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#fantasy whumpee
milk-carton-whump · 1 year
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Let's meet Kerei and Siqill! Kerei has a lot to learn still... but I'm sure he'll get the hang of it soon.
Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @sideblogformindtrash @cowboy-anon @unicornscotty
CW: fantasy whumpee, cuts, blood, verbal abuse, gaslighting (lmk if I forgot any)
Broken Spells
There had been an explosion and blinding light, it wasn't his fault. He carefully lowered his arms that had been shielding his face and now looked around the room. There was shattered glass and ingredients scattered all over the floor. He sighed to himself and flicked his tail in annoyance, something had been written down wrong for the spell and now it had backfired in the most tremendous way.
He went to find a broom to sweep up the mess, how could it have been written wrong. There was no way possible. He thought to himself. His teacher was one of the most highly respected and regarded wizards around, he never would've made such a foolish error.
Just as he was beginning to sweep up the glass the door to the study swung open.
"Kerei! What was that noise?!" A great figure of a man, his voice booming with no effort as he spoke.
"It was just a mistake sir, somehow the spell was written wron-" He was cut off.
"Nonsense. You did something wrong. All my spells are written correctly. You're where the error lies." Siqill snapped at the boy.
Kerei flinched at the accusation, it hurt to know he was trusted so little. His eyes darted down to the floor.
"What are you waiting for?! Get down and start cleaning up! I don't want glass on my floor."
"I…um…yes sir." The young magic user said and went to start sweeping it up.
"No. On your knees. I want every shard to be picked up by hand."
"But sir…that'll take hours…"
"Don't argue with me. One day you'll look back and thank me for this lesson. Now get to it."
Kerei nodded softly and started to carefully pick up the sharp shards of glass off the floor. He loaded them into his hand as carefully as he could. Hours began to pass, and over that time cuts appeared and the glass took on a reddish appearance. He sniffled as he finally finished picking up the glass, his hands ached from all the open wounds on them. A spell could surely fix this in a breath, but he had already done enough damage today, bed seemed like the better option now.
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Imagine a spoiled royal, heir to the throne, part of a powerful bloodline that gives them "divine right to rule". They're raised to be cruel, and told their heritage puts them above everyone else.
And then one day, it's revealed before the entire court that it's all a lie. The royal was switched at birth with the child of a servant. The real heir has been serving in the palace all this time, unaware of their birthright. Maybe they're even someone the faux-royal had been particularly cruel to all their lives.
The ruling family is quick to push out the false heir---blood is more important to them than any illusion of family---and welcome the servant with open arms.
Maybe the false heir is banished from the kingdom they were raised to rule. Maybe they're imprisoned so the truth can never come out. Maybe they're made a servant, now at the beck and call of someone they'd thought beneath them.
Does the true heir take pity on them, or do they seek vengeance from years of abuse? Does the royal family have any regrets, or have they always been cold, only concerned with holding power? What do the servants and commoners do, now that the arrogant "heir" has lost all power and protection?
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epiclamer · 13 days
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Hero shot up, the first thing they knew was that they couldn’t breathe, the second was that it was because they were vomiting. Or, at least, their body was trying to.
They keeled over the side of their bed, clutching their spasming abdomen with one hand while the other held desperately onto the mattress. Their blanket swamped their legs, their shirt was glued to their back with sweat, and their hair was plastered to their burning forehead.
Again, they couldn’t breathe, every muscle in their body squeezed relentlessly as it tried to rid itself of the contents of their stomach. They gagged, shook, and breathed, then the cycle repeated itself. Over and over again, Hero hadn’t even realized it, but they were begging.
Please, please, please, please—
Begging someone or something to save them, to stop this. They convulsed again, eyes rolling back, mouth open, but nothing came of it.
Eventually—after another thirty seconds or so—it stopped. Hero wheezed, their whole body was sickly cold and yet somehow also sweaty, their head was reeling and they couldn’t hold themselves up anymore, they just collapsed.
They had expected to hit the ground head first with a thud, their grip on the mattress was loose and they knew what was in store for them, instead, two arms swooped them up before they could collide, pulling them in close to the stranger’s chest. Hero’s first instinct was to pull away, fight, claw themselves out, but then they recognized this feeling, those arms, and that chest.
“Villain?”
The light on their nightstand flicked to life with a dim yellow glow and with a good twist of their neck Hero could see their nemesis as clear as day.
“Hey, Hero.”
Unwillingly, the hero’s body relaxed, practically melting into the criminal’s arms as they were hauled back up to their bed. Once they could see the villain again, Hero noted the sad smile they were sporting. They looked tired, definitely not as tired as the hero did, but there were bags under their eyes nonetheless.
What time was it anyways? Hero turned to check their alarm clock, it was four in the morning. What the hell was Villain doing in their house?
“Do you know what… that was?”
Hero startled out of their thoughts, eyes meeting the villain’s once more. They nodded, slowly but surely and with some weird ever-growing shame gnawing at their gut. “Nightmare.”
The villain let out a small chuckle, “That is what your nightmares look like?” Their expression however was one of fear.
They nodded, their nightmares had just been getting worse and worse lately there was no use trying to hide it. For whatever reason Hero hoped that being honest would get them some comfort from their lifelong enemy.
A silly thought at best and utterly ridiculous at worst.
Villain pulled the blanket up to Hero’s shoulders, tucking them in carefully. “Are they all like that? Or are some just worse than others?”
“It depends, yeah. This one was one of the more… difficult ones.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” It came out faster than the Hero had expected, almost like the villain had been keeping it on the tip of their tongue this whole time.
The villain’s eyes met the hero’s once more, they locked and finally Hero could see that their nemesis was actually worried. Not scared, or sad, or tired, it was worry. Hero had to fight to keep down whatever emotion bubbled up at the thought of someone actually caring enough to worry about them.
“It’s just violence. Senseless killing, or running from being killed, or chasing after someone to kill.” Their cheeks burnt up in shame, they were a hero, they weren’t supposed to have dreams like these.
They must’ve been deranged, it was the only plausible answer. Heroes were peace-keepers, not killers, clearly, their subconscious hadn’t gotten the memo.
“I’m sorry.”
Hero’s thoughts skidded to a halt. What.
“I’m sorry.” The villain repeated, placing both of their hands against the blanket as if they could read the hero’s mind. “That sounds terrible. I-I can’t imagine what it feels like…” They trailed off, somewhat lost in thought.
Hero’s stomach clenched again, this time out of pure nerves. The worst part of this was that the villain seemed so genuine; Hero was smart enough to know they didn’t deserve that.
“You should really be apologizing for breaking into my house—” They chuckled and even though it was a last-ditch attempt to lighten to mood it seemed to have worked.
Villain scrunched their nose in response, shooting a glance over their shoulder at the pile of notes they had been filing through just a moment ago. Suddenly coming back to the current situation and the realization of what they were doing—caressing their nemesis in bed.
They stepped back and Hero shot up, reaching for the villain before they could stop and think. Tears welled up in their eyes, their breath quickened, the horrible thought of being alone again to manage their own dreams struck them like a blow to the head.
“Wait, wait, wait, please— please stay, Villain please don’t leave me—” They were blubbering, they could feel it, but it didn’t matter; they were desperate. “Please, just stay for one night, please…”
Villain only thought about it for a second, they didn’t need any more time to decide to crawl under the duvet.
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avvail-whumps · 2 months
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I’m just thinking about a vampire hunter who lost their arm. They replace it with a prosthetic one made out of silver. Imagining the pain when they grab a vampire, or pin them down by their neck while their skin burns under the silver and there’s nothing they can do because it hurts so much. Fingers desperately trying to find something other than the arm to grab onto to try and pry them off.
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abhainnwhump · 1 month
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Whumpee is fighting Whumper with a group of their friends. Whumpee and Whumper fight one on one and Whumper pins Whumpee down. They don't understand what is happening at first, but then Whumper pushes their palm against Whumpee's head. It starts with burning, then screaming, then the world goes dark. Whumper removes their hand and Whumpee has a mind control rune on their forehead.
"Stand up." Whumpee obeys Whumper's command. With a snap of their fingers, Whumper points to Whumpee's friends. "Kill them."
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whumpberry-cookie · 1 year
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Villain turned Caretaker:
When a magical Hero gets kidnapped by an unknown Villain they instantly and easily get use to living conditions in captivity.
No food? Fair enough, once a three days is fine. Cold and no blanket or mattress? Okay, it's better for the back anyway. Blindfolded/tied up? Understandable, Villain can't trust a person they just met after all, can they?
(V:) "Oh, don't you like the way I hosted you, poor thing? Wanna cry for your friends to come get you?"
(H:) "Oh no, that's okay, really. It's not that different from my usual trainings"
(V:) "What."
Hero shrugs.
(V:) "You know, it's not fun when you're not complaining. Is that how your Leader treats their precious secret weapon?"
(H:) "Can a monster like me really expect anything better?"
(V:) "........"
(V:) "That's fucking it. I'm keeping you"
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the sickfic to end all sickfics
i will never get tired of a boy going to bed feeling funny and waking up in the middle of the night feverish and horrifically sick.
he tries to brush off his sour stomach and tiredness and lack of appetite. after all, he’s been working long hours and eating the wrong things. a good night’s sleep is all he needs. he hardly touches his dinner and is in bed by 7:30.
he falls asleep quickly next to you, but his temperature rises and leaves him with feverish, confused dreams. you’re awoken by him mumbling deliriously, and when you ask him what’s the matter he starts muttering incoherent sentences that don’t seem to connect or conclude. you switch on a bedside lamp, and examine the pallor of his sweat-slicked face while using your palm to feel his forehead. he’s absolutely burning hot. his eyes, heavylidded, flutter.
“i don’t feel good” he manages to tell you through dry lips. his breaths come shallow and out of his mouth. you feel so sorry for him but can’t help but find him irresistible in such a weak state. you ask him where he isn’t feeling good, brushing back his bangs.
“stomach” is all he says. you probe further and ask him what kind of stomach ache it is, and with a heavy swallow he says “nauseous” and that “everything is spinning.” you lie there with him until his saliva is too much for his own mouth, and you have to help him to the bathroom. you stay by his side until he thinks he’s done.
the next morning doesn’t fare much better. he got sick a couple more times in the night, and is still running a fever. he mumbles incoherent thoughts about having to call into work sick, so worried about having to take a sick day, about how much he’ll be missing at work. he tosses layers of blankets to the floor and removes his pajamas, complaining about how hot it is. within fifteen minutes he is shivering and you have to help him put his pajamas back on.
he goes a couple hours without throwing up, and you suggest crackers. he manages to keep those down, and before long he agrees to a can of chicken soup. when you come to place the tray over his lap, he is lying there staring off into space looking so miserable and pale. you hope the soup will give a little color to his face.
he slurps the soup down to its bottom. you’re glad to see him eating, and after he’s done you take the bowl to wash. as you’re doing the dishes, you hear him coughing. you think he might be trying to clear his throat.
you hear him start to retch.
you leave the sink and come back into the bedroom. his head is hung over a trash can. he looks up.
“im sorry,” he mutters. “im so sorry. i didn’t mean to.”
this sight absolutely breaks your heart. in this woozy state he feels the need to apologize, worried about upsetting or offending you for throwing up the soup you made. you rub circles on his back and hush him as he apologizes again and again and again. after he’s done you tuck him back up, kissing his burning forehead. you sit at his bedside to play with his hair and make him sleepy. he goes in and out of sleep, and senses when you’re not there. when he wakes he weakly cries out for you, begging for you to make it all better. all you can do is pet his hair and shush him, hoping it’ll all be over soon.
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whumperofworlds · 8 months
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A Whumpee protects Caretaker from a threat by using all of their magic at once. All of them powerful. When the threat is gone, Whumpee collapses in Caretaker's arms, much to Caretaker's shock and worry.
Whumpee has been out for a few days, and when they wake up, they see Caretaker, asleep in the chair next to Whumpee's bed, holding their hand.
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loonybun · 17 days
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hooks as restraints, digging under the skin. I think this works particularly well for merfolk whump. If you wanna be really mean, maybe have them hang by the hook. Even if they’re perfectly still, the wound will still grow worse. If they struggle, they’ll just create more pain for themselves. I’ve literally never seen this done before but god i need it asap
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shshshquietnow · 6 months
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I'm a big fan of angels and demons in whump, especially angel whumpees with demon whumpers. A demon obsessed with getting this divine perfection to break, and an angel having to stare in the face of something they've been told horror stories of since childhood.
But something I don't see used a lot is FALLEN angel whumpees, which I think have a lot to use. No one's coming for them, maybe they're weaker than before, they've been forsaken, they're maybe a bit spunkier, maybe already a little broken... they're great material to mold and mesh.
Or even fallen angel WHUMPERS, ones with nothing to lose, bitter and hurt... fallen angels walk around, showing the world with just their wings they've done something to piss off the heavens. Who WOULDNT be scared being taken caprice by one?!
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echo-goes-mmm · 1 year
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So we all the love the whumpee-thinks-caretaker-is-their-new-master trope but what if it's true
Caretaker who did buy whumpee, and who does wholeheartedly believes and acts like whumpee belongs to them
But damn it they take great care of their possessions. After all, cats and dogs get spoiled with treats and comfy beds and vet visits when they're sick and cuddles and a form of love
Why should a slave be any different? Especially because caretaker bought whumpee for companionship
Plus whumpee can tidy up, cook for themselves, hold a conversation, and even play games like cards or board games, and can go everywhere caretaker can
That's infinitely better than a cat or dog.
It's just such a shame their old owner was so terrible. Whumpee is so timid now, and nearly skin and bone. But that's nothing a good owner can't fix, right? The poor thing needs some proper structure and attention that's all. It's a good thing whumpee is human. It would be a lot harder to rehabilitate a rescue who can't comprehend speech.
And whumpee doesn't want to leave. Fetching files from a desk and playing checkers and occasionally cleaning the kitchen while master chatters about work is far better than being locked in a cold basement and getting beaten every day
Their new master doesn't lay a hand on them, their version of punishment is no music while doing chores, or no dessert
After all, you wouldn't hit your dog. Caretaker's new pet deserves at least that
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nat-1-whump · 2 months
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We need to give winged whumpees more love. Consider:
As hurt, we've got...
Sick Whumpee struggles to sleep because their wings make lying down tricky. This makes them extra miserable when they're already sick, tired, and desperately need to sleep but just can't get comfortable.
When Whumpee gets badly injured on the field, it takes the whole team to pin them down so they don't thrash around and make it worse while Caretaker tries to treat them. They've got people holding their legs, arms, and wings, and as much as Whumpee screams and writhes in pain, they don't let go. While they try to pull their wing from their teammate's grip, Whumpee accidentally dislocates it.
Whumper restrains Whumpee and rips their feathers out, one by one... Or all at once, if they are so inclined.
Whumpee gets caught in some kind of trap that covers their wings in gunk, effectively pinning them to the ground as they desperately try to escape from Whumper.
Sick with a horrible fever, Whumpee feels freezing cold no matter how much they're actually burning up. They keep trying to wrap their wings around themself for warmth, but Caretaker keeps stopping them by spreads their wings out. Whumpee groans as they try to pull their wings back. Caretaker whispers an apology, but they still can't let Whumpee risk making their fever worse.
Whumpee gets knocked out in midair, plummeting to the ground completely helpless. Or slamming into every tree branch, rooftop, or clothes line on the way down.
And as comfort, there's...
Caretaker gives Whumpee a warm bath and massages the dried blood out of their feathers. By the time they're done, Whumpee is fast asleep.
Caretaker repositions the pillows and blankets on Whumpee's bed into a sort of nest, trying to help Whumpee get as comfortable as they can. Afterwards, they bundle Whumpee in a blanket, wrapping Whumpee in their own wings first to make the blanket fit around them better and provide some extra warmth.
After Whumpee gets badly injured, Caretaker bandages up their wings, trying to soothe them whenever they cry out from the pain. Unable to fly, Whumpee gets increasingly impatient with themself over the following days. Caretaker notices their frustration and gently encourages them to take it easy and let their wings rest.
Whumpee uses their wings as a blanket for both themself and Caretaker as they snuggle together on the couch.
When Whumpee can barely walk due to their injuries, the weight of their wings only adds to the struggle. Though they encourage Whumpee to stay in bed and rest as much as possible, Caretaker is happy to wrap their arm around Whumpee's waist and help them around the house. Whumpee rests a wing on Caretaker's shoulders as they make their way to the kitchen for some warm food.
Caretaker asks Whumpee to hold still so they can draw their wings in their sketchbook. They say it's so Whumpee can see what their wings look like without trying to bend backwards in a mirror, but there's a silent understanding between the two that it's because they're both craving some time together. Whumpee starts to feel stiff from holding their wings out, but they can't help but smile a bit at the way Caretaker leans closer to watch the light move across their feathers. Though Whumpee had never seen their wings as anything particularly beautiful, they set off a sort of sparkle in Caretaker's eyes.
And maybe some wing-related dialogue, such as...
Whumper grinned, picking up a pair of wire cutters. The tool glinted in the flickering torch light. "Well, you've gone and flown a little too close to the sun, didn't you, Whumpee? Not to worry, though. You'll never fly again, when I'm through with you."
"Oh, why won't you sing for me, my beautiful songbird?" Whumper drawled as they ran a finger along Whumpee's throat. Whumpee only glared back. If it weren't for the muzzle, they would have spat on Whumper's shoes. They squirmed in their restraints, leather straps binding their wings close to their back.
"Oh, you poor thing... What happened to your wings? C'mere, let me look at them..." Caretaker pulled Whumpee into an embrace, grabbing their wings with gentle hands. Their breath hitched as they noticed that, under the tattered feathers, Whumpee's injuries were even worse than they thought.
Caretaker slapped sick Whumpee's cheek, trying to wake them up. "Hey, Whumpee, um. Listen, y-you're fever's getting worse and I just need to know... Whatever you are, do you go to a doctor or a vet?" They weren't exactly prepared for this winged stranger to show up on their doorstep half-dead. While they might have normally found their dilemma a bit comedic, right now it was hard to laugh. Whumpee desperately needed medical help, but they had no idea where to take them.
"Ngh-stop! Let go of my wings, or so help me I'll---" Whumpee's protests turned into a scream as Caretaker poured antiseptic onto a cloth and pressed it against their gaping wound. Whumpee passed out from the pain, falling limp with tears still streaming down their face. As their vision faded, they heard Caretaker's whispered apologies.
"Six months for the feathers to grow back?!" Whumpee's lower lip started to quiver. "B-but... I can't fly..." They took a wing in their hands, running their fingers along the bare, bloody skin where their feathers had been ripped out. Caretaker reached out to put a hand on Whumpee's shoulder, but Whumpee flinched back. A tear rolled down their cheek, stinging them as it landed right on an open cut on their wing. "Nonononono, th-there's gotta be something you can do! Anything! Please... I want my feathers back."
Just... Wings. Yeah.
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epiclamer · 1 month
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Part 2
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“You’re finally awake~”
Sidekick barely registered the voice over the pounding of their heart in their head. They stretched their neck up to try and see whomever had tied them spread eagle to a bed, but could hardly get a glance from their restrained position.
Footsteps resounded through the room until they stopped somewhere near the foot of the bed. The hero-in-training gulped, they were terrified.
“W-Who are you?”
Their capturer huffed a laugh, stepping over to the side of the bed and into the sidekick’s view. “You’ve yet to meet me, darling. I’m a friend of your friend.”
The sidekick pursed their lips in an awkward frown, masking their unease. “By friend, you mean enemy… right?”
The other, presumably Villain (the sidekick guessed), smirked. “I guess you could say that.”
Hot sweat ran down the sidekick’s back and into the soft sheets below them, for some reason their whole body felt hot. Were they drugged? Truth serum-ed? Maybe even poisoned?
“You might have a concussion, I hit you quite hard over the head.” As if on queue, the sidekick felt a sudden sharp sting at the back of their head and for a sickening moment they realized the sweat coating their hair wasn’t actually sweat at all. “I didn’t think you’d be that easy to take down, if I’m being honest.”
The villain shrugged, somewhat amused as they watched the sidekick’s pale face distort in a mix of unresolved emotions. Eyeing their prisoner up and down from their jail cell of a bed with a look Sidekick had only ever been warned about by Hero before.
Sidekick’s mouth opened and closed, searching for something to say, toying with the idea of talking their way out of a torture session. “Y-You know, Hero is still out there. If you’re looking for them, I-I mean you just missed them—”
“Do they teach you to sell out your superiors immediately in hero school? Or is that just your own last ditch attempt to get away scott-free as a coward?”
Sidekick shut up. Villain had a point, they weren’t exactly painting the best picture for their reputation.
The villain grinned, leaning over the bed and placing a hand against the sidekick’s chest. They let their fingers wander as they spoke, “I will say though, coward or not, you sure are putting this body to waste working for that rat of a hero you call your mentor.”
Their second hand crept up along the sidekick’s torso and the criminal didn’t hesitate to begin slowly unbuttoning their dress shirt. Both of their eyes focused on the bits of skin that were carefully being revealed as they worked the lower buttons apart.
Sidekick’s breath hitched, was Villain seriously hitting on them? What were they doing? What was happening? None of Hero’s master classes could’ve prepared them for this moment.
The further down the villain’s hands went the more the sidekick’s heartbeat picked up. They convinced themselves it was because of the torture that was increasingly impending and not the fact that someone as breathtaking as the villain was, was stripping them down.
They began to struggle, pulling subtly—or so they thought—against their bonds, letting the burn from the rope digging into their skin distract them from the villain’s fingers exploring their body.
Pulling back the fabric of their button-up, Villain revealed the hero-in-training to their hungry eyes. Going straight to teasingly tracing their nails into the sidekick’s skin, relishing in their goosebumps and gasps.
“Sweetheart,” Villain’s eyes flicked to Sidekick’s, digging their nails into their fleshy shoulders hard enough to draw blood. “Don’t pull on the ropes, okay? I guarantee you that my knots are more than strong enough to hold, so be a dear and don’t hurt yourself any more than you already have.”
For some reason, Sidekick stopped, they didn’t fight back harder like they were taught. The villain’s eyes were entrancing and their voice was soft but stern, guiding the sidekick’s actions and thoughts with every word they spoke.
Hero had warned them of that.
Villain smiled, pleased with their captive as they continued their soft tracing of skin. Leaving behind angry, red, crescents on the sidekick’s shoulder in their wake. “Hero spoke of you, but they never mentioned how good you look… What a shame.”
Sidekick’s face burned a beet coloured red. “W-What?”
“Well, I would’ve kidnapped you a lot sooner if I had known~” Villain drawled as if it were obvious and Sidekick cursed their lucky genes.
“But enough chit chat,” the criminal brought their hands back to their sides. “Let’s get back to the real reason you’re here…”
And in a second the sidekick’s heart lurched into their throat at the ‘snap’ of switchblade flipping open.
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cpt-winters · 1 year
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Lil' Bit of Medieval Whump
Whumpee gasped for air as Whumper yanked at the chain, giving it no slack as they strutted across the feasting hall. Whumpee's fingers clenched around the collar tightened around his neck, a futile effort to ease it as Whumper tugged on the chain.
The heavy oak doors slammed closed behind the two, commanding the attention of each of the warriors filling the room.
Whumpee's cheeks flushed crimson at the humiliation as he stumbled behind Whumper, struggling to preserve a slither of dignity by avoiding being dragged toward the Warlord.
"You treat him like a dog," the Warlord sighed as Whumper approached and took their seat to his right, forcing Whumpee to kneel beside them.
"Why shouldn't I? He has been defeated,” Whumper declared proudly, shooting Whumpee a smile as he glared back from his spot on the floor.
"I will choke you with this chain..." Whumpee growled quietly. His gaze was abruptly pulled from the floor as Whumper jerked the chain, forcing their eyes to meet.
"What was that, Knight?" Whumper taunted.
"N-nothing," came the strangled reply.
"Where is your honour, Whumper? “ the Warlord questioned, shaking his head as he took a sip from his goblet. “He was a great warrior.”
"Was, Lord,” Whumper corrected, finally releasing Whumpee from their grip. “And now he may serve as a trophy. Nothing more.”
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abhainnwhump · 2 months
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(Content warnings: Burning alive, implied death, immortal whumpee)
Everything thinks Whumpee is dead, but they're just in a heavily/magically induced sleep. Whumpee's friends decide to cremate their body. Whumpee wakes up in the chamber they're being burned in and scream to get out, pounding on the case.
Bonus points if they have some form of immortality and they are unable to die, just going through it until Whumpee's friends realize what happened. The trust there is forever strained.
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kabie-whump · 1 month
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How about another request, if you're up for it? 👀
Whumpee being kidnapped and used as bait for Caretaker. The kicker? Whumpee thinks it's not gonna work, since they and Caretaker got into a big argument before Whumpee was taken, to which Whumper reassures/taunts that Caretaker will come for Whumpee no matter what.
Then, to Whumpee's surprise and horror, Caretaker did come... and fell right into Whumper's trap trying to free Whumpee. 😈
-- @whumperofworlds
Of course pookie! :3 I'm just gonna continue what I wrote for u last time if u don't mind <3 (Just ignore the part where I said Ventis shows up on his own after a week lol)
Definitely ended up way longer than I intended teehee
Content: kidnapping, stress position + bondage, used as bait, child neglect mention, drug addiction + forced relapse, choking, blood, force feeding (not w food though cause ew)
~~~
Ventis takes stock of his condition. A cloth blindfold stretches across his eyes. His shoulders ache; unsurprising considering his hands are tied with a chain that stretches above him, forcing him to stand on his tip-toes to avoid putting too much pressure on his joints. Being unconscious in this position has probably fucked them up already. He much prefers when kidnappers tie him to chairs or leave him lying on the floor.
The next thing Ventis checks for is his magic. Sometimes he gets lucky and his kidnappers will forget to do anything to suppress it. Others will rely on the old-fashioned gag + blindfold + thoroughly bound hands method. And then there was his least favorite: anti-magic enchantments.
He's blindfolded but not gagged. That leaves two options. There's only one way to find out which situation he has found himself in.
Ventis steels himself, then tries to summon a simple lightning spell. As soon as the first draconic word leaves his mouth, pain shoots from the cuffs through his whole body. He cries out and his knees buckle, putting agonizing pressure on his shoulders until he recovers and goes back to balancing on his toes.
Definitely enchanted. Shit.
"Oh, you're awake." It's a woman's voice, coming from somewhere off to his left.
Ventis gasps for air as he takes note of the way her voice echoes. It sounds like they're inside, and it's far cooler than any building should be in the heat wave the city's been experiencing. He's either been taken somewhere very far away, or he's in a basement. Hopefully the latter.
"If it is ransom you seek, you took the wrong Riinturuth. Father will not pay for me."
Ventis has said those words so many times now that he wonders if there's some list of kidnappable nobles somewhere that he needs to get his name removed from. Just because he's the first son does not mean he's the favorite.
"Oh, I know. Don't worry. That's not what this is about."
That's... odd. "What do you mean?"
"Simple. You're going to help me capture the Ventura boy."
Onthyes. Fuck.
That's the thing about having an important father and being close with someone who also has an important father. Double the kidnapping risk. This scenario has only happened once before, and Onthyes appeared in no time and easily overpowered Ventis's captors.
It was kind of hot, if Ventis is being honest.
But that's not going to happen this time. Not after the argument they'd just had. Especially since Ventis had stated very clearly that he didn't want Onthyes protecting him from everything all the time. Oops.
"I will do no such thing."
"But you're already doing it." The woman's voice is just in front of him now. Ventis flinches away from her. "He knows where you are, and when he comes for you he'll be all mine."
"He will not come for me," Ventis assures her. "This is a waste of your time and mine."
Ventis yelps as an open hand strikes his cheek.
"Don't lie," the woman hisses. "I've been watching him. He's protective of you to a fault. He'll come."
"I did not- '' Ventis's words are cut off by a strong hand gripping his throat, making him squeak and choke, barely able to keep his weight on his toes. Claws prick at the delicate skin.
"He'll come," she says again. "And when he does I'm going to make you watch as I tear open his throat."
"No," Ventis chokes out. "Please. Don't hurt him."
The clawed hand releases its hold and Ventis gasps and coughs. His legs shake from the effort to stay up on his toes.
"Here, open your mouth. This'll make you shut up."
Something is pressed to Ventis's lips and he recognizes it immediately by the smooth texture and faintly sweet smell alone. Nightspill. The very same drug he had just fought to free himself from.
He seals his lips tightly, trying to turn his head away despite the urge to open up and accept his return to the blissful numbness the pill offered. He had worked so hard to get sober. Onthyes and Shayah had worked so hard to help him. He can't go back now.
The woman growls, "Stop being difficult," and digs her claws into Ventis's side. He can't help but scream, and she pushes the pill into his mouth and then covers it with her other hand so he can't spit it out. "Swallow," she demands.
Ventis sobs and shakes his head, trying to twist away from her but only succeeding at making his shoulders burn unbearably from the pull of the chains. She digs her claws deeper and pulls, slicing slowly through his skin.
The blindfold soaks up Ventis's tears as he continues to scream and sob and struggle while still doing everything in his power to resist the urge to swallow. The taste is familiar on his tongue. It's so tempting - it would definitely help to dull the pain he's in.
That one stray thought is all it takes. Ventis swallows before he even realizes what he's doing.
The claws retreat from is side and he can feel hot blood streaming down from the wound. The woman pries his teeth apart, searching his mouth with metallic tasting fingers to make sure the pill is really gone. Ventis tries to bite, but he's too slow and winds up snapping his jaw on nothing.
"There." Ventis's captor sounds entirely unbothered as she steps away. "Maybe that will help you calm down."
Ventis feels panic waking up somewhere deep in his stomach and struggling to fight its way to the surface, but it dies out before his heart rate can even begin to pick up. He's left feeling fuzzy and peaceful and devastated all at the same time.
"Now all we have to do is wait."
They wait for a long time. Ventis's legs shake uncontrollably. His hands go cold and tingly and then numb. The nightspill wants nothing more than to lull him to sleep but every time he starts to doze off he loses concentration on standing on his toes and a blinding pain in his shoulders rips him back to consciousness.
Onthyes isn't coming. Ventis wonders how long it'll take for his captor to realize that and just kill him.
Then- "Let him go!"
Ventis jolts. "Onthyes?" He croaks. That absolute idiot. Does he not know a setup when he sees one? "What are you doing? Get out of here!"
Armor clunks loudly as Onthyes runs up to him. A gloved hand touches his cheek, then pulls off the blindfold.
Ventis blinks spots out of his vision, everything slowly coming into focus as Onthyes fusses over him. "Run," he insists weakly. "Please."
Onthyes ignores him, his brow furrowed as he examines the chains. "I need to find the key. Hang in there."
An involuntary laugh bubbles out of Ventis. "Hah, hang? That is all I can do, my friend."
Onthyes just sighs and shakes his head as he turns away.
That's when Ventis's captor strikes. She emerges from a shadowy corner and pounces on Onthyes, all sharp claws and jagged teeth that barely fit behind her red lips.
Onthyes yelps and staggers backwards as she clings to his back, her claws searching for any holes in his armor. After finding nothing she turns her attention to pulling his hair so hard his head hits a nearby stone wall and he falls to one knee.
Pounding footfalls, followed by a battlecry and the appearance of a hulking half-orc woman - Shayah. "I told you to fucking wait for me," she yells as she rips Onthyes's attacker from his back and throws her across the room. She hits the opposite wall hard and goes still.
Onthyes rushes over to Ventis as Shayah retrieves the key to the cuffs. She barely has to reach to unlock them.
Even nightspill can't dull the pain that follows as Ventis finally lowers his arms and lands on flat feet for the first time in hours.
Sensation rushes back into his limbs and he screams. Onthyes is there to catch him when his knees buckle, holding him and whispering something along the lines of, "It's okay. You're okay. I've got you. I'm so sorry. Just breathe. You're okay."
When the pain finally recedes some Ventis is left gasping and trembling. He lets Onthyes lower him to the floor, too exhausted to support his own weight anymore. Shayah begins to check him over, using some scraps of fabric to stem the bleeding from the claw marks in his side.
She makes eye contact with Ventis, then pauses, a look of concern crossing her face. "Are you on something?" she asks softly, cupping his cheek.
Ventis gives a tired nod. "Nightspill. I'm sorry," he sobs. "I-I didn't want to. She made me."
"Shit," Shayah and Onthyes mutter at the same time.
"I'm sorry," Ventis repeats. "I tried. I really tried."
Onthyes brushes Ventis's hair from his sweaty forehead. "It's alright. We're not upset with you. We'll take care of you."
Onthyes's kind words don't help, not when the echoes of their argument from last night still haunt Ventis. "I-I thought you wouldn't come. After last night-"
"Last night's not important. I'll always come for you. Always. I..." Onthyes looks away, shaking his head. "I should've walked with you. I'm so sorry."
"Alright, boys." Shayah claps her hands, getting both of their attention. "You can wallow in guilt and pretend not to be in love with each other later. Let's get out of here."
"Right." Onthyes takes Ventis into his arms carefully and lifts him up, and Ventis finally nods off with his head lolling against Onthyes's shoulder.
~~~
Next Part
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