#let’s go whumpers

[whump-queen]

good idea: whumper tying their whumpee up and forcing them to cuddle

whumper’s arms wrapped tight and possessive around whumpee’s injured form—too strong to be fought off, or perhaps whumpee is just too weak by this point.

a softly murmured "behave” into the crook of whumpee’s neck while spooning

whumper digging their nails into fresh cuts, getting a whine and hiss in response—but they stop struggling, and whumper leans in close to their ear with a growling murmer— “mmn. good boy.”

whumpee feeling slow kisses pressed into the side of their neck that make their skin crawl

maybe whumpee gets their hands bound in front of them this time, so they can fit in closer against whumper. and its more comfortable too. “shh, let yourself enjoy this.”

whumper cuddling with their hand around whumpee’s throat, not squeezing or anything, just… resting there.

knowing that if they tried to pull away, that hand would tighten instantly and squeeze until whumpee was dizzy and writhing back against them

and size difference… their throat, so small and soft and delicate under whumper’s rough fingertips

the way whumper’s hands would fit around their waist— the way they could press in under their ribs until whumpee is choking and their chest is spasming

whumpee shivering when they feel low whispers in their ear. just… so sticky and possessive

whumpee waking up with sore aching muscles from being kept in the same uncomfortable position all night. they sleepily try and flex their muscles and move around—then they’re hit fully awake with a jolt of cold panic when they realize where they are—and that they still can’t move at all.

waking up with whumper’s arms still tightly wrapped around them and trying desperately to squirm away, before they feel whumper’s hold tighten around them and hear a sleepy possessive growl in their ear, “mnn… no. you stay.”

just… any of the ‘tied up and kept like that’ tropes melt my fucjfen brain

(shoutout @unorganisedalienrubbish for helping inspire today’s episode of terrible sticky intimate whumper shit)

#intimate whumper #posessive whumper #whump prompt #whump scenario #on my sticky posessive whumper shit again— nobody is surprised #this might be like the least violent whump scenario i’ve ever posted #but dw we’ve made up for it with absolutely horrible vibes 🥰 #creepy/intimate whumper #creepy whumper #forced cuddling #whump inspo #prompt list #akia.txt #my prompts #my post #just so I can find this later uwu #I don’t like the tag creepy whumper cuz to me creepy is like a word I use for a straight cis man trying to hit on me at a bar but— #it’s the tag y’all use so #let’s go

[letitbehurt]

Whumpee manages to escape Whumper’s sight for a moment while out in public, and they take the chance to run. Someone stops them on the way, asking what’s wrong, why they’re in such a hurry, and Whumpee begs for their help.

But the stranger knows who Whumpee is, and they feign all the concern in the world as they lead Whumpee right back to Whumper.

#and they’re so excited to tell Whumper everything #can’t imagine the trust issues this will cause between Whumpee and Caretaker in the future… #and that’s if whumpee can ever get a chance to escape again #I can’t imagine Whumper letting that one go #whump

[whumble-beeee]

The Man in the Sweater Vest

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 7

Content: attempted noncon, threatened mouth whump, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, scissors, tied up/handcuffs, noncon unshirtening, noncon touch, past captivity references, graphic threats, blood, crapton of whump. As a treat :)

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[Inevitably, there will be disagreements on how you should treat your captured hero. One villain might want to just hold the hero hostage long enough to finish their dastardly plans. Another will want to break the hero’s will entirely! Or anything else in between! 

But when working together with other villains, bounty hunters, henchmen, etc, it is crucial that everyone is on the same page about how your captured hero is to be treated, lest your hero end up with a few less limbs than you meant them too, or your months of breaking down the hero's fragile mind is undone by a single nice gesture.

Always communicate effectively, your hero will thank you for it (or curse the day you were born)!]

* * * * * * * *

Sweater-vest stumbled back, reeling from the punch and clutching his face before pulling his hands down and gawking at the blood staining his hands.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!!” Stan screamed. 

An intense elation washed through his chest despite the surprisingly sharp exploding pain that crackled up the very bones of his arm when he punched the man, and the now freshly ripped open scabs and bruises from where he’d forgotten to account for the handcuffs and yanked on them violently, streaming new ruby red over dried light brown that already carved down his arms; 

Because he'd got him. He'd got him! Punched him, made him back off! Stan did that! He'd finally managed to actually do something about the atrocities being committed against him and it was so, so sweet. 

Relatively short-lived, though. 

Vaughn, the sweater vest man, started to giggle to himself as he wiped the blood streaming from his nose onto his sleeve. Elation gave way to tentative confusion. Then a sinister seed started to take root in Stan's gut, the roots already reaching out and tightening around his body.

“You-...” Vaughn giggled some more. “You– you think–?...”

He started fully laughing, speech overtaken by an apparent hilarity that Stan must’ve just been too shocked by the sudden mood change to understand. He was cackling. Then practically shrieking, crazy, loud, heaving laughs.

He must be crazy. 

Insane. 

Well and truly insane, the way he was shriek laughing into his shining red-stained hands.

His gaze snapped up to Stan, and Stan could practically hear the horror movie crackling effect with how fast it snapped up, crazy maniacal shudders still overtaking his body, piercing gaze turned wide, animalistic.

“You think you can HURT ME?! HURT ME?! AHAHAHAHA!!”

Suddenly Stan slammed into the wall, cuffed wrists pinned above his head, chest to chest with the crazy man and staring up into his crazy bloodshot eyes.

“You can't hurt me,” he growled into Stan’s ear through gritted teeth. ”I don't feel pain. I carved that weakness out a long time ago, my brain doesn’t register it anymore! And I did it so I could deal with horrible little brats like you–” he slammed Stan's wrists into the wall, “--however I see fit! So I could do whatever I wanted to them. So that even if they fight back, they always, always, always lose.”

He pulled back and leaned into Stan's face, staring the captive directly in his glaringly defiant, wide and shining eyes. Hot shaking breaths misted surprisingly minty breath onto Stan’s cheeks, nearly overpowered by the metallic tang of blood that still poured down his face.

“Always submit. Just like you're going to.”

Stan pulled down hard against Vaughn's grasp, struggling and wiggling and tugging and screaming and kicking and doing every single little thing he could to, if not escape, at least make this as difficult as possible.

“Get away from me!" He cried. "GET AWAY FROM ME, get OFF of me, I’m not gonna let you do this you sadist, you can’t do this to me!! LET GO–!”

A punch to the gut. Stan tried to double over and wheezed as much as he could with his arms pinned up, which delivered him right into another punch to the face.

 Then something cool and sharp stabbed into the soft underside of his chin, straining his neck with how far his head pushed back into the wall.

“This is why I like to keep my victims gagged,” Vaughn gritted. “That bounty hunter of yours never does it, no matter how I tell him to. Always has to do stuff his own way, never listens. All he does is talk talk talk, always has a retort for everything. So defiant, and so is every single subject he brings in.”

A dull aching throb emanated from where Stan’s head pressed into the wall. Black spots dotted his vision. 

“You–... y-you can't–”

The scissors pulled back and dove toward Stan's mouth, eliciting a loud cut-off scream of revolt as he cowered and squeezed his eyes shut from some vain, animalistic instinct to protect himself. 

Then he pried open his eyes again, confused when no cutting metallic pain ripped through the fragile flesh of his face.

The handle of the scissors were fuzzy, too close for his eyes to focus.

They weren’t that far into his mouth.

Just enough that if Stan tried to close it, his teeth would clip on the tip of the metal blades instead. 

The scissors lifted slowly, tapping on his top teeth, tilting his head up until he stared into Vaughn’s metallic blue eyes once more.

“I could always prep your throat with these if you like,” he drawled softly, letting go of Stan’s cuff chain and instead lightly grasping his thumb and forefinger under Stan’s chin, forcing his mouth open further. A small sob crackled out from Stan’s throat. 

“It would be so easy… I could just–” 

The scissors lurched further into Stan’s mouth, and Stan let out another involuntary squeak and an open-mouthed, unintelligible pleading of “no, no, no, no…” as tears started to sting at his eyes.

But he let him do it. 

He even still held his arms up, because surely if he tried to fight back now, with the scissors in his mouth quite literally pinning him to the wall… He didn’t even want to think of the consequences.

“Careful, dropje. Wouldn’t want to cut yourself. Be quiet, be still, be good for me, right? You can be good for me? You can finally shut the hell up. No more fighting.”

He let go of Stan's chin and let his hands wander lower, caressing Stan’s sides, the curve of his waist, making his entire body tense and shudder. His breathing turning loud and shallow as he cringed away. 

Vaughn just giggled.

“See? Isn’t this better? You’re not getting hurt, you’re doing what I say…” His fingers slipped under the waistband of Stan’s pants again. Slower this time. More deliberate. 

It took all of Stan's willpower to not start hyperventilating at what he knew was about to happen. He knew. It was always this, wasn’t it?

Vaughn’s voice lowered as he leaned closer, pressing his body into Stan’s. He could feel the fibers of the stupid damn sweater vest against his stomach, deceptively soft, almost pleasant. The hard blade of the scissors tapped on the tip of his nose. “Because you physically have no other–”

BANG!!

Stan screamed. 

Vaughn screamed. 

The ghost of the gunshot echoed off the cinderblock walls. 

Vaughn also nearly fell backward, pushing off of Stan just in time for Stan to fall to the floor in a duck-and-cover position and pray to whatever gods would listen that his last day on earth wouldn't have been spent dealing with two of the worst people he'd ever had the displeasure of being kidnapped by.

Wait, scratch that, his knee reminded him. He'd had worse.

His heart threatened to jump out of his chest completely, but he finally realized that in fact, he was still alive. So he opened his eyes to what he never thought to be one of the most beautiful sights in the world;

Deeby. 

Gun pointed to the sky and streaming a light grey smoke into a small puff of explosion that hadn't had time yet to dissipate. 

“What in the ever-loving SHIT are you doing?!” he shouted.

He was completely maskless, face now on full display, fiery eyes matching his equally fiery sneer. The sudden absence of the mask almost scared Stan more than the gunshot, the sight making his heart beat in his throat.

Then, for just a split second, Deeby's enraged eyes met Stan's stare. His eyes scanned down his body, looking him up and down, his face changing ever so slightly when his gaze caught in Stan’s chest. A slight crinkle of the eyebrows, a small tilt of the head. Then his eyes widened in some sort of realization, and Stan felt his heart turn to ice. 

Recognition.

No. 

He couldn't have realized who he was. 

Just because of the binder?!

Stan choked on his own throat as the collar suddenly constricted once more and he was dragged violently forward to his knees.

“Your fucking dog punched me in the face!” Vaughn shouted, jangling Stan around enough that he had to grab the collar just to gain back his breath.

“Just because–!” 

Vaughn jolted Stan's collar back hard and cut him off with a violent gag.

“I was disciplining him.” Vaughn narrowed his eyes at the mercenary. “Like we're supposed to.” 

Deeby’s jaw set. And still, he managed to find a slight smug smile within his fury. “That why your face is gushing blood, then? Disciplined him too hard?”

Stan didn't even realize when they started, but tears were practically streaming down his cheeks now, chest heaving in panic. “Deeby, Deeby, he was gonna–”

“Shut up!”

A kick this time, straight to the back of his spine, and Stan's throat strained hard into the collar before breaking free of Vaughn's grasp and nearly face-planting into cold concrete. He scrambled to get up, but the same foot planted on his back and slammed his chest right back to the floor, grinding the heel of its shoe into the captive’s spine. Stan clutched at the ground, screams barely bit back by force of sheer willpower.

“Christ, man! Stop it, get off!” Deeby yelled with uncharacteristic urgency.

The force pinning him down suddenly released, followed by the scattered footfalls of someone catching themself from nearly falling over. 

Stan just lay there limp. Heaving and shivering. He couldn't move. His limbs felt like heavyweights, the world tilted on it’s axis, and he was sure that if he lifted his head up, he would lose every last morsel of that protein bar he'd shoved down earlier.

But at least now no one was methodically turning him into a fine red mist anymore. 

Deeby stood between the two of them like an impenetrable stone wall, hand resting on the unlatched holster of his gun and pointedly ignoring Vaughn’s stuttering disbelief as he patted at the pockets of his jacket, pulling various probably very sharp things out and shoving them into his pants pockets.

Protecting him.

“You– You just–...” Vaughn finally composed himself. “You pushed me off! You're saving him? He needs to be taught a lesson!”

Stan tried to push up despite the dizziness. “Only–... D-Deeby, he was trying–”

“Shut up, Stan, I know, let me handle it! Here.” Deeby slid his jacket off and dropped it practically on top of his captive’s head, never once letting his gaze slip from Vaughn. Stan shakily pulled the brown leather of the jacket over his shoulders before he had time to think better of it, doing his best to just enjoy the show and not think about the implications of what was currently happening.

 “Because he wouldn't let you put your dick in him without a fight, right?” The bounty hunter said sarcastically. “Or– or– or because he wasn’t gonna let you mouth-gore him without complaint? Let you ‘teach him a lesson?’ Yeah, I am stopping you. Piece of shit.” The bounty hunter grabbed the scissors off the floor where they landed when Vaughn dropped them after the gunshot. Then he used them to point sharply at the door. 

“Get out.”

Vaughn scoffed and melodramatically rolled his eyes.

“You got the message from Lana then? Is that why you're acting like such a belligerent wittle babeee?” Vaughn posited in his most obnoxious baby voice.

Deeby bristled. Stan could've sworn for a moment he could see the man shaking. 

“Yes,” he said, slowly. “I talked to Lana. Your useless job is done. You can go back to being an even more useless sidepiece now.”

Vaughn’s shoulders tensed, and he laughed.

“Good! And I’ll make sure to tell Lana all about you taking the side of the disobedient dog of a test subject–”

“Yeah, go cry to your girlfriend about it, he's under my jurisdiction and I'm not gonna let you fuck that up because you feel the need to live out your perverse power fantasy with the helpless people you kidnap and torture. As if it isn’t torture enough to have to be in the same room with you at all.”

Vaughn clenched his fists at his side and forced on the worst imitation of a smile Stan had ever borne witness to.

“You better watch your tone, Deathberry,” he said, sickly sweet voice doing nothing to mask the hissing rage. “I could have you in the same spot as him in ten seconds. Don't ever–” he jabbed Deeby in the chest. “–forget that. You're only allowed to be out here roaming around with your fancy gun and your fancy cowboy boots because you're useful, otherwise you'd be locked up with the rest–”

Vaughn had just started to reach for the holster on Deeby's belt when, faster than Stan could perceive, a flurry of movement between the two men, a cry of surprised fear, the shuffling of feet and spinning of bodies and suddenly Vaughn was pinned back first to Deeby's chest, a wire that Deeby pulled from somewhere stretched taut between his fists and pressing a hard line directly under into the skin of Vaughn's throat.

Vaughn's hands quickly flew up to the wire to try and pull it off his throat, then just as quickly let go when he realized the wire would sooner cut through his hands before it would be pried off.

Stan couldn't help but stare.

“You're just about at the end of my rope, Verhulst,” Deeby growled, accent fully presiding now as he stepped backward and pulled Vaughn toward the door. “Don't you ever put your filthy hands on my gun.”

A slight rasp to Vaughn's voice was the only thing that denoted anything was amiss. “You sure this is about the gun, Deebs? Sure you're not taking your frustrations at Lana out on me?” 

“Trust me, if I was takin’ my frustrations at Lana out on you, bud, you'd be dead.”

Vaughn's eyes shot to Stan, and his smile broadened. 

“Ohhhh, I see. So what then, you are falling for the captive? I'm sure Lana would love to hear about how you're going soft, how you miss her, and how spectacularly you're failing at finding someone better so you have to–”

A small gurk finding its way from Vaughn's throat as he was pulled to a sudden stop.

“You know what, maybe I am. And maybe you should use your mouth to do something not completely useless for once.” He spun the both of them around to face Stan again. 

“Apologize to ‘im.”

What?

Vaughn stared at Stan, apparently more stunned by the notion of apologizing than the motion of having a garot wire to his throat. Stan… honestly had to agree.

“Come again?”

“Apologize to Stan. For tryin’ to rape him. It's the least you could do.”

“You want me to… apologize?? To the test subject? You really are losing it, Deathberry, let me go.”

The wire dug into his throat more. “Say sorry, doctor.”

Vaughn glared at Stan. Stan glared back as well as he could.

“I can't feel the pain of this, you know,” Vaughn's voice came, even raspier. “You're not doing anything.”

“You can still bleed out from a slit throat. Still drown to death in your own blood as it slowly fills your lungs,” Deeby dismissed lightly. “Still bleed out. Very quickly. I wonder what would happen if I hit your carotid–

“And I wonder how Lana would feel about you slitting her head scientist and boyfriend’s throat.”

“Probably call you a little bitch boy for invoking her name every time you need to defend yourself like a spoiled toddler ‘steada bein’ a man about it and defending yourself. Or maybe not. You’d never know, you’d be dead.”

“You wouldn't–”

Deeby twitched the wire across Vaughn's throat and a line of red bloomed across the light tan of his neck. Vaughn's face grew just a little bit paler. He brought his hands up to graze across the wire and felt the warm wetness smear across his fingertips.

“Apologize.” Deeby growled. “Now.”

Vaughn's eyes flitted back to Stan, fully appraising the wonderfully wide-eyed mess he'd had pinned against the wall only moments before. 

He narrowed his eyes. 

Took a deep breath. 

Stared daggers directly into Stan's soul.

“Sorry.”

Oh you bastard.

“Go jump off a cliff!” Stan yelled, erratically reaching into the jacket pocket he'd seen Deeby pull the protein bar out of earlier and luckily finding many more, one of which was immediately thrown directly at Vaughn. He couldn't even attempt to dodge it, and it hit him directly in the chest. 

The mercenary let out a singular loud laugh and spun Vaughn back around, letting the wire retract into what Stan now realized was a little housing box on his weird arm sleeve thing and shoving Vaughn at the door as hard as he could.

“Guess he doesn't forgive you. Better luck next time!” he laughed. Stan genuinely thought (and hoped) Sweater-vest would fall flat on his face, but he managed to grab the door and right himself before that happened. Shame.

“Now get out.” Deeby said.

Vaughn glared with a literal snarl, jaw half a second away from cracking in two. Right before he took a slow, deep breath and reset his features to a forced neutral. Then an easy smile. “As you wish, my liege.” 

He bowed exaggeratedly low in a show of mock respect, retrieving his scissors from the ground in a surprisingly graceful sweeping motion as he went. Deeby just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and Stanny?” He drawled, peeking back from the door as he left and pointing his scissors directly at Stan's face with a flourish. “I look forward to seeing you soon~.” 

“Get outta here!” Deeby yelled with a threatening stomp toward the door, at the same time Stan stuttered out a very surprised and agitated “In hell!”

The door slammed shut. 

Stan could swear he could still hear Vaughn's deranged laugh echoing through the room even as an eerie silence fell over them.

He was finally gone. Finally.

See you soon.

He didn't completely understand why his breath continued to quicken. He'd won that encounter, right? Or… well, Deeby had. But still.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

He felt dizzy. More than the concussion could have caused. This was different, made him feel like he was suffocating, even though Vaughn was no longer here to strain the collar against his throat. Yet he could still feel the knuckles digging into the back of his neck.

I look forward to seeing you soon. In hell.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything | @paperprinxe

#whump #heroes and villains #whump writing #whumper #whumpee #hero whump #defiant whumpee #kidnapping whump #captivity whump #trans whumpee #disabled whumpee #(un)official guide #attempted noncon #noncon undressing #IT'S BACK BABYYYY #GAH I've been so excited to post this #I missed this so much #extra long and extra whumpy for all your waiting #whos idea was it to let me go on an accidental month long hiatus #WHO WAS IT #anyway I'm going into tech week irl for the musical i'm in #so I might not get to the next chapter next weekend #I'll definitely try to tho #I genuinely missed writing and posting this story too. I've got so much more of it to tell #anyway I hope you like this chapter it was a bitch to wring it out of me but I did it #and its glorious #Also vaughn is such a cringefail I love him so much #and we've got some secret hidden Deeby lore sprinkled in there! #making this like an easter egg hunt #did you find it?

[cepheusgalaxy]

Caretaker who is a part of a group of assassins, or maybe another armed group. They have a mission and go with a partner to get a target. Caretaker's partner insists on it despiste Caretaker not wanting to, and they take an opportunitg where the target's family is involved. The target's child and spouse... On the end, they end up traumatizing a child and possibly killing/hurting the spouse and killing the target. Caretaker then rebels against their partner because what they did was WRONG and now they ran away--quit the group--and took the child, Whumpee, under their wing.

"I did not want to do that".

Whumpee looks up at them, their eyes bloodshot and filled with rage.

"It was a simple decision for you, wasn't it? Destroy someone's life or no. It wouldn't be that big of a deal, would it?" Their voice was filled with sarcasm.

Caretaker couldn't bear to look at them.

"I'm-I'm sorry."

Whumpee looked away and didn't spoke to then for the rest of the night.

#inspired by Heroes #the old show old stan lee helped writing #ep. 17 #when the politial and nuclear man go to claires house #and with a simple decision decide to attack their target #i was thinking on how easily their little convenience could be the difference of traumatizing a bunch of children-claire and a little boy- #or letting them grow healthy #whumpee #caretaker #assassin caretaker #whumper turned caretaker #carewhumper #accidental caretaker #whump prompts #found family #maybe? #i was watching heroes #death mention #whump

[cryptids-lobelia-garden]

Thinking about a whumpee who was built out of the corpses of his past lives.

He has part of a horrible evil person in him, he was built with the pieces of that person’s corpse. And he knows it, and he does everything in his power to be better than that person was. He does everything he can to fix the pain that person caused. He’s not that person, not really, but he can’t help but feel responsible for what it did, because in a way, he is.

He also has part of a person that person hurt in him. Both the abuser and the abused, both of their memories, both of their pain, both of their fears, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s both of them in a way, but he’s also not either of them. They’re both dead, but they live on in him, but he’s also his own person.

Thinking about this whumpee being so terrified of hurting anyone that he closes himself off and isolates himself. Thinking about him feeling awful about things that weren’t his fault, because those actions weren’t his actions, but they were his past life’s actions that he remembers. Thinking about him feeling awful that he couldn’t protect the people around him from it, even though it was never his fault in the first place.

Thinking about him having a bad mental day and getting intrusive violent thoughts, getting random memories of hurting people when he looks around. He’s very quiet on those days, and he isolates himself even more.

Thinking of him feeling like he doesn’t deserve love or care, because his past lives ended up hurting or being unable to protect everyone they loved or cared for. Thinking of him being terrified of being like the past life, so he avoids being close to anyone completely, sticking with helping the people he hurt.

Thinking about him letting the people their past life hurt hurt him and not retaliating, because the past life is dead, but a piece of it lives on in him, and he believes this is the only way some of the people his past life has hurt can get closure, and he’s also so terrified of hurting these people again and being like that past life that he can’t retaliate. Thinking of the past life SCREAMING in his head to hit them back, and the other has a sick sense of satisfaction, and he won’t do anything because part of him feels vindicated about this. Knows this is also hurting the piece of his past life that lives on. It’s so fucked up but part of him feels better when it happens, because even if he himself doesn’t deserve it, he knows his past life does.

Anyway, I’m brainrotting over this one character, and if you know who this is about, no you don’t. HAHA

#whump prompt #past life #psychological whump #whumper turned whumpee #sort of #whump #yeah I. am Hyperfixating on one specific character #he needs to start paying rent bc like. he wont go away #also I’m not gonna say who he is bc people will judge me but like. if you know #let me know

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Wildefire: The Worst Thing

cw: discussed/referenced prison whump and abuse; manipulative whumper, bluntly discussed noncon

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

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"What's the worst thing they did to you, Alexei?" Uriah was standing behind him, unwelcome hands light on his shoulders. The muscle there still ached from his most recent punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Lex's answer was automatic. Flat words with no emotion behind them; flat hope that Uriah would let him walk away from this conversation.

"Of course you do," Uriah pressed, amusement in his voice. "You spent a year in the Tower. I want to hear about it. I want to know what you're so afraid of."

"Why?" 

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer without having to explain myself."

Lex grit his teeth. "Why?" he repeated. He already knew the answer. Because I want to use it against you. Because I can.

Uriah clicked his tongue. "You won't like my answer," he said. "Or maybe you will. I think sending you back is too dramatic for a first offense, so I want something else. Something I can do to you when you step out of line."

(Brine, mine, spine.)

Of course Fox had the audacity to ask him to name this future punishment. Because why else would he bring it up, if he wasn't planning on using it? Lately it seemed like he'd been watching Lex like a hawk. Waiting for a slip up. A mistake. Defiance that was a shade too dark.

Uriah gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Alexei? I'm waiting."

"Beatings," he muttered, hoping it would be enough, knowing it wouldn't. 

Sure enough, Uriah didn't relinquish his grip, instead giving a squeeze and letting out a short chuckle. "Really? Is that what you're so afraid of? Is that what's keeping you behaving? You're afraid to take a beating?" He leaned in. "You come back from half your assignments black and blue and unbothered. Tell me the truth."

(Booth, forsooth, uncouth.)

The truth. What the fuck was he supposed to say? There were worse days than others, there were worst days, but there was nothing about the Tower itself that could be replicated in a single punishment. It was the tiny, dark, empty cell. It was the guards, who could barge in at any fucking hour and do whatever they wanted to him. It was the uncertainty brought on by each day, not knowing if he was destined for a beating or a showing or being hauled blindfolded down the stairs to be abandoned with a rich stranger. It was the damned silence.

"Rentals," he tried again. It was close. It was vague. It was enough that Uriah could fill in the blanks and take his own fucking pick without dragging Lex into it.

"Rentals, hm?" Uriah said. "I know the program well."

No shocker there. Lex wouldn't be surprised if Uriah was one of the many shareholders who got a cut of Rentals' profits.

"What did you hate about Rentals then?"

"Blindfold," Lex answered shortly. (Cold, sold.)

"Only that? I suppose I understand it, but it's hardly enough to act as a behavioral deterrent." His mouth was millimeters from Lex's ear now, words hot on his skin, insistent. "And I don't believe you. Tell me."

Lex inhaled, hating the way his breath shook. He could lie. He could find something easier and hope Uriah took the bait, but deep down he knew it would never be enough.

"I think you know," he said hoarsely. "I think you already know. You just want me to fucking say it."

He swore he could feel the smile that crept across Uriah's face. "Maybe I do."

Lex swallowed. He felt like a statue, hard and frozen, muscles so tightly coiled he might explode. And that was exactly what Uriah wanted. Something he could punish. Because he liked the rush that came from flaunting his power over Lex, or because of pure sadism. It didn't matter. He wouldn't give the other man the satisfaction.

"They touched me," he spat. "Held me down when I couldn't fucking fight back." (Crack, hack, lack, track, smack.)

Uriah was silent, breath in his ear, hands still firm on his shoulders. Waiting for him to continue.

"I was whipped and then raped," Lex finally said, and even just the word felt like a razorblade on his tongue. That was what Uriah wanted. To force him to acknowledge it, to remember it, to understand what the threat was. To prove that he held all the power, even in conversation.

"And that was the worst thing?" Fox murmured, though satisfaction was plain in his voice.

"What do you think?"

A hand slid down his back and lifted his shirt. Lex tensed, but Uriah only hmmd.

"I don't see any scars."

"They had to bring in a healer. Thought I wasn't gonna make it. Don't know why they bothered."

At last, he felt Fox pull away from him, cool air on his back in the man's absence.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" Uriah was beside him now, taking slow steps until he and Lex were face to face. And then he stood there. Two feet away. Pristine suit and tie, hands clasped casually behind his back, eyes bright and malicious. The pressure building in Lex's chest, the fear he was trying to ignore, had built into something heavy that pounded against the inside of his skull.

"Well. There you have it. Push your luck too far, and I won't send you back to the Tower. Not the first time." He reached out, curling a finger under Lex's chin, and it took everything he had to not recoil at the touch.

"But I don't want you thinking I'm afraid to go as far as they did if you ever defy me again."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

tag list:

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes

#uriah is fun to write because of how horrible he is #the most violent he's personally been with lex is just a slap but he can order someone else to do it just like *that* #and the threat of going back is enough to manipulate lex into pretty much anything #and he thoroughly enjoys every bit of power he has #ill probably let lex kill him someday #as a treat #wildefire #alexei wilder #whump writing #assassin whumpee #tw manipulation #creepy whumper #tw noncon mention #prison whump #heroes and villains #noncon touching

[fyodorkitkat]

Would you guys still love me if I formally wrote one of my whumper!Lewis/whumpee!Fyodor scenarios before my actual s/i introduction fic.

#they arent a whumper normally but i maybe have made him go off the rails for funsies in some of my notes app stories and i am mentally #unwell now. also shoutout to kai for letting me share one of them and being encouraging when im deranged that combined with this episode #look it is that or fyosig and fyosig i would be starting from nothing rn instead of a partially fleshed out personal horror show draft #i said 2 to 5 business days sorry i need to take a break or im going to accomplish absolutely nothing in the next few days #i mean did you see? did you hear? hello #wait im making a new tag sry yall #-whump on main #ill try to remember to use it i still am not putting any of the heavy stuff from my other blog dont worry but if you dont want to see #things if i do end up writing any scenarios and when i start posting my fyoya fic pls block that tag 🙏💜 #take care of yourselves

[egg-writes-whump]

NO

NO I DON’T WANT WHUMPER REDEMPTION ARCS I WANT WHUMPEE CORRUPTION ARCS I’M TALKING WHUMPEES BEING TIRED OF BEING THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY THAT IS THEIR LIFE AND CHOOSING TO BE THE VILLAIN I WANT WHUMPEES WHO GO INSANE FROM THEIR TRAUMA AND SNAP I WANT WHUMPEES WHO HAVE BEEN LIED TO

I WANT WHUMPEES BECOMING VILLAINS AND TURNING ON THEIR FRIENDS

#yes ok you can redeem them again after BUT LET THEM GO APE SHIT FIRST #Egg writes whump #whump #whump prompts #whump prompt #tw caps #tw caps lock #whumpee turned whumper #insane whumpee #villain whumpee #hero turned villain

[whump-queen]

“You did so well”

It’s the way whumper says it—the way they speak to whumpee. It’s their voice—half the time angry, biting, and degrading, only to mutate into something sickeningly sweet in the aftermath of the pain, when whumper leans in close with sticky murmurs of affection—of mocking praise.

A toxic, slimy liquid that drips from whumper’s lips and oozes thick and heavy down whumpee’s ears and neck and shoulders.

It makes whumpee’s skin crawl. 

Or at least, it did.

At first. 

But there comes a point, during the more creative of whumper’s tortures, where the pain becomes too much, where the excruciating burn of the knife or the sear of the brand is blacking out whumpee’s brain and shoving their head deep underwater, shrinking their existence down through a tiny pinhole, only to be materialized again on the other side, dazed beyond belief, panting and shaking and still bound in whumper’s arms. 

It’s those precious few moments of reprieve in the aftermath, where the warmth of whumper’s shoulder against their cheek is enough for whumpee to sink into it— For their teeth to unclench, for their shoulders to slump against whumper’s torso, for their shaking knees to crumple into whumper’s lap.

For each part of them to give up—to give in— until they’re spilling hot tears into the fabric between shaking, heaving breaths, staining whumper’s shirt with the small beads of blood that still weep from their bitten lip.

Whumper only holds whumpee’s head tightly against their shoulder and let’s them ride out the sobs. 

tags—>

taglist: @whumpshaped  @whumpsday  @emmettnet  @a-whump-sideblog  @whump-it-like-its-hot  @wolfeyedwitch  @whumper-soot @unorganisedalienrubbish  @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter @ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @oriantthegiant @banditosong @anonymustyou @feralwhump @jieunie-23 @whumpasaurus101 @morning-star-whump @whmp @captain-bo-bob-bobby @the-beasts-have-arrived just ask to be added or removed <33

#intimate whumper #whump aftermath #creepy whumper #whump writing #its just my brain thoughts #serving out that farm to table whump thoughts #you’re getting it hot and fresh straight from my hippocampus #whump thoughts #whump drabble #is this even a drabble #I just love intimate whumper tropes #creepy/intimate whumper #king of run on sentences let’s go #this got longer than I intended and I hate that I know tumblr is gonna cut off the post half way through but it’s rly not that long eeee #pls read the end it’s my favorite part 🥺 #:<<<< #i’m like happy I actually managed to write smth— even if it’s short #i’ve got a bunch of these like short lil things coming soon from the notes app so #we doing our best folks :) #my post #knife mention #tw knives #implied torture #torture #whump #whump inspo #I still can’t hear out of my right ear ://// #and mucinex is like $17 wtFF #sir I am CONGESTED not RICH #akia.txt

[iwritewhump]

whumptember day one

title: and then there were two

prompts used: “let me go”, taken hostage, chained, behind bars

characters: whumpee, whumper, henchman

warnings: cursing

628 words 

part 2

~

Whumpee slammed their fists against the bars of the cage and shouted. They shouted again and rattled the door, hoping that, somehow, this time they’d break it and be able to leave before Whumper came back. When the door stayed unbroken, Whumpee growled in frustration and paced around the cell. 

A door opened in the distance and Whumpee stood right in front of the bars, face nearly touching the grimy metal as they glared at the heavy door Whumper would walk through any second. 

Henchman opened the door for Whumper and they walked in, “Hope you don’t mind the dirty cell. I didn’t expect company until later this week.”

Whumpee ignored them. “Let me go.” 

“Sorry, can’t do that until Caretaker comes to get you. This is sorta a hostage type thing here.” Whumper said, mocking sympathy as they stood nearly face to face with Whumpee. “I just sent them the note, so they should be here in…two, maybe three hours? How could we pass the time?” 

They sighed and tiled their head to the side, eyes closed in thought. Whumpee thought of punching Whumper through the bars, but before they raised their arm, Whumper had opened their eyes and was smiling evilly. 

“I have just the thing.” 

They walked out of the room and the door closed with a deafening “thud” and Whumpee was left alone once again. They kicked the dirt at their feet and huffed until the door opened once again. This time, Whumper entered pushing a small rolling tray in front of them. 

“I couldn’t decide which one I wanted to try, so I brought them all. There’s probably enough time.” They adjusted the brakes on the cart and stood in front of the cage’s door. “Now, are you going to be good when I unlock this or am I going to need to use this?” they asked, pointing to what looked like a shock collar. 

“Take a fucking guess.” 

Whumper sighed and nodded. “That’s what I figured you’d say.” 

They grabbed the collar and something else from the cart that Whumpee didn’t get a good look at. Whumper grunted and shoved something through the bars of the cage and Whumpee crumpled to their knees. 

The door was quickly unlocked and Whumpee was collared before they could comprehend what had happened. Whumpee recovered fast, standing up before Whumper had a chance to throw the shock stick out of Whumpee’s reach. 

They grabbed it from Whumper’s hand and jabbed it towards Whumper’s rib cage, but before they made contact, they crumpled to the ground. 

Whumper snatched the rod from their hands and held up the remote to the collar, shaking it slowly in their hand. 

“And that was the lowest setting.” they taunted. 

They waved Henchman inside the room to help them with whatever they were going to do. Whumpee looked around Whumper’s legs and inspected the cart. 

Whumper snorted and shook their head before waving their hand at Henchman. They nodded and grabbed Whumpee harshly by the hair, pulling their head up and shoving them against a wall. They pulled a handkerchief out of their pocket and tied it tightly over Whumpee’s eyes. 

Whumpee sat there on the dirty ground, waiting for Whumper to do something. Chains rattled somewhere in the room and Whumpee held their head up high. They wouldn’t let Whumper see how scared they were. Henchman laughed and grabbed Whumpee’s ankles. 

Whumpee kicked out, trying to land a hit, but Henchman was stronger than they’d anticipated. They held Whumpee’s feet down and clasped manacles around their ankles, then they did the same to their wrists. Whumpee fought against them, but all they succeeded in doing was tiring themself out. 

The door slammed again and Whumper hummed, “And then there were two.” 

#whumptember #whumptember2022 #whump #whump fic #whump blurb #whumpee #whumper #henchman #behind bars #chained #taken hostage #'let me go' #iwritewhump #my writing

[obsessedwithegos]

Saw a couple of Emil posts- the biting one is the one I’m most interested in. May I vampire bite him please? On the neck if that’s acceptable, but y’know I’m not picky.

OH ABSOLUTELY!!!!

~~~~

TW: Downplaying trauma, Panic attack esc symptoms

Tael is more than thrilled to bring you down into the basement to meet Emil. He treats this as if you're just another one of his friends as he takes Emil's collar off.

However when Emil tries to stands up, Tael puts a hand on his shoulder to force him back down onto his knees and runs his other hand into the vampire's hair to force his head to the side so you have direct easy access to his neck.

It doesn't take long for Emil to realize what's happening and he starts to struggle as you get closer.

"Stay still." Tael warns through gritted teeth, causing Emil to stiffen. "I really don't get why this is so scary for you, you're already a vampire. It's not like it's going to kill you." He added on as if it wasn't a big deal.

Emil's already struggling to not let himself shake as you get close to his neck, his heart is pounding in his chest and tears are gathering in his eyes.

When you bite down, sinking your fangs into his neck, his yelp gets caught in his throat and comes out almost like a strangled sob.

Depending on if other vampires blood is edible to you or not, his blood may taste basic with really nothing remarkable about it; similar to how human bloods tastes to other humans. Or it might have more of a savory taste at first with a sweet aftertaste, as a result of what Tael feeds him in between blood feedings. Depending on your tastes, this may or may not be enjoyable!

Regardless if you feed or if you let go, Emil is crying. He couldn't hold it back anymore as he's already struggling with trying to stay still to not make it even worse.

When you do let go of him, Tael lets go of him as well, allowing him to drop to the floor. His hands go to the wound, trying to clamp down tightly on it. He's sobbing and shaking, it sounds like he's trying to get words out but they're lost in his sobs and gasps for air.

He doesn't even seem to think to use his own spit to stop the bleeding, despite having had used it before for previous injuries.

If either you or Tael try to speak or interact with him, he doesn't respond. He's too lost in his own panic.

General: @emmettnet @thebluejaysworld

#owe answers #anonymous #emil tag #tael tag #vampire whumpee #asker whumper #ask to tag #i know there's a way to better describe what Emil is going through at the end but it's honestly slipping my mind rn #so if anyone needs it tagged a certain way PLEASE let me know #whump #whump tag #vampire whumper #i gotta say. I LOVE how the biting asks are so polite!!!!! #Such polite biters!!!!! #:D!!! #downplaying trauma #character interaction tag

[oddsconvert]

May 17th - "Let's go back inside"

Garotte | Forced to watch | Carried

@themerrywhumpofmay

CW: Lab whump, captivity, escape attempt, failed escape, garrotte, asphyxiation, guns, swearing, mentions of blood and injuries, self sacrifice, restraints (I feel like I've missed some, pls lemme know if I have <3

-

Hollering klaxons screeched behind the pair sprinting in their desperate escape through the woods; running on pure adrenaline alone, pushing past the burning agony that running inflicted on their mangled, broken limbs. Caretaker's body screamed at them to stop, devoid of any energy, unknown chemicals still filtering through their blood, battered and bruised beyond belief and they could only imagine how exhausted Whumpee must be. The short and raspy pants of breath only just masked under the echoes of the ravenous, barking dogs and shouting men roaring orders to track down the escaped experiments.

They had to get away from that lab, they had to get Whumpee to somewhere safe - even if trying meant dying. Caretaker resented the idea of sulking in their cell day in day out, completely helpless as they watched Whumpee's physical and mental state rapidly decline. Every time they were whisked out for unspeakable experiments, they were inevitably heaved back in, days sometimes weeks later with a more violent tremble than before, plagued with vicious scars and wounds, fresh blood painting their entire body and resigning more and more each time. They had even begun cowering and shaking whenever Caretaker simply tried to talk to them or even call their name. That was the final straw, and so Caretaker put their plan into action.

But whumpee wasn't coping with the escape, they were in a far worse shape than caretaker - their face drained of all colour, their lips cracked and split. Dark bags cushioning their sunken in eyes from not being allowed the privilege of sleep despite the times they would beg and bargain for just an hour to close their eyes. They half limped, half-jogged their way through the sludging dirt with struggled hyper-ventilations. Hot tears blurring their vision as they bit down on their tongue and pushed through the excruciating pain, only focusing on the possibility of going back to their life. Caretaker could hear the diminished whimpers and gasps of pain coming from whumpee, a lump forming in their throat as they wanted to just carry them to safety but it would slow them down, they just needed to run.

"We have to keep going! We can't afford to slow down now!" Caretaker encouraged, the pair exchanging an exhausted but hopeful glare as they dashed and swerved between lines of trees, ensuring they don't snag on a root and trip like some cliche scene in a horror movie.

Whumpee lets out an ear-piercing scream as their body goes flying back towards the ground and choking out a cough from the harsh impact, something lurching out from behind the trunk of a tree and yanking them back by the collar of their scrubs. In a flash, an armed guard dives on top of a dazed whumpee and wrestles them onto their back as they cry out and groan from the heavy pressure weighing on top of them. Caretaker stops running the second they hear the wails erupting from behind them, spinning on the spot to see whumpee pinned to the floor, straddled on their back by a guard and a long length of cord being wrapped between their two knuckles.

The noises that choke out from whumpees vocal chords are almost animalistic as their assaulter begins garrotting them with the cord, they screech in panic, howling and choking as they writhe around in panic stricken jolts and twitches, trying to throw the man off their back and welcome beautiful oxygen back into their lungs.

Caretaker knew that stealing the gun off the guard they knocked out would come in handy, they aim it directly at the officers forehead ready to mercilessly fire. Before they are surrounded by a dozen clicking sounds all around them. Surrounded in a circle by what feels like hundreds of armed men aiming guns towards them, all holding blood thirsty canines back on a short leashes and slowly approaching behind the still fighting whumpee is head whumper.

"I'm amazed you made it this far, #338. Bravo." Whumper smirked, their eyes darting towards the ground and watching intently as whumpee kicked and flailed against the choking force around their throat, their already pale face losing what little pigmentation remained.

"Get him off before I splatter his brains on the ground!" Caretaker bellowed, their aim confident and still as it remained pointed at the assailants head, primed and ready for the shot.

"Go ahead. You kill my men, I make you watch as I kill little whumpee here and then you."

Caretakers breathing grew erratic, they gritted their teeth together as they huffed through their nostrils.

"You think I won't? You're disposable, #338. It'd be a shame to lose you both... a bit of an inconvenience. You're fun to fuck with but that doesn't mean I can't go grab some other vulnerable idiots off the street."

With a click of whumpers fingers, every weapon previously trained on caretaker diverts to whumpee on the ground. Caretaker let's out a distraught gasp of realisation, whumpee on the other hand hasn't even realised the new danger yet.

"Men. On the count of three if caretaker hasn't dropped their weapon. Shoot to kill whumpee... 1-" Whumper roared out their command. Whumpees fight was slowly dying, their knuckles bright white wrapped around the cord constricting their airway trying to pry it away from their throat - their body unnaturally heaving and jostling begging for air. They were beginning to go limp, their pupils rolling deep into the back of their skull as their grip on the garotte loosens and their wrists slam ungraciously against the ground.

"2..." There was a hint of excitement in whumpers voice, the safety of the guns all being clicked off in unison with fingers hovering eagerly above their triggers. Whumpee was too still, this was too scary and the worst thing was:

The only way to save whumpee was to submit.

Whumper wouldn't let them die. They wanted them for their twisted studies.

Caretaker swings the gun to the ground and sinks to their knees, throwing their arms in the air surrender style. Making sure to swallow back threatening tears that will make them vulnerable. The shuffle of feet closes in on caretaker imminently as they're roughly shoved by their face into the dirt, handcuffs slapped on to their wrists behind their backs - making sure they're excruciatingly tight and snagging already bruised, tender skin where they'd previously been restrained. But they allow it, they need to co-operate for whumpees sake. They watch with panic and concern as men approach whumpees breathless body on the ground, lifting them with ease and hoisting them over their shoulder, keeping a grip on to them by their waist.

Whumper strides over to caretaker, grinning as they tower above them - lifting their boot in the air to swing it with full force into caretakers face, a roar of agony breaking out as they felt their nose crook and snap, blood pouring down onto their lip.

"Let's go back inside, hey? You've had your fun..." Whumper taunted, lifting their head up with their boot scooping underneath their chin. Caretaker growled in retort, wanting to lunge and attack the sadistic fucker but withholding for whumpee.

"From now on, the two of you will be seperated. Different cells, different guards, different everything. Your unwarranted protectiveness of them is interfereing with my work. You'll never see whumpee again, Caretaker. That's on you."

-

taglist: @rainbows-and-whumperflies

#the merry whump of may #merry whump of may #whump #whump community #whump blog #whump writing #whumpblr #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #lab whump #garrotte #garrotting #escape #failed escape #escape attempt #self sacrifice #whump words #tw captivity #let's go back inside

[spookyboywhump]

Hm. Thoughts of Nicholas being a fucking creep towards Jet.

#he’s not really his type he just thinks he’s a lil cute #he thinks he’s what Zander should be #the one thing him and Anastasia can agree on #she mostly thinks he’s annoying and kind of gross #so she wouldn’t let that go on for long #intimate whumper

[mitsmebinch]

Sleep 11

Sleep 1 : Sleep 2 : Sleep 3 : Sleep 4 : Sleep 5 : Sleep 6 : Sleep 7 : Sleep 8 : Sleep 9 : Sleep 10

Reine barely managed to catch herself before she fell on the floor, a soft rug where she was expecting hardwood. She tried to shake the fog away, blinking several times only for her vision to remain blurry, her eyes stinging and watering.

It had been such a long time since she woke up enough to move by herself, but even then it was only barely. Her arms and legs shook with just the weight of her own body on top of them, disused and thin.

“Reine…!”

Her ears rang at the sound of her own name, terror washing over as she realized she would once again be put to sleep, once again be unable to run or scream or escape.

“Reine,” arms closed around her back and pushed her into someone’s chest, unable to break free.

“Nn…!” Reine groaned, unable to force the fervent No! out from between her lips.

“Reine, it’s okay.”

“Nn-no-no no…! No please…!” she cried, every fiber of her being trying to pull away from the grip she was trapped in.

“Reine, it’s me, you’re safe!”

“No!” she sobbed, “No, no no no please! Please…!”

“Reine, I’m not gonna hurt you. Klaus can’t hurt you anymore. I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. Reine, please. It’s me. Please, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Lina grabbed the sides of Reine’s head, forcing their gazes to meet.

“... Lina…?” Reine’s voice was so small her sister almost didn’t hear it. Reien stared at her, confused. She had been trapped in her nightmares for so long, but never once had Lina appeared in them.

“Lina?” Again, she called her sister’s name, trying to confirm that the person in front of her was really there, really her sister.

“Yes,” Lina nodded, looping her arms around her little sister’s body once more, grunting as she lifted Reine back onto the bed.

“No,” Reine’s voice cracked as she dug her fingers into Lina’s arm, trying to drag herself off the bed once more. “Please, no.”

“The drug isn’t out of your system yet,” Lina explained helplessly. “It would be better for you to sleep for now.”

“No!” Reine shouted, “No! Please, please don’t make me-!” Her voice again hitched in her throat, nausea rising in her stomach. “Please…!” Please, don’t make me go back to sleep, please…!”

“I’ll wake you up, I promise Reine,” again, Lina tried to comfort her sister.

“You’re lying…!” Reine screamed, pushing her sister away and crawling toward the other side of the bed.

“Reine, I’m not lying,” Lina raced around the other side to stop Reine just before she fell face first onto the floor.

“You’re lying!” Reine repeated, throwing her hands at Lina’s face. “You’re lying! You’re just g-!” She gasped as her breath escaped her, gasping again and again until the ceiling began spinning.

“Slow down,” a deep, gentle voice cooed, accompanied by a warm hand on her back. “Here, sit up,” Cyrus guided her legs over the side of the bed, keeping one hand in front of her in case she fell over. “Breathe out,” he pushed on her back, “and slowly back in.”

Reine struggled to follow his words, her hands and feet going numb.

“Breathe out, Reine,” Lina nodded, squeezing her sister’s hand.

Finally, she was able to catch her breath, sliding into a daze as her breathing went back to normal.

“How long has she been awake?” Cyrus asked, checking his watch.

“It was only a few minutes ago. The motion sensor went off when she fell on the floor.”

“Hm,” Cyrus nodded, lowering himself to his knees so Rene could look at him without having to raise her head. “Can you hear me?”

Reine gave him a tired, confused look.

“How do you feel?”

Reine looked away, her eyes closing with a long, drunken blink. “Mm.”

“You’re in pain?” Cyrus guessed.

She answered him with a whimper, nodding ever so slightly.

“And you don’t want to sleep?”

“No!” she shrieked, immediately pushed back onto the bed by both Lina and Cyrus when she tried to stand.

“You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to,” Cyrus quickly reassured her. “We’re not going to make you do anything, okay?” He glanced at Lina who immediately nodded enthusiastically. “Do you want to eat something?”

Reine made a face, unsure if she would even be able to eat with how sick she felt.

“How about we get you sat down in the chair over there,” Cyrus nodded to the armchair Lina had brought in to watch over her when they had first brought her back, “And I’ll get something light to eat. Is that okay?”

Reine didn’t answer, her blinks getting longer and longer.

Cyrus pursed his lips but picked her up, placing her in the chair. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Her eyes finally closed and didn’t open again, head slowly lowering to her shoulder as sleep overtook her once again.

#that's right bitches i had a bad fucking day so here we go #sleep #sleepy #drugged #forced drugging #whump #writing #whumpee #whumper #writing idea #drugging #forced sleep #tired #nightmares #begging #i mean probably a lil bit of trauma lets be honest #hypersomnia #just in that mood where i want to claw my fucking brain out i should have saved the receipt this shit defective as hell the fuck

[em-writes-stuff]

Whump of May day 17

@themerrywhumpofmay

prompts used: “lets go back inside” carried, garotte

warnings: kidnapping, whumper calls whumpee it, strangling (not to kill)

characters: whumper, whumpee

words: 384

Whumper sat on the couch, talking to a friend on the phone, “Yeah, Whumpee’s still adjusting to living here. Yeah, still trying to escape. Not unlike yours. I imagine it’ll calm down in a few more weeks. Ok, yeah, talk to you later. Bye.”

He set his phone on the coffee table and sighed, looking down the hallway to Whumpee’s room. The light shone under the door and Whumper groaned. “It got out again.” 

He walked to the room and opened the door, not surprised to see the curtains blowing and the window screen torn up. “I’m gonna have to put bars on the window if it keeps trying to get away.” 

He climbed out of the window and checked to be sure he had a rope in his pocket. Whumpee’s footprints were easy to follow, this was one of the few times Whumper was glad for the near-constant rain. He stalked through the trees behind his house.

Whumper found Whumpee creeping around a boulder and smirked. It- as usual- wasn’t paying attention and Whumper stood behind them. He took the short rope out of his pocket. 

He wrapped the rope around Whumpee’s neck and drew his hands together. 

“What have I said about breaking the window screen, Whumpee?” He asked, pulling Whumpee back until he could look in their eyes. 

Whumpee gasped, arms reaching up to their throat. Whumper smiled and pulled them down until their back popped and mouth gaped open. 

“There we go, just go to sleep. Then we can go back inside, okay?” They whispered. Their voice calm and collected. Whumper’s hand reached around Whumpee’s waist and supported their weight. If Whumpee had control of their flailing limbs they’d push Whumper away from them, shove him away and off, maybe even throw him away from them. Far enough away that he’d never be able to get back to them again. And Whumpee would run. Run as far as they could until they were free and safe from Whumper. But, all they could do was flail wildly and hope that Whumper lost his grip somehow. 

Whumper slowly took on more of Whumpee’s weight, until their eyes closed and body fell limp. He sighed and loosened the rope then threw Whumpee over his shoulder, “There we go. Let’s get back inside now.”

#the merry whump of may #whump #whump of may #whumpee #whumper #lets go back inside #day 17 #garotte #carried #em writes #em writes stuff #My writing

[lonely-harts]

May 17th- “Let’s go back inside”

Prompts used: Dialogue, Garotte, Forced to watch, Carried

Content Warnings: Restrained, noncon touch, creepy whumper, death, blood, captivity

“Nnngh,” groaned Whumpee as she felt her body being turned. Her legs, on reflex, kicked out. But bedsheets as her body expected weren’t there, instead, her legs flew through empty air.

Whumpee groaned again, her eyes still closed as she tried to snuggle back into her bed. 

Someone chuckled lightly as she tried and Whumpee felt her bed come up around her, embracing her.

Whumpee blinked, her eyes flickering open for the sun to pierce into. She tried to raise her hand to shield her eyes as she adjusted but found it bound to the other. 

Looking around she realised she was not in bed, instead, she was up above the ground, arms below her. Whumpee looked up, and Whumpee saw the soft smile of Whumper as they carried her.

“No,” Whumpee whispered as all her senses focused in on reality. Cold stone surrounded them, passages and hallways. Whumpee knew where these went, the courtyard. The one slick with blood.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” murmured Whumper, looking down at Whumpee.

Whumpee struggled as the misplaced kind smile of Whumper shone down at her like the sunlight, her eyes pained just looking at the smile.

“W-what did I do?” stuttered Whumpee, twisting her body as Whumper’s arms grew tighter around her.

The pair were now in the courtyard, a crow fluttered off with viscera of some sort as Whumper’s shoes clopped on the flagstones.

“Hush now,” soothed Whumper, lowering Whumpee onto a chair beside another. “Whatever made you think did something wrong?”

“We are here!” Whumpee panicked, shaking on the chair.

“Ah, well, we are here,” smiled Whumper. “To view, not partake.”

Out of another passageway came a man, his bound feet being dragged along the stones, rubbing them raw and leaving a trail of blood as soldiers held him by the shoulders.

“Caretaker!” Whumpee screamed and she tried to leap up from the chair.

Whumper put out their arm, winding Whumpee and forcing her to hobble back to the seat.

Whumpee looked at Whumper, her eyes wide and her mouth moving but unable to plea like she wished.

Caretaker was dragged over to a chair blackened with blood. Despite his bleeding feet and weeks of less and less food, Caretaker still twisted and turned as the soldiers bound his legs and torso to the chair with thick leather straps. His hands however were cut loose just as one of the soldiers looped wire around his neck, twice and looked to Whumper.

Whumper gave the nod to the soldier as Caretaker attempted to pull the garotte off his neck. However, when he pulled on one of the lines, the other cut deep into his neck. Caretaker slowed his struggle, but struggled nonetheless as blood seeped from the cut.

Whumpee wriggled in her chair, her own hands still bound. “You said he could leave!” she screamed as tears that stung burned their way down her cheeks. “You promised!”

“He is leaving,” said Whumper, gesturing with their head to the scene before them.

The soldier continued to twist the wooden handles attached to the wire as Caretaker struggled and choked. His eyes looked to Whumpee and his hands dropped from his throat.

“It’s alright,” he rasped, tracing the outline of her face from the chair.

Caretaker’s hand dropped to his lap as his head also dropped, slumping forward as life shuddered from his body.

Whumpee couldn’t look at Caretaker’s lifeless body, still sitting bound to the chair. She squeezed her eyes closed, hoping she could go back to sleep and wake later to find this nightmare.

Suddenly there was a heavy thump on her legs and she opened her eyes. Whumper smiled at her and rubbed her knee, lovingly, as a parent would.

“That was a lot for you, I know. Let’s go back inside,” Whumper comforted, a sweet smile still on their lips.

@themerrywhumpofmay​ @painsandconfusion​

If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!

#| the blood | #the merry whump of may #let's go back inside #creepy whumper #captive whumpee #whump #whump fic #emotional whump #whump story