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fallenwhumpee · 1 month

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A score to settle

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Presumed dead, grief, kidnapping, gagging, restrains.

Leader wished they had a button to turn off their thoughts. They wished they could silence the screams rolling that it was too late and this was all their fault.

Right Hand peeked in, their face also sour. They looked tired but not as much as Leader. Leader didn't know that, though. They refused to look at the mirror just because they didn't want to face themselves. They just assumed they were looking terrible, considering... everything.

"Any news?" They asked, hoarse. They hadn't talked for hours, being closed in their office and watching the cctvs around. Though they hadn't realised it had been this long. They were too focused, too fixed. A small break would do them good, they didn't want to miss anything because of their focus on bigger things rather than the details.

Right Hand shook their head. They looked like they were going to say something else for a moment, probably a remark about how Leader looked, but kept themselves. Good. Leader was in no mood for jokes. "But we got a call. Demanding you. It's an unknown number and pretty insistent."

Leader raised an eyebrow. "I'm too busy for that," they sighed after considering it for a short moment.

"No," Right Hand looked sure of something for the first time. "You're too obsessed with that. Leader, accept it... Youngest is..." They trailed off for a moment. "It's been a month. They would come back if they were..."

"I'm busy with searching them," Leader bit their tongue to restrain their frustration. "Youngest is strong. They are out there and—"

"Youngest was strong, I know, but that's enough. You have to move on."

"Don't tell me to move on when even you can't say it!" Leader lost the control of their voice. They breathed and softened their tone, knowing they weren't the only one grieving. It would be unfair to take the anger slowly building inside them out of Right Hand. "Yes, Youngest is probably dead." Leader swallowed. Admitting it made it too close to reality. They cleared their voice, forcing the knot in their throat down. "But I can't stop looking for them, even if only a corpse is waiting for me at the end."

"It's hurting you. I can see that. We all can see that. Leader... this can't go on. You haven't slept for days, and it's for nothing. We went through every single camera, every single place. The police went through everything. There's no trace of them. You won't find any too. Just... just accept that."

Leader looked down. They refused to listen to the reality of the words. They refused to believe Youngest disappeared overnight. Even if the alternative was haunting their day and night. "Fine," they sighed finally, standing up. Their body felt fragile at best, with how less they moved nowadays. Or it was because their vision wasn't so clear after staring at the screen for hours.

But the reason didn't matter. How they felt didn't matter too, as long as Youngest was out there, alone. Alive or dead. It didn't matter until Leader found them.

"Let's see what's all this fuss about, then."

Right Hand let out an unsatisfied grumble, but Leader could hear the grief under it.

Right Hand led them to the meeting room, the rest of the team already there.

"They're here." Right Hand said with a carefully schooled their voice.

"Good." A deep voice talked. It sent chills down to Leader's spine— the feeling was so foreign to them that it almost caused them to freeze. Their usual facade saved them. "Now, I have your dear Youngest."

"What?!" A shout escaped from someone. Leader thought of Medic, but it was actually Right Hand.

"Oh... don't get too excited," the voice chirped. And it disgusted Leader.

"Cut the show." Leader said sharply, to stop Right Hand and to get some end to this thing. They had no patience to deal with one more of those calls. They continued with the same tone. "I don't have much time. Looking for actual proof rather than mere words."

"What about this?"

A fabric shuffle sound came, and a weak squeak came, and it was enough to crush everyone in the room.

"Please—"

"My, my, that's not very nice first words to your team. I'm sure they missed you. Anyway, let's just keep you silent for now."

A muffled no was followed by a grunt and a fabric shift.

"Now, Leader, come and take your precious teammate. And come alone, we have a score to settle."

"Give me the time and location." Leader growled, ignoring the looks from the team. "And I hope you didn't touch Youngest. For your own sake," they muttered to themselves as they turned to the door. They would kill and die for their team, so they didn't really care if it was a trap. It would be worth it if Leader could bring Youngest to home.

#not really proud of this #but its the only thing i can post before im stuck with school #so have it #whump #whump writing #grief #presumed dead #kidnapping #tw gagging #restrains

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its-my-whump · 5 months

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Whumpcember2023 Day 13 - Restraines

@whumpcember

Tw: restrains, gore

Thick rope was biting into the soft skin on his ankles, rubbing against the lower part of his shin under a thin layer of flesh. His legs were spread out, away from him. The biting pain from too tight restrains had dulled down. The throbbing of his feet and ankles was numbed by now from lack of blood flowing underhindered through them anymore.

Cold metal rings had scrapped his wrists raw and were sticky with dried and fresh blood, from his frantic and unsuccessful attempts to free hinself. His hands were fixated in his back, right behind the pillar he was leaning against. They felt hot from the open lacerations, and stiff from endlessly being pulled and pushed against the cuffs.

Duck tape over his mouth made it hard to breathe through his nose, when he was panicking. And it felt like he hadn't stopped panicking since he woke up, being tied down and alone like this.

whumpcember masterlist

#whumpcember #whumpcember2023 day13 #restrains #whump #writing #whump community #whump writing

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rainbowsuitcase · 8 months

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Namjoon X Yoongi - Gym session

18+ smut, restrains, begging

Sometimes Yoongi likes to come the gym with Namjoon, not to work out but to watch. And sometimes, he brings something extra with him, something he can use to tie Namjoon's hands to that upper bar and have his way with him.

He likes to tease Namjoon when he has him helpless like this. He likes to tug Namjoon down for kisses, bite his neck, lick his nipples, suck hickeys into his stomach where they won't be seen.

He slowly makes his way to Namjoon's midsection, closer and closer to the place where Namjoon wants him the most. By that time, Namjoon is already desperate, twitching in his restrains, begging Yoongi to give him the release he needs.

"Please," he gasps, throwing his head back. "Please, hyung."

Yoongi rarely gives in. Instead, he bypasses the place where Namjoon is aching for him and pays attention to his thighs, creates more hickeys, sinks his teeth into the muscle.

Only when Namjoon is so desperate that he can't keep still, when he's so desperate that there are tears in his eyes, when he's so desperate he can barely speak, only a litany of "Please, hyung, please, I need it, I need you, hyung, please, it hurts, please." Only then does Yoongi decide to listen and swallows him down.

#bit #namjoon x yoongi #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #bts fic #bts smut #namjoon fic #yoongi fic #begging #restrains #it was a struggle to form coherent thoughts while looking at that picture #idk if even counts as coherent tbh #sub namjoon #dom yoongi #namgi fic #smut

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scratchandplaster · 1 year

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Stack The Deck - PART 3

CW: abduction, referenced drugging, manhandling, knifes, threats (of murder and mutilation)

PART 2 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 4

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The den wasn't a mansion, but it did its deed time and time again. A safe house to plan and rest. Or hide for a few days, concealed by an abandoned industrial park, just miles outside the suburban outskirts. Morris had been here once before, kept his head down for nearly a week. But even the most patient man snaps eventually; tired of the crumbled grout and boarded-up windows, he decided to join the world of the living again, even with his warrant keeping the local police on their feet.

It meant to look desolated, of course. The retired crack house was littered with blankets and old mattresses, trash piling up more than a good few feet in some corners, hiding the place's main function. This time, as a weekend cottage for two.

With vague unease still tugging at his nerves, Morris dragged this baggage through the entry door. It barely separated the garage and living room area, if you could even call it that. Holding him close by his shirt collar, the heaving person swept up a concerning amount of dust and grime off the stained carpet, all the while digging his bound limbs into every resistance he could find.

"And I thought that I nearly overdosed you, you take a lot more than anticipated," he spoke, more to himself, eventually looking back at Elliot, "You're used to a little bit of Special K?"

Finally, he let him drop onto a mattress and raised a brow at the crumpled man near his feet, who was staring at him like he'd grown three heads.

Morris assessed his options. He could keep him pumped full of anesthetics, sure, nobody was against a bit of peaceful quiet after a long day. On the other hand, he knew himself to be a bit too lenient with the dosage, so not wanting to risk any freak accidents, he scrapped this idea pretty quickly. He would have to get through this sober.

His guest was locked onto his gaze, the hysteric breathing now calmed significantly, simply murmuring around the improvised gag. His bloodshot eyes glistened with primal fear, a justified reaction Morris had to admit, as the bruises of their little tiff already spread around his right eye and down to the bridge of his nose. Not broken, but still graced by blood caked around his nostrils.

"I'm gonna take that thing off," he started with a calm tone, not wanting to irritate Elliot further, "but if you scream, it goes right back in." The hazel orbs searching for intention behind this gracious offer began to spill over at these words, followed by a tender nod. Kneeling down right next to him on the cushion, he slowly started tugging the knotted mess out by its sides, letting it slip under his prisoner's chin.

--------

As he took his first deep breaths of the night, Elliot's gaze never lost the contact with his captor. He wasn't sure what would follow, if he was even allowed to speak. Whatever pain-relieving effect the drug inside him had for the last couple of hours, it slowly began to fade.

Elliot's whole body was screaming in an amalgamation of his burning limbs and back, nearly numbing the sore pinch at the side of his neck, but still dissolving into each other to combine with the nausea under his heart. He could practically taste the bile already starting to rise at the back of his throat. It was impossible to grasp a single thought hammering through his mind, all rational parts being shut down in this fever-dream of an experience.

"Please," he begged in a near soundless whisper, not even able to speak any louder due to his strained jaw, "it hurts so bad."

The shadow above let his head fall to the side, eyeing the tape around the limbs, which was already slipping down and cutting off circulation, with fingers turned worryingly white and motionless. Elliot could feel the static tingle of the strained nerve endings crawling up his arm like ants on a mission. But yet, his keeper didn't seem to do something about it.

After remaining in this constellation, the man finally seemed to come back from his mental exercise in empathy. He let his head bop in an understanding motion.

"No one’s out there," he slowly started again, his slight monotone drawl pressing down on Elliot's neck like a vice, "and I could break your legs like a dry branch anyway. So you're surely smart enough not to try any bullshit, right?"

Not wanting to upset him in any way, Elliot used the safe option of a sincere nod.

"Alright, just because you've been quite cooperative on the way back. Don't ruin this for yourself."

With that uplifting appeal, his captor rolled him sideways onto his face, now gaining access to the hogtied extremities currently bound in an unbearable degree.

He can't be much older than I am, was the first clear thought coming to the front of his mind, as Elliot's face pressed into a suspicious smudge, which stained the mattress already. Maybe he was reasonable enough to accept this obvious mix-up.

Before coming to plan the best approach to such a person, his hands and feet disconnected with a quick snap. The instant return to a neutral position maimed his joints even more than the stress position they were now used to, making him want to scream through the whole neighborhood. But he didn't, he simply bit down into the awful smelling fabric, burying his face to gag his cries once again. He couldn't know it, but for the man above him, this pain was more familiar than he liked to admit.

He was rolled onto his back again in a swift motion, and although still tied, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

Should I thank him? Maybe it will harder to slice me open, if he likes me even a little-

At the sight of a knife, he instantly froze. With his body under tension again, only being moved by a slight quiver, he saw the man shift into a cross-legged position. The switchblade laid casual in his palm, flicking gravel and debris around the carpet floor.

"I know this is very stressful for you," he began to explain, preparing what sounded like a standardized letter of sympathy, "I meant to meet you inside your apartment - but there you were, standing in front of my car, practically begging to speed this whole thing up. I had a whole plan made up already, you know? One that didn't involve a melee in front of a dumpster..."

Elliot desperately tried to remember what the hell he was talking about. He could get feisty, sure, but throwing hands with that mountain of a man, standing at least one whole foot taller than him, seemed more than unrealistic.

"You fight like a bitch, by the way."

I fought, Elliot realized with a shocking calm, gradually being able to place his pounding forehead and aching face into the picture. But despite his alleged effort, he couldn't see a single scratch on his counterpart. Pathetic.

Ignoring the not so subtle insult, he wanted to know only one thing from him: "Why am I here?"

"Don't think about it too hard," was the bitter answer practically spat at him, "You should learn not to take everything personally, Elliot."

He never thought that his own name could nearly make his heart stop beating. This wasn't a mix-up or a random abduction - he had made himself enemies. Not knowing why or who brought him to the edge of tears once again.

"How do you- I swear, I don't know you, just let me go and I'll never bother you again. Please I just-"

Quickly, the sharp blade placed itself down against his lips, and with a short exhale, his desperate blabbering stopped in an instant. It didn't cut, just passed on its silent threat. The cold steel turned to lay flat now, Elliot wasn't sure he was even allowed to breathe anymore.

"Don't. Worry. About. It." The man said, talking him down like a moody infant, but his anger only thinly veiled. "When I get what I want, a thing you can't help with in the slightest, I'll let you go."

Elliot didn't believe him for a second, that's not how these kinds of situations end. The understanding gaze his captor put on for just a few seconds rushed across his face again, taking away some of his harsh features.

"The name's Morris, just so you know."

I'm dead, Elliot suddenly knew with an endless certainty. No one can afford a witness.

"Why are you saying this?" he pressed out under tears, careful not to provoke him further.

"Why not, how else should you address me."

"I don't even want to... I'm bad with names anyway." Why, why, why, why?

"Oh, and let me guess: face blind too?" The man named Morris said with a crooked smile around his lips, an entirely new look, that didn't help with the anxiety spreading through Elliot's body again.

"So you won't tell anybody about this, yeah?"

He nodded vigorously, the blade nearly nicking the soft skin of his lips.

"That's right, you won't. Doesn't matter if you know who I am!" Morris growled, getting louder himself like it didn't matter who could hear him, "Otherwise, I am going to slit your mother open from her chin down to her fucking cunt."

Elliot didn't doubt a single word from this man anymore.

"Have I made myself clear?"

He knew where I live, when I work, he probably planned this for months. He's going to stop at nothing.

"Yes-", he whispered, cut off by a wet sob. Morris didn't seem to like that, but did nothing about it either. Finally, he got up on his feet and granted them both some space to breathe.

He sat down at a decrepit bar table with a matching stack of chairs, already coated with a thick film of dust. Elliot continued to lie on his back, soaking in his own misery and tears, while his captor dug through the duffle bag he brought with him to pull out a stack of playing cards.

"You can't just do that...", Elliot whispered to himself in a last attempt to make himself wake up from this delusion. He never hoped for anything to be faker than this. A cruel prank on his cost, his friend wanting to tease him. But nothing of the sorts was the reason he was here today.

Too petty to ignore the desperate man's monologue, Morris spread the freshly shuffled cards out on the rough wood, his eyes not even bothering to look at his captive.

"It's really tedious, how all of you people tell me the exact same thing. But I can, trust me. You'll have the world, if you're just insolent enough."

Steeping in silence, they remained.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

#whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump drabble #febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday14 #captivity #abduction #manhandling #restrains #threats of violence #threats #referenced drugging #stack the deck

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massgrav · 1 year

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Trying out new props...

#basic needs : restraining cute boys #muse:#jowan #from #dragon age #equipment #contraption #restrains #citrus zest #traditional art #digital editing #fan art #sort of

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whumpy-arts-and-crafts · 2 years

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@befuddled-calico-whump I love him your honor

I'm not the anon who asked for permission to draw their fav panels, but I've also been wanting to draw Wes for a long time. This whole arc has given me so many whumperflies it's unreal.

So, here are my favorite moments. The panel of him crying was my absolute favorite.

#his hair probably doesn't make sense in the bottom left drawing #but if i drew it properly it would hide his pained expression #i sacrificed realism for whump and i don't regret it #whump #whump community #whumpblr #villain whump #whump art #burns tw #blood tw #injuries #restrains #torture

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museumir · 8 months

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Restrains of Time

Books to read

and reread

Films to watch

and rewatch

Poems to write

and reimagine

Feeling the rain on my skin

The snow coating my lashes

Rays of sun kissing my cheeks

Fearing the thunder late at night

Meet of new people

How they talk and laugh

What makes them cry

Their end line dream

My body adjusting to the rhythm

from the music in my ears

How it drowns the noise out

And gently tucks me in

New words to greet

Sound of fresh raw languages

And cultures to encounter

To be hugged by art on walls

The unlimited limited time of time

Restrains one to one life

But I’ll stop by woods a while

For I have-

miles to go before I sleep

and miles to go before I sleep.

#my work #my writing #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #poems #poetry community #literature #poet #robert frost #time #restrains #limited time #my poerty #original work #writers on tumblr

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fallenwhumpee · 5 months

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Tour

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Torture, forced to watch, forced to hurt, restrains, water torture.

Right Hand shrunk their shoulders, hiding in the group of new recruits walking through the corridors of Whumper's base. This was their last chance.

Whumper was walking in front of them, just in their reach, but also untouchable. They had to focus on something else than the fact that they could just stab Whumper at that moment, and they would still have enough time to watch the monster bleed to death until the help arrived.

But then they couldn't risk their mission for the sake of revenge.

With a silent sigh, they looked around, the environment getting darker and darker every second.

The recruits marched in silence, the only sounds being the echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the cold, metallic walls.

Right Hand's muscles tensed as they fought to maintain composure, suppressing the anger that threatened to surface. Too secure. There was no way they could break out of there without gaining some access to the security system.

That meant it would take time. The time they didn't have.

As they neared a particular door, Whumper abruptly stopped, and the recruits followed suit. A cold chill crawled up Right Hand's spine with the harsh gaze studying them.

"The prison is the last part of our tour. You might want to cover your ears, my friends. We've got only a few prisoners, but we look after them well."

Before Roght Hand could comply, a loud, high-pitched noise leaked in through the door that just opened. They squeezed their eyes and covered their ears, an unbearable ringing making their head ache on the spot.

The sound got cut as they all stepped into the room, Right Hand's ears still throbbing.

They opened their eyes slowly, barely managing to hold back their gast. Leader was tied in the middle of the room, shackles on their neck low enough for them not being able to stand up, but their wrists hamding through thd ceiling high enough for their knees not to touch to the ground. They were trembling, a blindfold soaked with blood covering most of their face.

"While I like to deal with important prisoners personally, I should test my new minions, don't you think?" Whumper directly looked at Right Hand as they spoke.

Right Hand wanted to throw up.

Whumper slapped Leader, the chains rattling but not letting them fall. Leader whimpered, but they tried their best to keep it to themselves. Whumper put a hand to Leader's shoulder, patting it slowly as they speak.

"That's no way to welcome someone, Leader. You're so rude. We've got bright underlings here! Aren't you honoured to be their first experience in using interrogation techniques effectively?"

"Get off me!" Leader finally snapped after wincing in every pat, struggling weakly in the restrains.

"As you wish. I don't feel like a villain today, so I'm just going to take the blindfold off and leave you with the rookies."

Right Hand didn't flinch— but they didn't know how Leader would react to see them there. In the worst case, Leader would expose them. In the worst case for Right Hand, they would have to comply in this 'test'.

Leader snarled as Whumper pulled through black fabric, revealing dried blood on Leader's temples and burns covering half of their forehead.

"No, no, no. I don't think I broke you that much. You're still a human, act like it."

"Then treat me—"

Whumper punched Leader.

"I said yet. But you tempt me."

Whumper grabbed Leader's chin, making them look up for a moment to see the sadistic smile. Then they moved away, leaving the group in the middle of the room with not knowing what to do.

"Any volunteers? I will help, don't worry."

It was just what Right Hand was worried about.

Leader groaned as they looked around, their gaze lingering on Right Hand just more than a brief moment. They stiffened, a shiver running down from their spine.

"Anyone got ideas? No? Dont tell me you're all so decent. You came with knowing the job."

"W-water?" One of the rookies suggested.

"Ah, a classic. And perhaps a bit of showoff, but there's no harm in trying it. Now, would you go ask the guards for water? You— scared one at the back. Excuse my addressing, but I didn't want to learn names until I can be sure that you're fit to work. Getting attached and all of that isn't good for my heart. It gets harder to kill, you know."

"I'll get it," Right Hand sounded somehow stable.

"Be quick," Whumper huffed, bored.

Right Hand made the mistake of looking at Leader. The only emotion in those eyes was acceptance. Not acceptance of what Whumper did to them, but acceptance of what Right Hand was about to do.

Right Hand didn't take long with the task, their mind not capable of thinking anything else than what was going on in yhe room without them. They were already late with the rescue, and they were going to take even more time from that moment— they had a feeling that Whumper was already smelling the foul play.

When they came back, the only difference was that one of the rookies had a deep and bleeding bite mark on their hand, and Leader's nose was bleeding.

"My bad, you look so thirsty," Whumper chirped. "What about I make it up with a little extra?"

Leader stared with fire in their eyes.

Whumper pulled the wide bucket, pulling Leader back from their hair and unhooking the shackles on their neck.

Right Hand looked down as Whumper pushed Leader's head down into the bucket.

They didn't turn their gaze up until they heard Leader cough and gasp, collapsing to the floor as soon as Whumper let them go.

"I got distracted again. Who wants the job?"

Only a deep silence answered. Right Hand guessed no one had signed up for this.

"If there's no volunteer, I will show you how to do it."

Again, the only answer was silence.

Right Hand stepped closer as Leaders struggled to rise on their arms, but Whumper took it as if they wanted to, pulling them to their side.

"Good, good. At least not all of you are cowards. Now, pull them up."

Right Hand froze.

"Do it, I don't have all day."

Right Hand pulled Leader from their shirt, trying not to jolt them too much.

"Amateur!" Whumper roared, yanking Leader from their grasp. "I'm starting to think none of you want the job. I know all of you have records. At least no one will press charges for this one. Now, you will hold it like this, and..."

Without a warning, Whumper pushed Leader's face back into the bucket. Leader struggled right in front of Right Hand, but they couldn't stop this. Not if they wanted to end it permanently. But their confidence about pulling this stunt was just crushed in mere seconds.

Whumper pulled Leader up, who just tried to breathe as Whumper threw the body to Right Hand like a rag doll.

"Now try it."

"I'm so sorry," they whispered only to Leader.

They didn't know which one of them would be more broken at the end of this.

#whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #restrains #tw torture #forced to watch #forced to hurt #drowning

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whumpcreations · 2 years

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Whumptober No. 2: Nowhere to run

TW: restrains, collar, choking, thirst, begging

The Prisoner, Part 1:

Emery was so tired. She felt like her brain had shut down ages ago and all she could think of now was how tired she was and how desperately she wanted to rest and sleep; but Emery couldn’t. Every time she closed her eyes for even a second or her legs gave out from standing too long and she stumbled the collar around her neck would be threatening to strangle her. It was secured to the ceiling making sure Emery had no chance to give her shaking legs a break. They would give out soon, Emery knew, but she still hoped somebody would come and let her down. Normally, the guards would end her misery before she could strangle herself to death for real. Nobody came yet, so she stood there hoping her muscles would work a few minutes longer.

Another thought crept in her awareness – Emery was thirsty. She had been for a while now – her tongue stuck to her paper dry gum – but now the feeling first mixed then overlayed her tiredness and her exhaustion. Her body felt bone dry like not a single fluid drop was left. Would her blood still come out liquid? Emery didn’t believe it.

Voices, steps, people, then the creaking of the door. Emery didn’t react – she couldn’t. She floated somewhere far away. But the people came nearer, talked to her. Emery didn’t understand them. They spoke the same language, she was sure, but the words didn’t make any sense. She didn’t even know these people – or was her brained just too foggy to recognize their faces? Emery wasn’t sure.

The next moment, someone was holding her while another soldier fumbled at the catch hooked in her collar. The moment it opened Emery’s legs gave out unable to hold her weight any longer. The man holding her slowly laid her down on the ground. Before Emery even realised what she was doing, she had been scrambling back in the corner of her cell. She knew she was bad and it would help her one bit – on the contrary: she most likely would be punished for it – but her brain couldn’t think beyond no more pain. Ember now trembled at the wall making herself as small as possible and whispered: “Please, please, no more pain. I can’t take it. Please.” Her voice sounded hoarse and it was barely audible. Emery mumbled on and on and didn’t even realise that one of the unfamiliar soldiers crouched down in front of her.

“It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you. Here, have some water.” He held a flask to her mouth. Emery drank greedily and way too soon the soldier took it away. “You shouldn’t have too much or you’ll get sick”, he explained.

“Lieutenant.” The man in front of her turned towards the soldier calling him before standing up and quietly talking to him at the door.

After a moment the Lieutenant seemed to scan her with an ice cold expression. “What’s your name?”, he asked, every trace of kindness erased from his voice.

“Emery. Emery Clarke.”

Emery Clarke.

It really was her; his soldier had been right. When the soldier had expressed his suspicion that the young woman shivering in the corner of the cell could be the famous sniper Emery Clarke, Alec nearly laughed. But it seemed to be true. Rumours were she had been missing for months now – and yet there she was.

“Can you walk?” He knew that his voices came out way too sharp when Emery flinched but knowing that this was apparently THE Emery Clarke who caused so much suffering to him and his people he felt a old anger coming to the surface again. “I- I will try, Sir.” Alec hated how weak and full of fear her voice was, how broken she looked. He hated how he couldn’t completely supress the pity for her. Emery was covered in filth and only dressed in rags and even at the distance she looked way to thin and fragile. With the woman´s first attempts to stand up, it was clear as day that she wouldn’t even be able to walk to the cell door let alone climb up the stairs. Alec sighted. “Corporal, help her”, he instructed the other soldier who supported Emery after a moment of hesitation. “I’m sorry, I can do it better. I can be good.” She sounded like not being able to walk after having to stand for who knows how long was disastrous. What have they done to her? “Just let us get back to our base.” And the Gods may help him deal with this fucked up situation.

#whumptober2022 #no.2 #nowhere to run #cornered #OC #whump writing #collar #strangled #begging #thirst #restrains #military whump #whump #lady whump #female whumpee

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i-am-plotting · 2 years

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Canis

#Snippet 3 - Dream

CW: lab whump and restrains mentioned. First person.

=-=

When I woke up again, there were no people around, which was normal and expected. What made my eyes open wide in surprise was, at first, the ceiling; it wasn’t white. It was made of wood, painted in a dark blue color, and it had a single light bulb, small and circular, so different from the several rectangular lights from the lab.

I knew it was useless trying to sit up, by then, I would surely be too restrained to move a finger; to make sure I would have no chance of running away again. Still, maybe because my so-often-scared-of-light mind found the dark ceiling oddly calming, I tried to get closer, to sit up anyway, to my surprise I managed to do so, there was no straightjacket, no ropes or straps keeping me in place, and the more I looked around less the place looked like a lab. It’s a dream. I was sure. I could never have so much freedom in real life.

But if that was really just a dream then I never wanted to wake up again.

=-=

#lab whump #restrains #whump #on writing #my writing #straightjacket #Canis #Canis snippet #lil bites of writing #snippet #WIP #oc canis

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its-my-whump · 6 months

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Whumptober 20+21

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

“You will regret touching..."

No. 21: Restraints | “Don't move.”

Hummingbird 20+21

(Story starts here, if you like) previous

...

Sunlight was bathing to room. It was so bright, Sam didn't need to open his eyes to know, how bright the day would be.

He was in bed, an additional hand on his side. He touched for her shoulder. Hadn't she dumbed him a few weeks ago? Maybe it had just been a dream. Jessy was still here, wasn't she? Or did he hook up, when he went to the club? Had he really lost his job, or was that a dream too?

Sam's hand brushed over her shoulder. "Jess?" His voice was still sleep-drunk. He wanted to lean in on her, touch her, feel the warmth of another human being, feel alive.

With shock he realised, that 'her' shoulder was too broad, too muscular for a girl, even a big one, if he actually had hooked up. The hand on his own side was just too heavy. His fingers found a path up that ungirly shoulder to a neck.

Sam's fingers touched stubbles. 'THAT was not a girl! Defenitly NOT Jessy!' He wasn't homophobe or anything. He was more dumbstruck and had never done something like this, whatever this was. Had never shared a bed with a man willingly. Not even with his best mate Peter, when they got wasted. Even then, one of them would take the couch or the floor. Even after so many years, Sam couldn't stand another man invading his personal space for too long. Cause this last barrier, he had build around himself, made sure he would at least see the enemy coming, instead of being surprised by the pain.

His hand stopped moving and his eyes flew open, he pulled away. "Not quiet. And Jessy was a bitch, wasn't she?"

Grey was looking at him from much too close. One arm propped up against the side of his head. An amused smirk played around his lips. 'How did he know about Jess?'

Suddenly everything was back. Sam remembered, or more was struck by lighting about what had happened since he went to the club alone. As if actually struck by lightning, he jumped and scouted away until his back hit the wall behind him with a dull thud.

"Have we...? I mean have you?" Sam was confused and even more ashamed, that he unconsciously had searched for his captors prensence during the night. 'Great self-defense, that instantly crumbles, when you feel lonely, idiot!'

"No, we haven't and I! haven't done anything to you either! Relax! I already told you, I wouldn't touch you indencently. Only if you explicitly asked me too."

Maybe that guy also had different personalities. Sam came to understand, that he had at least 2 just now. The one that kept him alive, when he needed to struggle and fight and the one, that kept him alive, when he needed to reason and obay.

So it was still possible, that Grey was this kind of forthcoming, descent and understanding in one moment and then he was slapping, chaining and electricuting him in the next.

Maybe, Sam needed to adapt better. It didn't really mean, he was giving in, would it? It would increase his chances of escape. But could he willingly obay to that man's commands?

'NO! NEVER!'

"Don't move." Grey said. Sam was lost between his overwheming thoughts and feelings staring into nothingness. Suddenly a flash blinded him. The familiar clicking and brushing sound he had heard the last time he was constriced to this bed.

'This sick fuck just took a picture of him?' Fury burned like phospathe was enflamed and he lashed out. The camera left Grey's hands and seemed to be standing weightless in midair. Time stopped.

Both their heads followed it moving through nothingness in silence and slow motion.

Then time just caught up suddenly and it crushed to the floor with an earpiercing shattering sound. The camera was ripped into pieces by the impact. Debris of plastic and metal scattered all over the wooden pannels, while a picture got stuck halfway in its slit.

Grey sucked in a deep breath, his calm demeanor instantly changed. Sam was still frozen. Hadn't he just debated with himself, that he needed to adapt to survive. He was paralysed by his own overflowing emotions and the unimmaginal stupidity he just so openly demonstrated.

Inwardly he expected a hard slap. The angry voice thundered through the room. "You will regret touching..." But it was a fist that connected with his temple. The impact let his head snap back and the base of his scull hit the wall behind him. His brain hadn't had a chance to recognise the pain before everything went dark.

...

Sam was dragged over the floor by a strong grip fisting his shirt in the back, while the big hand under his left armpit restrained him like a vise. His heels scrapped over the floor, his legs and butt occacionally touched the ground. His hands, shackled together with thick leathercuffs again, were laying in his lap. Blood was flowing down the left side of his face. His head was pounding mercilessly. His vision only a blurry mix of colors.

Grey was ravishing behind him, while he made their way down the corridor. It seemed they were heading for the room in the basement. Actually Sam hadn't seen the way there even once. And now it was hardly any different. Even if he had been able to keep his eyes open, his foggy vision would have prevented him from seeing any details.

"Now, see what you made me do. I don't want to hurt you. But YOU made me, hummingbird." The voice was distant, not only by the areal distance between them and that Grey was talking in the other direction, but by the emotionless tone he was using or actually not using.

"She always said, people don’t change people. Time does. So that's exactly what I'm going to do. I give you time to think what is best for you, SAMMY!"

They stopped. A door flew open. It must have been the solid steel door from his underground prison by the loud impact it made when it hit the outside wall. Sam flinched hard. The bang repeating itself in his head over and over again. His shackled hands went for his ears instictively.

TBC

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#whumptober2023 #no.20 #no.21 #People don’t change people #You'll regret touching #restrains #don't move #emotional whump #oc #noncon touching tw #captivity tw #blood tw #unconciouness tw #hummingbird

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