If they did, had they cleaned up Becca’s sliced up arm and then gone to call the police after? 

He’s left no time to ponder or worry any longer as the door opens and Dr. Perez enters. She seems unfazed by the sight that meets her - blood and crushed glass that hadn’t been cleaned up yet, and the two of them sitting in a corner. Somebody must’ve informed her.  

“Are you okay?” She rounds the bed and crouches down in front of them. “Becca told me what happened.

“I think so,” Aaron answers, gently shifting Joey to get a look of his face. He’s drowsy and heavy in his arms, his eyes puffy and red rimmed as he blinks them open and tries to focus. Aaron smiles at him. “Hey, you,” he mutters softly, pushing his hair away from his face. 

“I hope he’s still up for the surgery,” Dr. Perez says, eyeing the IV bag to see how much of the liquid inside has been reduced. “What happened was… I won’t say normal, but it’s not unusual. We never know how they might react to what we do to them.”

Aaron nods. “Is Becca okay?” 

“She is. It looked worse than it was.” She looks over her shoulder, where the glass and blood still hasn’t been cleaned up. “Don’t worry. She knows that what she does for a living isn’t risk-free. And she knows that we don’t know what kind of trauma our patients carry with them. It’s nobody’s fault. Least of all his.” 

“I have to ask… do the other nurses know? The other two who were here.” 

She looks down. “They know about my situation, what I do. They don’t know about him, per say. They’ll probably make the connection, but I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Aaron’s eyebrows knit together, still not convinced. “How can you be sure?” 

She exhales in a puff, a slight chuckle, even. “Everyone in this industry knows somebody who knows somebody who does this sort of thing.” Illegal surgeries. The words are unspoken, but still clear as day. “I am far from the only one, believe me. If they didn’t like it, they would have quit and reported me a long time ago. And then they’d start working at the next hospital and have to do the same thing. There’s always someone.” She gives him a minute, knowing smile. “This country would run out of healthcare workers if they revoked every license from one who has treated a pet or ex-pet.”

Aaron doesn’t quite know what to say. He’s relieved “So… we’re good?” he asks eventually, for lack of better words. 

Dr. Perez nods. “We’re good. Now, let’s get going before the anaesthesiologist gets tired of waiting.” 

She helps him support Joey up to his feet and then to sit down on the bed. He’s swaying, gripping at the bedsheets to keep his balance, so Aaron gently guides him to lay down instead. He’s completely still, only breathing. His eyes are large and round as he finds Aaron hand, holding onto it with startling solidity. 

“Was… was I bad?” he whispers shakily. 

“No,” Aaron says immediately, not leaving it up for discussion. He doesn’t know what Joey knows, what he remembers of what had happened. Still, he won’t let Joey go around with doubts in his mind. 

His other hand finds Joey’s cheek, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. He leans into it, still keeping that intense eye contact. “No, sweetheart,” Aaron says, softer. “You weren’t bad. You were just scared.” In his head he adds It was my fault, I’m sorry, thinking the statement might be too much for him to make sense of now, in his delirious, drugged state. 

Joey dips his head slightly in what might be a nod. Aaron tries to smile at him. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go get that leg fixed up.” 

-

tags <3

@simplygrimly @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @briars7 @hackles-up @doveotions @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kixngiggles @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpthisway @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumping-snail @pumpkin-spice-whump @pigeonwhumps

#cw doctors #cw talk of surgery #cw pet whump #cw conditioning #cw scar mention #cw blood #cw bruise mention #cw syringe #cw needles #cw restraints #sort of #its really just a tight hug #but its from a loved one so maybe #betrayal #is a better tag #cw cut description #pet whump #pet whumpee #bbu #boxboy whump #boxboy universe #whump fic #whump #medical whump

[whumpprentice]

whumpee asking to be restrained or held down out of fear they might hurt caretaker during a nightmare or hallucination

#whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt #cw restraints #so devastating to me

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 19: Leannan Gets a New Name

2265 words

CW: institutionalized slavery, religious themes, noncon with multiple whumpers, restraints

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Titus 2:9

Teach slaves to be subject to their masters in everything, to try to please them, not to talk back to them.

~~~

“You understand you belong to me now, yes?” Captain DuPont asked.

“Yes, sir,” Leannan smiled sweetly.

They had come for him after dark. Leannan had fallen half-asleep on the floor, near Phineas but not quite next to them. He had been yanked out of his doze and forced to his feet. He had stumbled along between two guards to the door, their hands firmly around his arms.

“Do we take Councilwoman Jeanette, too?” one guard had asked the other, putting all his scorn into the title, “Have twice the fun?”

Leannan’s heart took a dive at that, bringing him fully into wakefulness. He knew what he was being taken for. Jeanette – even if she was a heathen – was a real person, and ill. Real people shouldn’t be made to do what Iowans do.

“Don’t you know what disease she has?” he had asked innocently, “It’s terribly contagious.”

“Ugh,” the guard had cringed, “Nevermind.”

Now Leannan stood in the dining room, next to the head of the table where DuPont sat. The table was filled with guards, sitting elbow-to-elbow, stuffing their faces with what looked like a month’s worth of food preserves: dried fruits, jarred vegetables, smoked meats and sausages, dried fish, jams and jellies, and bottles upon bottles of wine – or rather, they had been eating, until Leannan entered and took their attention. Now they all watched him, whispering amongst themselves.

“You know, I’m not all that interested in you,” DuPont said, “I’m married. I love my wife. But, I am willing to take care of you. Give you a good life. Protect you.” His eyes flicked to the ogling guards, then back to Leannan. “But I love the men and women who work for me, as well. I want them to have a nice celebration tonight. So here’s what I’m going to do,” he leaned forward, “You’re going to see what your life would be like with them. And afterwards, you can pick. Them or me.”

“But you’re my master, sir,” Leannan said, hiding his nervousness with more smiles, “Of course I’ll pick you.”

“I know you will,” DuPont smiled back, “But I want you know know exactly what’s waiting for you if you ever disobey me.”

It was getting harder for Leannan to keep smiling.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said softly, “I’d never disobey you.”

“You’re talking back to me right now.”

“Wh – No, I…”

“There it is again,” DuPont said calmly, “I don’t want to ever hear you say ‘no’ to me, Leannan, or that I don’t need to do something, or that you don’t like something, or that you don’t want to do something. What I want from you is unquestioning obedience. What I want is for you to be quiet and do as I say. I don’t want to hear a word from you unless I ask you a question or give you an order. Can you do that, Leannan?”

“Yes, sir.” It had to be just a power trip, the Captain reveling in his new authority over Leannan, or a show for his subordinates. There was no way DuPont would actually be that strict.

“Call me Captain.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And you will be called Chien, not Leannan, from now on.”

“Sean?” Leannan tried to repeat, his Iowan tongue not quite forming the word, while the guards around the table laughed. DuPont heaved a sigh.

“What did I say about talking, Chien?”

“I – I will not speak unless spoken to, Captain,” Leannan stammered out. No, not Leannan – Chien.

“Good boy,” DuPont smiled, and then his gaze slid from Chien over to the guards at the table.

“Alright,” he said, “You can take him now.”

The table erupted into whoops and cheers, and the guard sitting nearest to Leannan – no, Chien – stood and scooped him up into his arms.

Chien let him. He knew it would be easier, to just let them do what they wanted. Even so, he couldn’t resist looking over his carrier's shoulder at the entourage of guards following them out of the dining room, trying to count them. Fifteen, maybe? Mostly men.

Chien had never taken on fifteen before. He felt a little sick.

This was happening. This was happening, and there was nothing he could do. The guards behind him chattered excitedly about what they were going to do to him, how long they’d been waiting, how Chien’s ass was just begging for it – Chien tuned their vulgarity out. It helped that his blood was pounding in his ears, loud and fast.

He missed being Leannan already. Leannan felt stronger than this.

He screwed his eyes shut and prayed it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

He was dropped onto a bed. He opened his eyes, and found himself in his room. Was it still his room? Was it ever his room, really? It didn’t feel like it, anymore.

Hands were on him, tugging at his clothes. He shut his eyes again.

Take a breath.

Turn it on.

He sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head, unveiling a smiling face. A new person. Chien.

“Oh, wow!” he gasped, pulling his pants down, “There are so many of you! Are you going to take turns?”

They were all around, some kneeling on the bed, some hanging back and watching, some already partially undressed. It was hard for Chien to keep smiling.

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” someone said, and the hands were back on him, pulling him down, onto his back, lifting and spreading his legs, pinning his arms. Someone had the bottle of oil, pouring the cool liquid onto him, drizzling it up onto his stomach, hands massaging it onto him, then into him as a finger plunged. His legs were pulled further apart, too far, it hurt, and it was hard to keep smiling. But he moaned, in the way people liked, and they were asking him something but it didn’t really matter what they were asking, Chien would always say yes. Always.

Someone leaned over him, reached out; and Chien was blinded by a length of cloth wrapped around his head. He laughed, like this was fun. Someone laughed back.

The loss of one sense made the others feel worse. There were too many hands on him to count. Blood rushed through his ears like a storm. He smelled sweat, and distantly, his own perfume. Lavender.

A second finger entered, prying him open, and Chien tilted his hips to help the process along, like he was supposed to. Someone grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to their dick, and Chien obediently closed his hands around it and began to stroke.

It was hard to keep smiling.

The fingers withdrew but Chien only experienced the relief of emptiness for a moment before they were replaced with a hard cock, sliding in and out as the owner groaned and spoke to Chien.

A lot of people were saying things, actually. There was a lot being said to him, about him, around him. But he needed to keep making the noises they liked and he needed to press up into the man fucking him and he needed to keep jacking the other one off and he didn’t really have the space to listen to what anyone was saying. As long as they were happy, they were laughing, he was doing his job. God would be proud.

He breathed “Yes,” every time a sentence ended with a questioning upturn. That was the only word he really needed to say.

“Do you like that?”

“Are you a desperate whore?”

“You like my cock, huh?”

“You’re the star of the party, aren’t you?”

“Don’t cum inside him, I’m not sticking my dick in your spend, dude.”

The cock inside him pulled out and spilled wet heat onto his stomach. The bed bounced as one person left and was replace with another. Hands pushed, tones became negotiating, and Chien was rolled over. His hips were pulled up and someone new entered him, fucking him slow, gentle. His head was lifted by the hair, and the mattress sagged as someone knelt in front of him.

“Open,” an order made it through the haze. Chien obeyed, taking another into his mouth, groaning, choking, gasping. This one wasn’t slow, or gentle. He couldn’t really smile anymore.

Someone reached under and began to work Chien’s cock. He was hard, as he should be. They’d have fun making him cum. That was good, it was good when they had fun.

He was breathing too fast. He tried to slow down, but it was hard with his airway blocked half the time.

He swallowed one, the other came on his back. People cheered. That was good. He was putting on a good show. It didn’t matter that the blindfold was growing damp against his eyelids. It didn’t matter that his arms were shaking beneath him. He was bringing pleasure to his betters.

The two left, and two more replaced them. The one in his mouth came quickly, to jeers and ridicule, and was replaced. No matter; so long as no one was upset with Chien.

Chien came too, eventually. It was inevitable. This was met with cheers and whistles – but the hand on his cock never left, it just kept going, pushing him into painful overstimulation. A sob forced its way out, stifled by his full mouth. He’d never tell them to stop, though. That wouldn’t be right.

But…

“Please,” he choked out the next time his mouth was free, after swallowing another load, “I need a minute!”

Laughter. Someone grabbed his hair.

“The Captain said to work you as hard as we could. I don’t think you get any breaks!”

Hands pushed. New position. More fucking.

It just kept going. Chien wasn’t counting. He couldn’t have counted, even if he tried. Everything was too loud, too painful, too fast.

He was fighting back before he realized it. Pushing them away. Clawing at the blindfold. Crying. The hands became harsher. They seized his wrists, twisted his arms behind his back, tied them up with something. He kicked – they tied up his legs too.

Hands pushed. New position. More fucking.

Chien screamed for Phineas.

~~~

Phineas woke when the door to their makeshift cell banged open. Their internal clock told them it was about what-the-fuck in the morning. In the slim light coming through the door from the hallway, they saw a guard drag in and throw down a body. Then he was gone, taking the light with him as the door closed and locked.

Phineas stood, crossing the room as their eyes readjusted to the dark. Jeanette lay off to the side, slowly pushing herself upright.

“Is that Leannan?” she asked.

Phineas didn’t answer. Of course it was Leannan. They’d recognize the whore’s naked body anywhere, even in the smallest sliver of starlight eking through the boarded-up windows. He lay on the floor, bound and blindfolded with scraps of fabric, his chest heaving with labored breaths. As they drew closer they could smell him, even through their stuffed up broken nose: sex, sweat, and fresh blood. The blood was smeared across his ass and down his thighs, nearly black as it dried and disappearing into the blueish belt marks that still colored the back of his torso and legs. They wrinkled their nose in disgust, but knelt and reached out anyway, pulling off the blindfold. Leannan blinked up at them, dazed.

“Phineas?” he croaked.

Now that they were closer, Phineas could see the semen dripped across Leannan’s skin, his face, his torso, his hair, some of it already dried and flaking. Phineas felt a flare of revulsion, mixed with jealously. It should have been Phineas defiling Leannan’s body like that, not anyone else. The two feelings culminated into petulance, directed towards Leannan. They dropped the blindfold and stood, walking away.

“Phineas!” Leannan pleaded behind them, “Phineas, please untie me!”

“You don’t belong to me anymore,” they said, settling back into their corner, “I don’t owe you anything.”

There was a moment of silence as Leannan processed this, then an audible sob. He drew his knees up to his chest and turned his face down towards the floor, crying.

Phineas was about to let their eyes drift closed to sleep when they saw Jeanette, crawling laboriously across the floor towards Leannan. They lifted their head to watch.

“Leannan?�� she touched his shoulder, feather-light, “Leannan, it’s me, I’m going to untie you.”

“Thank you!” Leannan gasped, “Thank you, Jeanette!”

It took her a minute to unwork the knots, but soon Leannan was sitting up, rolling his wrists and ankles out.

“Thank you, Jeanette,” he said again, and Phineas felt another spike of jealously. Leannan’s gratitude used to be all theirs. Now it could be anyone’s.

“It’s alright,” Jeanette replied softly, “I should be thanking you, for what you said when they threatened to take me.”

Phineas rolled their eyes. Of course, these two would get all soft and chummy with each other.

“Oh,” Leannan sniffled, “It just slipped out. I’m really not supposed to lie, ever. That’s probably why…” Leannan stopped, pressing a hand against his mouth. His shoulders shook with a silent sob.

“I’m sorry, Leannan,” Jeanette said, “I wish I could do more.”

“My name’s not Leannan anymore,” he said, his voice thick with tears, “It’s Chien.”

“Chien?” Jeanette echoed faintly.

“Mhm.”

“That means ‘dog,’” she informed him.

“Oh,” the Iowan hung his head, fiddling with the talisman around his neck, “Okay.”

Phineas huffed. How come they had never thought of that! Hundo would have been adorable.

~~~

Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

Let me know if you want on or off the taglist!

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #nsfwhump #forged divinity #cw slavery #cw religion #cw noncon #cw restraints