#tw implied captivity

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 2'627

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, Implied forced relationship, Implied captivity, Toxic relationship, Possessiveness, Invasion of personal space, Non-consensual touching.

Additional Notes: Do be kind, I have not written for this man before and find him exceedingly difficult.

Every week at the Hotel, there was something new Charlie had planned.

Trust exercises. Ice breakers. Activities meant to bring everybody closer together as a group. To try and get people to open up and show a side of vulnerability that - she believed - would help sinners take one step closer to salvation.

Most of them were awkward, and a lot of them never went as planned. A fact she realized and, after a near mental breakdown, had her promptly take advice from Vaggie and agree to try something different.

The task was very simple compared to the previous activities. She requested everybody to think about redemption and what it meant to them.

Thinking about the definition itself took little to no effort.

Redemption (noun): The action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil.

But it was clear that Charlie wanted more than just a quote from the dictionary. She wanted residents of the Hotel to mull over it while looking deep down into themselves so they could share their stance on the matter later on.

That was the tricky part.

From how you saw it, “saving yourself” from sin was easy enough to accomplish. ‘Just don’t be a dick and avoid the bad shit.’ was the first thought that came to mind, but where you hit a snag was based on what Charlie had shared about Heaven. According to her, even so much as breathing in Hell was enough to solidify your place in the inferno, yet she made it clear that actively resisting sin wasn’t something to go unrecognized.

It took a lot of effort, energy, and courage to do so, and it was hard to disagree even if Heaven didn’t see it that way.

Error was a bit harder. In your opinion, nobody could be saved from that, at least not entirely. Eventually, inevitably, you or someone else would do something wrong, it was just a matter of degree. It could be something as minor as bumping into somebody by accident or as major as Angel relapsing for what felt like the hundredth time, but it would happen and it was only a matter of time.

Charlie did bring up a rather good point, though. Apologizing when you realized you had done something wrong was the best thing someone could do, and it was the first step in the right direction.

You had to give her credit where it was due for that.

But evil was a different matter entirely.

Evil lurked everywhere in Hell. Across every street, around every corner, evil was out in the open for everyone to bear witness and see. None of it was hidden. None of it was meant to be hidden.

What would be the point? You and every other sinner were already in Hell - and many would argue that hiding it would be counterintuitive to being there in the first place.

Charlie tried to plead the case that everyone had good in them. A good that could be tweezed out if given the right chance, and the right environment, which the Hotel was perfect for.

You wish you could agree.

Evil was in the hotel itself, not that Charlie was fully willing to see it.

You believed she was careless there. Little Miss Bleeding Heart wanted to see the best in people, and by god did you ever want to know what it was like to see through such rose-tinted glasses, but you knew you never could. Not in this place.

Stepping a foot into the building was the worst thing you’d ever done because it showed you just how wrong you were about evil being so out in the open. It still had the ability to lurk, something you learned the moment you shook hands with Alastor.

You could see it on his face upon meeting him for the first time - the way Alastor’s perpetual grin widened upon seeing the goosebumps that lined your arms when he clasped your hand in his. No comment was ever made on the matter, but the way his lips peeled back to reveal the black of his gums before he pressed a brief kiss to your knuckles said enough.

Something utterly sinister reeked from him in a manner you couldn’t describe, so you took your own advice and applied the same thing you did when it came to sin.

Avoidance. As much as you could, at least.

Some moments were easier than others. The distinct metallic clack of Alastor’s microphone against the floor combined with a surge of radio static usually bought enough time for you to make whatever excuse you needed in order to leave before he arrived.

Other times you weren’t so lucky, and Charlie’s group meetings were usually to blame in that regard.

At first, you made a great deal of effort to put as much distance between yourself and the Radio Demon as you could, which worked for a time. Unfortunately, Alastor caught onto what you were doing much faster than you would’ve liked.

He reveled in it. You knew he did. After a while you had the gnawing suspicion he was purposefully going out of his way to make you as uncomfortable as possible for his own entertainment. You saw no other reason as to why he’d consistently move so close to you that you could literally feel him breathing down your neck.

Lately, he had adopted the skin-crawling habit of locking eyes with you the moment you stepped foot in the room and patting the seat beside him - reserved specifically for you. Accepting the gesture felt like swallowing nails, but being openly rude to Alastor was something that you knew better than to do.

Instead, you began to find excuses for skipping the meetings entirely and have Angel or Husker fill you in later, which was exactly what you were doing now.

“To be honest I wasn’t payin’ much attention,” Angel said while he scrolled through his phone, resting his chin in his upper left hand while his lower right swirled alcohol around in a glass. “Was the kind of thing that could’ve been sent in an email.”

You traced your finger around the rim of your own glass, its contents untouched. “Still, I want to know what I missed.”

“He’s right, it wasn’t anything special,” Husker replied, slinging a cloth over his shoulder from behind the bar. “Same old bullshit about salvation with a new coat of paint on top.”

A pang went through your chest, but you pushed it down. “So nothing new?”

Angel scoffed and looked up from his phone. “Trust me, dollface, you did yourself a favor.” He downed the rest of his drink in one go. “What were you doing anyways?”

“You know…” You replied with a shrug, glancing down. “I went out.”

Angel smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Out?”

“Yeah.” You tapped your nails against the edge of the glass. “Things were feeling a little claustrophobic, so I went out for some air.”

Husker made a noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I know how you feel, kid. This place is a mess.”

Angel tilted his head, placing his phone down on the bar and leaning forward a bit. “So where’d you go? Anywhere fun?”

“Where indeed~.”

All your movements went rigid. After a few seconds, you slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder to see Alastor standing barely a foot away from you, staring down at you with a tight, closed-lipped smile. You hadn’t heard him coming in the slightest, which you immediately could tell was intentional.

Whether he’d used his shadow or had actually stalked up behind you wasn’t something you wanted to think about, and if Angel or Husker picked up on the immediate tension, neither of them said anything about it.

“Hey, Smiles.” Angel greeted with his usual flirtation, placing the elbows of his upper arms on the bartop as he turned to face Alastor. “Fancy a drink? You look a little stiff” He gave Alastor a very long once over, “and I’ll have you know I know a few ways I can help relieve some… tension.” 

Alastor’s lips curled back to reveal his teeth, the muscle in his cheek spasming for a moment.

Mentally you were kissing Angel on the cheek for the save as you slowly picked your coat up off the bar and slipped it on, concealing the goosebumps already present on your skin. Husker gave you a glance from the side and gave a very slight shake of his head, silently advising you against your unspoken desire to leave.

“I assure you, such a thing is never going to happen.~”

“You sure?” Angel rested his lower right arm on his hip. “I have a few tricks that can loosen you up.”

The leather in Alastor’s gloves audibly squeaked as his grip tightened around the staff of his microphone and his attention immediately shifted back to you, ignoring Angel entirely.

“My dear,” His voice dripped with such a saccharine sweetness it made you feel sick, “Could I speak with you for a moment?”

Fewer combinations of words could instill such a unique feeling of encroaching dread all at once, but you refused to let it show as you nodded and turned your body on the bar stool to face him fully; waiting for him to say the first word.

His eye twitched ever so slightly.

“Privately.”

That made you swallow.

“Sure.” You slid off the bar stool, doing your best not to appear as reluctant as you felt.

“Lovely.~” He said, promptly turning on his heel and walking towards the staircase - expecting you to follow.

You glanced back towards Husker and Angel, each giving you looks of grim sympathy and confusion respectively before you took a deep breath and forced one foot in front of the other, following Alastor up the steps.

You thought he would talk along the way. Engage in some form of idle chit-chat where he’d be pulling the strings, or even hum along to the countless jazz tunes that he played in the halls over the Hotel’s sound system.

But no such music played and he remained silent. A few minutes into the walk you gathered enough courage to glance up at him and found his eyes locked straight forward, not even sparing you so much as a glance.

You averted your gaze, the hem of your sleeves suddenly the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen.

Eventually, he came to a stop, and he held out the end of his microphone to prevent you from going any further down the hallway.

“Here we are!” Rather than producing a key from his coat, a green flash emanated from the lock when he placed his hand on the handle and opened the door.

He all but leered at you as he gave a small bow that didn’t feel genuine in the slightest.

“After you.~”

Like the alleged gentleman he was, Alastor held the door open for you, eyes never leaving your form as you walked inside his suite.

The smell of dampness and soil hit you immediately.

Alastor’s suite wasn’t the worst thing you’d seen in Hell by a mile, however, it was still eerie beyond words. The skeletons that hung along the walls and mantlepiece of his fireplace became less complete and increasingly disorganized as they led further into the room - which itself gave way to a swamp-like environment halfway through. Undoubtedly a result of whatever hoodoo, voodoo bullshit he was capable of, and while it still wasn’t the worst you’d seen, it served its purpose thoroughly.

It creeped the shit out of you.

“Now, then.” Alastor clicked the door shut, his body half-facing yours as his hand still lingered on the doorknob. “I'm sure you have a good explanation for what you’ve been doing.~”

The immediate dryness in your throat was hard to ignore. You knew what he was talking about, and you knew that he knew, but you still attempted to buy some time as you tried to figure out what to do.

You cleared your throat. “I was just catching up with Angel and Husk-”

He chuckled, the sound like that of a radio shifting stations. “Don’t be coy.” His head turned towards you with a sickening, ossified crackle that bent his neck in a manner that made your stomach lurch. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I’d like to know why.”

Fuck.

“I haven’t.” Lying to Alastor was a mistake, but you still decided to risk it since it wasn’t entirely false. “There’s just been a lot on my mind recently.”

“Hmm.” Interest and something much worse flickered behind his eyes as he faced you fully with another crack of his vertebrae. “Such as~?”

You shook your head, looking away from him. “That’s private.”

There was a quick flash of red, and the tip of his microphone turned your face back towards him - the cool metal of the edge digging into the skin of your cheek. You had to bite back a grimace.

“Not when it concerns me.” His tone was sharp, a stark contrast to the faux politeness he was putting on before. He kept the tip of his microphone where it was to prevent your eyes from looking anywhere but him. “And trust me darling, when it comes to you, everything concerns me.”

His words twisted in your gut. “...I’m not sure what you mean.”

Alastor tutted, his smile widening once more. “Don’t be stupid, darling, it’s unbecoming of you.” The way he said it was patronizing, like he was scolding a child. “You know precisely what I mean, so I’m going to ask again, as much as I hate repeating myself.~”

Cool metal was replaced with the warmth of his hand as he tilted your head up and brought his face frighteningly close to yours.

“Why are you keeping yourself from me?”

It was an odd sensation. Being backed into a corner, both metaphorically and physically. A frightening one that all but yanked on your instincts to do whatever it meant to get the fuck out of there, but you knew that was the worst thing you could do.

Alastor was a predator, a creature designed to prey on those he deemed weaker, and turning your back on a predator would almost certainly trigger a series of events that would not bode well for you.

So you did the next worst thing.

You told him the truth.

“Because I can see you.” The words felt wrong to say out loud. “I can see you for what you are, I can feel the absolute malevolence that radiates off you in waves, and it’s suffocating.”

Saying any more was a horrendous idea, but you couldn’t help but add one last thing.

“And if I want any chance at leaving this god-forsaken place, I can’t be around you.”

The silence that stretched on afterward was deafening.

Mentally, you were bracing yourself. Alastor had killed people for far less, and you expected nothing different for saying something so daring to his face.

You could see it too, the anger that simmered underneath his gaze. You expected the red of his sclera to flash black and his antlers to extend with his body in a grotesque display before you were ripped to pieces while he laughed.

What you didn’t expect was for his eyes to narrow into slits and his expression shift into one that was far more genuine than you wanted it to be, and it was then you knew that being saved from this kind of evil was never going to happen.

“Oh, my dear, you don’t need to worry about something silly like that.” Alastor all but cooed.

“After all, what makes you think I’d ever let you leave?~”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

#riri writes #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Hazbin Hotel #Yandere x Reader #tw yandere #tw implied forced relationship #tw implied captivity #tw toxic relationship #tw possessiveness #tw invasion of personal space #tw noncon touching #I return to my lil nest now. adeu.

[whump-about-it]

Can I Stay Here Tonight?

@whumpril Day 8: Bloodshot

CW: injuries, implied beating, implied torture, implied captivity, exhaustion, implication that Whumpee may be in hiding and/or unhoused

It wasn't unusual for Whumpee to go missing for days or even weeks at a time. No one ever really knew where they went when they disappeared, But they always came back, and usually in one piece. So everyone had long since stopped worrying.

Caretaker had barely even noticed Whumpee was missing again. Only just realizing they hadn't seen them in nearly a week the same night Whumpee showed up again.

It had been raining cats and dogs all day, and Carertaker was having a pleasent evening in, watching trash tv with their roommate and playing a game of cards when the window that lead onto their fire escape eeked open and Whumpee came tumbling in.

"We have a door you know." Roommate told them, barely fazed by Whumpee's random appearance. Whumpee had a talent for slipping in and out of places unnoticed. And considering the late hour, they had probably assumed the roommates would be a sleep.

Whumpee stood up and closed the window again behind them before so much as acknowledging the apartment owners, who stayed on the couch watching them curiously. They were soaking wet. Unsurprising considering they had just climbed three stories on an outdoor stairway. Their usually baggy clothing clung to their skin, reminding Caretaker nauseatingly of just how small Whumpee actually was. It also didn't escape Caretaker's notice that Whumpee was wearing the same clothing that they had been in the last time the two had seen each other; some five days before.

"Sorry to intrude." Whumpee said in a dead pan voice when they finally turned to look at Caretaker and Roommate. They had dark circles under their eyes and a cut next to their left ear. Caretaker thought they looked paler than usual, but it could have just been the way their water-darkened hair stuck to their face.

"I just need to borrow your bathroom."

It was the only explanation Whumpee gave before they walked past Caretaker and Roommate towards their bathroom down the hall, water dripping them their sopping clothes as they went. Caretaker's eyes followed Whumpee as they disappeared. There was a tired slump to their shoulders and an unevenness to their gait that made Caretaker think they were concealing a limp.

"First aid kit's under the sink!" Caretaker called after them, but Whumpee gave no indication of having heard. As soon as Caretaker heard the sound of the bathroom door click shut they turned back to Roommate and frowned. Roommate didn't look too pleased about Whumpee's sudden appearance in their apartment. Those two were not each others biggest fans, but they put up with one another for Caretaker's sake, so Roommate seemed to have decided to keep their mouth shut for now.

"I should go check on them."

Roommate nodded in agreement.

"I'll put a kettle on."

Caretaker went to their room and grabbed a clean pair of sweat pants and a fresh t-shirt they didn't think would be too baggy on Whumpee before giving the bathroom door a courteous knock and entering. They knew Whumpee would have preferred their privacy, and probably would have locked the door if they could. But as it was, the lock on the bathroom door had been broken as long as Caretaker and Roommate had been lived in the place, and it was Caretaker's place after all, so they refused to feel bad about inviting themselves in.

Inside the bathroom Whumpee had stripped down to their underwear and was sitting perched on the edge of the bathtub, the first aid kit sitting open on the lowered toilet lid next to them. Mostly nude, it was obvious Whumpee had been in some kind of trouble. They had bruises all up their torso and arms. There was another scabbing over cut on their collar bone similar to the one by their ear, and shredded up skin on the outside of their left leg from mid-calf to upper thigh that looked like they had lost a fight with a cheese grater. Their knuckles were scabbed and bruised and there were concerningly dark purple bruises around their wrists. The worst of their injuries however seemed to be a series of deep gashes on their forearm that Whumpee was currently picking glass out of with a pair of tweezers.

"I'm fine." Whumpee said defensively, barely looking up at Caretaker as they walked in.

"Yeah, you look fantastic." Caretaker set the clothes down on the vanity and went to crouch next to Whumpee. It was by no means the worst condition Whumpee had ever stumbled into their apartment in, but they didn't look good either. Up close, Caretaker could tell that Whumpee was indeed paler than usual. And their eyes were deeply bloodshot. In fact their whole body language screamed at exhaustion, and Caretaker wondered if they had slept at all since they'd last seen them.

Caretaker knew better than to ask what had happened. Or where Whumpee had disappeared to. Whumpee had never lied to Caretaker, but they would down right refuse to answer such questions. The two had spent days worth of time arguing about it. Caretaker wanted to help. Of course they did, and they'd rather prevent Whumpee from getting hurt than patch them up after the fact. But Whumpee had their secrets, and as they often liked to point out during their fights, Caretaker had known that when their lives had first become intertwined with one another. Caretaker knew Whumpee thought they were protecting them by keeping so many secrets from them. But they also knew Whumpee could disappear and Caretaker would never see or hear from them again if they tried to dig to deep. So they resigned themselves, as they always had, to helping Whumpee where they were permitted too, and praying they knew their limits otherwise.

They watched Whumpee for a few seconds as they tried to pick the pieces of dark colored glass out of their own weeping arm. They weren't doing a very good job of it. Their hands were shaking violently. Whether from cold, or pain, or tiredness, Caretaker didn't know.

"Here, let me." They finally said and plucked the tweezers from Whumpee's trembling hands before they could refuse. It was a testament to just how awful Whumpee must have been feeling that they in fact didn't refuse Caretaker's help, and even turned their arm to give Caretaker a better angle on their wound.

They didn't flinch as Caretaker plucked the tiny pieces of glass from their skin. They almost never did. Caretaker did however pretend not to notice the way their eyes were getting waterier and more bloodshot as they worked. Soon enough all the glass was out of the wound and Caretaker was cleaning it with an alcohol swab and taping a gauze pad over it. Whumpee gave an audible hiss when the alcohol made contact with heir broken skin, but still didn't move. Afterwards, Caretaker insisted that they be aloud to clean the road rash on Whumpee's leg as well before they put clothes back on. Whumpee gave in oddly easily and leaned their head against the wall as Caretaker worked, their red eyes slipping closed slowly.

It must have been the exhaustion that was making them so malleable. Whumpee was never this easy.

"You were hoping Roommate and I wouldn't catch you breaking in didn't you?" Caretaker poked gently as they worked, wondering if Whumpee may just be tired enough to let something slip.

Whumpee hummed in response and nodded vaguely, still not opening their eyes.

"Done it before." They mumbled after a second. The only surprising thing about that was that they admit it.

"Were you in handcuffs?" Caretaker decided to poke a little deeper. They were almost finished with Whumpee's leg, and those bruises on their wrists did look very painful. Even half asleep though Whumpee knew better than to let their guard slip, and the two remained in silence with the unanswered question hanging between them, until Caretaker was finished working and the kettle was whistling in the kitchen.

"There," Caretaker said resolutely when they'd finished. "Now put on the dry clothes, and where ever you want to disappear too tonight, you're at least staying for a cup of tea first."

Caretaker stood to leave, considering where they should situate themselves outside the bathroom to make sure Whumpee didn't slip out any windows without making it look like they were hovering. Before they could make it more than two steps however, Whumpee had reached out a hand and weakly grabbed Caretakers wrist.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Whumpee asked in a meek tired voice. They looked up at Caretaker with what they could have only describe as puppy eyes. If puppies eyes were usually glassed over and bloodshot that is. It was still enough to crumble any resolve Caretaker might have had about the situation, if there had ever been any in the first place. Whumpee rarely asked Caretaker for anything, and they had never asked to spend the night. Whatever had happened to them this time, it must have been worse their physical injuries let on.

"Of Course you can. You never have to ask that. You're always welcome here."

#whump drabble #whumpee x caretaker #whump #whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #bloodshot #stoic whumpee #tw injuries #tw implied torture #tw implied captivity #tw implied unhoused whumpee

[serickswrites]

Tender is the Night

Part 2

Warnings: self sacrifice, implied torture, implied captivity

"No! No! I won't let you!" Caretaker screamed. They couldn't let Whumpee do this. Couldn't let Whumpee go with Whumper. "Please! Take me. Please!"

Whumper chuckled darkly. "I'll let you say goodbyes to Caretaker, Whumpee. You have five minutes." They stepped out into the unusually warm, autumn night.

"Please," Caretaker started as tears filled their eyes. "I don't want you to do this for me. Me. Let them take me."

"Shhh, shhh, it's ok. It's ok. Come here." Whumpee cupped Caretaker's cheek and smiled tenderly. They seemed to search Caretaker's face for answers. "I love you. I can't let Whumper have you. I won't."

"I can't live without you," Caretaker sobbed. They stared at Whumpee, trying to memorize every detail. Trying to sear the face they loved most into their mind.

"You will. You have to, Caretaker. You have to live for the both of us. I'd rather go with Whumper knowing that you are going to have a long and happy life."

"I can't live without you," Caretaker repeated as Whumpee wrapped arms around them.

"You will." They kissed Caretaker tenderly before rising. "I love you, Caretaker. I'll never forget you." And they, too, stepped out into the night.

#serickswrites #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #tw self sacrifice #tw implied torture #tw implied captivity #queue

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

wrote a little something for the primeboys eggpocalypse au!

TWs: apocalyptic scenarios, restraints, dehumanisation (both negative and “positive”), religious themes, accidental misgendering, implied abuse/captivity.

—

in the deepest depths of the tainted lands, they say, well past the impenetrable walls of red vines, there is a boy.

around campfires and tents from those trying to outrun it, told under flickering lights in the impenetrable bunkers that have more and more red and white blossoms sneaking through the cracks every day, the story is told and retold. distorted by time, added on to by those who think it’s merely a fanciful legend. some say it’s a simple fairy tale, others swear they've seen him with their own eyes.

he is not possessed. that’s the constant about him. despite being in the belly of the beast, his eyes shine blue. no one quite agrees on the shade- some say they are a light, baby blue, others an electric teal, others say they’re deep and dark like the oceans- but they are blue, like two little oasis’s in the desert of red and grey.

most agree he's a teenager. some say he must be barely such, others say on the cusp of becoming a man, but even as the decades drag on he never seems to become one. he wears red and white- some describe his outfit as the same of thrown together hoodie and sweatpants a pre-end teen might have always worn, some say he is dressed in ritual clothing, others in fanciful, dolllike apparel.

his hair is gold, except for when it’s the colour of the moon, or a soft ginger, or a mousy brown. it is in curls, or maybe is simply wavy. usually, it is shoulder length, sometimes longer, rarely shorter. always, there are flowers and vines of the foul hatched beast woven into it, and adorning his neck, his wrists, his ankles like shackles.

even the boy indeed being a boy remains in dispute- some say that perhaps it is simply a tomboyish girl, while others say that assigning what so clearly must be more than a mere mortal gender is presumptuous in and of itself.

some say that he's an aspect of the demonic hatchling himself, some hidden good side to its ravages. some say he is a god here to dispel the corruption. others say he is simply a mortal child with a sharp wit. one dark haired man from far away sobs “that’s my brother, that’s my brother” whenever the topic is brought up, and his clear madness is pitied.

he is kind. that much is indisputable. some say he guides those lost to freedom, some say he provides non-tainted food and drink to those on the verge of death. some say he can distract from the shambling corrupted, them treating him with an unusual level of placidity. some even say he talked down the corrupted general with a smile carved on his lips, though most believe that one is too far fetched, for the man in the mask cares for naught but wanton slaughter and pale revenge.

too many claim that this child has saved them for it to be untrue. some people erect shrines, burning candles and saying small prayers to the Boy in Chains, the Soother of the Beast, the Lost Survivor. his strength is undeniable, his will unstoppable, and such a thing must be maintained. a holy being deserves that much. deserves to know how loved he is.

far, far away, tommy just wants the pain to stop.

#my writing #dream smp #primeboys (derogatory) #tw restraints #tw dehumanisation #tw religious themes #tw implied abuse #tw implied captivity

[whump-allthe-way]

whumpee being so dehumanised and stripped of their human rights that when they’re rescued a simple “what do you want for dinner?” sends them spiralling >>

#whump blog #whump community #whump-all-the-way #whumpblr #whump #kidnapped whumpee #dehumanisation tw #implied captivity #implied caretaker #whumpee #implied whumper #whump scenario #whump writing #whump tropes #whump prompt #writing prompt #im trying to start this blog over again so hi ! if u remember me !

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

31st Story

Part 2

TW: Captivity, implied past torture, blood mention, restraints, mistrust, starvation mention, defiant whumpee, corrupt system, knife

Heyyy! Long-time no see. I blame college 100% because it takes up all my time, seriously. Happy New Year tho 💙

Villain could tell himself he was already used to the cold, hard embrace of the dull rock of his cell, to the claustrophobia-inducing lack of windows, to the fact that the only times he ever got to see the light was when someone walked in to beat him senseless, a feat made incredibly easy with the help of the chains that shackled his wrists and ankles, not allowing for much movement.

He could pretend that being covered in blood and filth, dazed and starving, was nothing to him, that the maddening urge to find out what time it was wasn't gnawing at him torturously.

"In here, wishful thinking is all you are capable of," a sunken-faced, old prisoner had told him before he was thrown into his personal hellhole. He hadn't said anything, but he'd believed the old hag to be weak and hopeless, and thus so was her sentiment.

Right now, all he wondered was if he'd break even faster than that woman might have. The villain screwed his eyes shut, hoping it would stop the chain of thoughts poisoning his mind, but all that did was make him think clearer, every disturbing image he tried so desperately to expel growing clearer and more vivid by the moment.

It was bad enough handling the physical pain, where every time he so much as shifted his form slightly, the tormented muscles in his back would scream in protest. But the physical side was tolerable, compared to being left at the mercy of his mind; a cruel, sinister thing.

So consumed he was in his own reverie, he hadn't even noticed as the door to his cell was unlocked, at least not until the light skirting around the corner had him snapping his eyes open and sitting up.

"This doesn't look good on you," a silky, almost serpentine voice called out.

"Superhero?" he asked, despising the note of trepidation in his voice.

"No. Just her lacklustre twin," she scoffed.

"Vigilante," he deduced with a slight fall of his shoulders in relief. It's not that he believed Vigilante would treat him well, it's just that no one could rival Superhero in cruelty.

"Still ever the genius," she responded dryly.

"What do you want?" he asked, almost desperate. If she was here to torment him, he wanted her to get over with it. It was becoming progressively more difficult to bear the state in which he was in, the one chock-full of waiting and thinning patience, of hoping the pain would start so it could end, that this time would pass faster.

Except it never did.

"It's strange seeing someone normally so high and mighty like this," she attested, dodging his question.

The older version of him would have let out a frustrated snarl and cussed her out for annoying him, but now all he could do was bite his tongue and stare at her with his new resting face, broken and defeated.

"Well, I'm not here to hurt you," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

That was a response, albeit an indirect one. And of course, she wasn't here to hurt him. She was here to make sure he was comfortable, that he was enjoying his five-star stay in this resort in hell.

Sucks to have an army of enemies and not a single semblance of a friend.

He and Vigilante hadn't really had any direct bad blood, but he was a villain locked up in here, so by default, he was supposed to be her enemy, right? It didn't matter who walked in here or whether they knew him or not. They just loved to see him break, to see him, once so relentlessly powerful, reduced to less than nothing. Perhaps it brought them a sort of sick satisfaction, but he didn't know much about satisfaction anymore to judge.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she said casually, like promising him the impossible was some sort of small punishment, nothing to tear himself up about. Maybe she could rival her sister in cruelty.

Without warning, a hysterical laugh escaped his throat, only for him to bite his lip and stop abruptly, trying to clamp a hand over his mouth only for him to remember he was chained up.

Vigilante's face fell, and his own had silent tears streaming down it. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, as though bricks were raining down on his shoulders and crushing his bones into nothing. His whole being seemed to itch with dread.

"Villain?" Vigilante called out, looking a mixture of confused and horrified.

"Just get over with it! Torture me until the floor runs red with my blood, tell me how death is a mercy above vermin like myself, and tell me to take it with a smile. Hit me harder when I can't bring myself to do it. Hit me until I feel all the pain of death but never attain it. Remember my current words as defiance, as another crime I've committed. I think watching me be humbled to the nothing I truly am will entertain you as any show would," he spat, only for regret to colour his features just as fast.

"Damn it. Villain, I don't want to do. . .any of this to you," Vigilante started, careful, trying for a semblance of gentle, something she was never particularly good at. "Like I said, I'm going to get you out of here," she continued again, hoping the stern tone indicated she was serious and not somehow going to torture him.

She'd never particularly liked him, mainly because he'd always been ice-cold, calculated to a point he seemed inhuman at times, no emotion whatsoever showing up on his face, besides a cool smugness. And by virtue of all the terrible things he'd done, all the blood on his hands. And yet, he was far from the worst thing out there, and most definitely not the villain in her story.

"And let's pretend you're telling the truth, which is completely fine by me because any mercy I've ever had here has always been a pretence, a figment of my imagination, you know. What could you possibly gain from this?" He raised an eyebrow, bearing a small resemblance to his usual self. Well, at least there was a slight amount of fight left in him, even if he was clearly holding back tears now.

But the villain's question wasn't completely outlandish. Vigilante did want something from him, but it wasn't a favour he would ever come to hate. "I need your help. My sister may seem like the goddamn tooth fairy to those who don't know better, but we know what her regime is really doing. This isn't about fighting crime, it's about her insatiable addiction to power."

"And where do I belong here?" The villain's voice still held the same disbelieving tone, his shoulders managing to tense even further.

"You're one of the few people who challenged her, Villain. And as much as it pains me to say it, you're a good strategist," she explained, even though she knew she'd barely convinced him in the slightest.

"I can't be the only one fitting that description, but I can be the only one owing you a favour too," he answered. Even if he didn't look half as confident, half as untouchable as before, the criminal was still just as clever. But it also meant he wasn't believing her anytime soon. Still, he wasn't wrong. The villain may not have smelled like roses all the time, but he'd be loyal to make sure they were even; a man of his word.

"What's it gonna be, Villain? Come with me or stay here?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest, growing impatient.

Well, it didn't make sense for her to give him a choice if she was going to torture him, but sense no longer governed things in his mind, letting a fearful apprehension replace it, no matter how humiliating. The choice could easily be an illusion, another cruel joke in this comedy skit from the filthiest parts of hell.

But it could be a chance, and he was desperate. So desperate he'd risk feeling even further degraded when she laughed in his face and put him through whatever torment she'd have planned.

"Fine," he answered, looking up at her with trepidation in his eyes. He could already feel the regret tasting like salt on his tongue and the burn of acid at the back of his throat he recognised as shame.

So when the sound of his chains being unlocked rang in his ears, and the vigilante helped him up, the feeling of surprise was palpable.

"I just need to handcuff you while they can see us," she explained, noticing how slowly the villain nodded, mistrust still burning in his eyes.

She didn't like how weightless he seemed against her, barely able to walk. She hadn't fought him much, but she clearly remembered that while his frame was somewhat slender, the villain's build still used to be athletic. It was no surprise he'd deteriorated, but that didn't make his fate any less cruel.

"I'm moving him to the other facility," she announced, practically dragging the half-starved villain with her, the only response being curt nods from the guards.

They were lucky that no one here would dare question Superhero and by default, her sister, if they could even tell the difference between both.

And sure enough, there was an entry documented into the other facility, done with the help of a few handsomely paid workers. And while Superhero wouldn't buy into the lie for long, it would at least make sure she didn’t notice immediately that something was up.

✨️Break✨️

The drive to Vigilante's house was almost torturously long and reeking of the tension of two people who weren't used to each other. The villain ran his fingers over his wrists, now free of handcuffs, but they still hurt. All of him hurt, a constant, dull pain that he was almost used to, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the times where he could remember moments without aches all over his body.

That was only the least of it anyway.

"I think you'd want to clean up," the vigilante had suggested when they'd got to her house.

Instead of an off-hand "yeah" like he'd meant to, the first words that foolishly came tumbling out of his mouth were: "I can?"

This wasn't an option they gave him back there, and soon enough he'd stopped caring entirely.

"Oh," Vigilante had responded, giving him a solemn look. "I mean, yes, of course you can," she corrected hastily.

He nodded, quite literally shoving himself into the bathroom and swallowing down the awkward shame in his throat.

He'd grown so accustomed to pain that he'd barely even noticed the sting of the hot water on his open, practically fresh wounds, or how the shower water underneath him turned a dull pink. He was a lot more focused on how his sore muscles relaxed with the heat, how he seemed to get lighter with all the dirt off him, good sensations having become foreign to him in the time of his captivity.

He walked out to find a change of clothes (his clothes) on the bed in the room outside, catching his reflection in the mirror, bruises lining his cheekbones and jaw and heavy, dark circles underneath his eyes. The villain simply ignored the old memories of himself taking the time to style his hair and care for his skin, his mind hardwired for survival, looking around the room for anything he could use in case he had to defend himself.

Not that Vigilante was stupid enough for that.

Still, if she wished to hurt him, she could've done it faster, could've done it earlier. Maybe the villain wouldn't trust her blindly, but so far, he hated her less bitterly than he hated everyone else.

"How'd you get these?" he asked, walking out, looking down at the black zip-up hoodie and black sweats.

Vigilante shrugged. "From your place."

"You broke into my- whatever." It wasn't the strangest part about the situation now. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I think you need to rest," she suggested.

And she was entirely correct, given his exhaustion and how the shower had made him somewhat sleepy, so he nodded his head, walking into "his" room and waiting until she walked up to her room, waiting until he could walk out and check if she'd slept, and once he was sure, he walked into the kitchen, picking up a knife and bringing it to his room.

The villain knew it was scummy, but he wasn't about to risk being hurt again, and if the vigilante truly had good intentions, the knife would never be put to use. Still, the villain had managed to fall into a fitful sleep, still better than any night he spent curled up on a cold, hard floor.

Trust is never easy, especially for those who have been hurt one too many times. But people were not made to live forever encased in solitude, a safe option to the blind and foolish, but never a permanent solution. And while taking a risk in times of suffering might seem like a wretched fate, sometimes it is the lifeline you need to breathe again.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

#prompt #hero x villain #vigilante x villain #superhero #evil superhero #morally grey vigilante #corrupt system #tw blood #tw implied past torture #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw defiant whumpee #tw anxiety #tw knife #heroes and villains community #natalia's writing #original fiction #writers on tumblr #whump #villain whumpee #vigilante caretaker #rescue #whumpee x caretaker #hurt/comfort #hmmm might write more #villain is a pathetic meow meow #i love him

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

"Whumpee asked for you specifically, A. I'll let you in to see them," Whumpee's medic and lover, Caretaker, said.

A couldn’t believe it. Whumpee wanted to see them? Before their best friend, B? After they sacrificed themself and were tortured by Whumper for months because of them?

They followed Caretaker, refusing to let them down, even as their face burned with shame, guilt gnawing at their insides.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leader Whumpee sat in the wheelchair, whiteboard sitting across their blanketed lap as Caretaker opened the door for A, the younger, sibling-like member of Team. A's breath hitched, eyes widening.

"They’re okay, A," Caretaker assured them. "Their throat is still healing, and they're still weak, but they're going to be okay."

A nodded, Caretaker letting out a deep breath. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to give the two of you some privacy. I have some things to attend to." The door shut behind them, leaving A standing before Whumpee, unable to meet their eyes at the sight of matching wounds from Whumper.

Whumpee's eyes burned with the shame of being unable to even give A a hug, or tell them that none of this was their fault. They attempted a smile, scribbling on their board.

"I missed you."

A's eyes welled with tears. "I'm so sorry, Whumpee," they whispered, hands curling into fists.

Whumpee shook their head vigorously, scribbling big letters on the board before tapping it when their marker. A looked up, hiccuping when they saw the message.

"It’s not your fault. They would've just killed you and taken me anyways. It's not your fault."

As A sank to their knees, they wrapped their arms around Whumpee in a hug, holding back tears as they pressed their face into the blanket.

#whump prompt #whumpee #tw: trauma #caretaker #tw: angst #tw: violence #tw: torture #tw: captivity #tw: throat whump #tw: implied strangulation #tw: muscle atrophy #tw: crying #tw: guilt #found family #team whump #whumper

[whumperofworlds]

A Whumper with a gun who goes "eeny meeny miny moe" towards two Whumpees. The two Whumpees are holding each other tightly, begging the Whumper to spare their partner instead. But Whumpee continues their game, pointing their gun and switching between the two every word they said in their game.

"Eeny..."

"Pleasee spare Whumpee A!"

"Meeny..."

"No! Spare Whumpee B!"

"Miny..."

"PLEASE DON'T!"

"MOE!"

*gunshot sound*

#whump #whump prompt #gun tw #captivity #begging #self sacrifice #multiple whumpees #whumper #whumpee #implied character death #neither of them die to me but just in case

[cpt-winters]

...more Team Leader snippets, please?

Ask and ye shall receive

Forced to Watch *Team Leader Edition* (Part 2, Part 3)

Leader cracked an eye open at the dull thud of Whumper's boots hitting the stairs. He squirmed to sit upright, propping his back up against the wall. "I'm not going to talk, Whumper," Leader warned as they drew nearer. He winced as he straightened up. "You'll never get those coordinates," he said firmly, not daring to let the pain leak into his voice.

Whumper calmly crouched in front of Leader, a roll of duct tape in hand. "Oh, I don't need you to talk anymore," they said with a tinge of glee that Leader tried to ignore. "We're trying something new today."

"Wh-...mmf." Leader didn't get the first word out before Whumper started taping his mouth closed. With his ankles and wrists already bound, the only protest Leader could offer was a steely glare as Whumper wrapped further unnecessary layers of tape over his mouth and back around his head.

Whumper stood up and stepped back, admiring their handiwork for a second before grabbing the chair tucked away in the corner and dragging it into the centre of the room. Leader cringed as the metal legs scraped against the concrete floor.

"Once provided with sufficient motivation, I'm sure your team will be more than willing to tell me what I want to know." Whumper smiled but gave no further elaboration as a handful of their henchmen poured into the room. One set up a tripod directly opposite the chair, mounting a camera atop it as the others moved towards him. Leader's eyes widened as he realized what Whumper meant by 'sufficient motivation.'

A moment later, the henchmen had him pinned face-down on the floor as they undid his restraints and hauled him over to the chair. Any movement proved almost impossible as their iron grip on Leader's limbs barely faltered, despite his intense struggles. He managed a kick to one of their stomach's before being fully secured to the seat. The victory of the blow was short-lived, only earning him several hard wacks across the face.

Leader let out a muffled groan as warm liquid trickled down from his nose, leaving a crimson trail over the tape covering most of his lower face. His stomach churned as a little red light on the camera steadily blinked as Whumper stepped closer. Leader shirked away, angling his face to the side as it burnt with shame at the thought of his team watching this.

"How long do you think they can watch before they give me what you refuse to, hm?" Whumper brought their knife to the side of Leader's face, gently gliding it down its side, not yet piercing the skin. The touch was ghostly light, a mockery of what was to come. "Will they watch you break, Captain?" Whumper chuckled before their hand roughly seized Leader's jaw, forcing their eyes to meet. "Maybe you can handle that..." Whumper pondered. "But can your team?"

#whump #team leader whump #whump scenario #whump snippet #leader whump #team whump #captivity whump #implied torture #forced to watch #interrogation whump #stoic whumpee #tw knives #Whump Thing I Wrote 6 #sadistic whumper #team dynamics #angst #restraints whump

[theheartwhumpswhatitwhumps]

I love the dynamic of a talkative whumpee and a stoic whumper. Especially a comedic/lighthearted whumpee who uses humor as a coping mechanism

Because it’s the perfect storm for Whumpee to be cracking jokes, trying to make small talk with the villain or the sidekicks, hoping someone will have mercy because come on, they’re just a little guy. And the rising panic as they realize that no one is responding. In fact, few are even looking straight at them.

All the while Whumper walks slowly and deliberately to a torture tool Whumpee hadn’t noticed until now

Whumpee’s slow gulp before they pour all their charm, all their wit, all their thirst for approval into a grin so bright it could reflect off the face of a blade. But Whumper’s face remains immovable as ever, eyes slightly crinkled at the edges with what could be disgust or mild amusement.

“Woah wait,” Whumpee stammers, trying to push away. “Wait now, now hold on, let’s talk about this.”

Whumper’s head tilts a fraction to the side as if to say there’s been enough of that.

Words pour lightning fast from Whumpee’s mouth. Sloppy one-liners, pleading babble, Later, they can’t remember what exactly they said, only that the power they once found in words was ripped from them like a scream.

#heartwhump #whump #comedic Whumpee #humor as a coping mechanism #stoic whumper #talkative Whumpee #Whumpee #whumper #torture mention #implied torture #torture tw #captive whumpee

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Idk if I can ask this of youuuu buuuuut hear me out. Chrollo right right. Taking you to the aquarium

I am hearing you loud and clear, my friend 💛

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapped reader, Implied captivity.

Word Count: 411

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Chrollo’s voice came from your left, but you didn’t look towards him to acknowledge what he said. Instead your eyes remained on the enormous wall of glass that separated you from thousands, if not millions of gallons of water.

The creature in question that earned that comment from Chrollo was drifting by slowly. If someone didn’t know any better, they’d call the movements aimless. Without purpose.

“Dearest?”

“I heard you.” You replied flatly, not looking away from the whale shark swimming no more than twenty feet away from you.

He hummed. “Millions of years on this earth, and still they remain the same.”

You glanced at him briefly, knowing well that he had more to say than just that. You decided to humour him.

“Why would there be any need to?” The whale shark adjusted its course to swim further towards the middle of its massive tank. “Their environment has been stable enough that evolving in response to any change isn’t necessary.”

“True.” He said. “But even still, it’s such a shame such magnificence doesn’t do well in captivity.”

You grunted. “Couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that replicating their environment is almost impossible.” One of your hands went out to gesture to the whale shark as its form grew more desaturated due to distance. “Pelagic species like this don’t belong here.”

“Perhaps this is the moment they needed, then.”

An expression of confusion and mild annoyance spread across your face. “What?”

“To change.” He continued. “They’ve barely evolved because there hasn’t been any need to, correct? Perhaps time in captivity is the stepping stone into that.”

“You can’t be serious.” You scoffed. “You realize that evolution takes millions upon millions of generations to occur, right? There’s no way in hell that would be able to happen, not in this lifetime.”

“Perhaps not evolution, but adaptation.”

“It’s in the same vein.” You argued, getting agitated by how dismissive he was on something that was so obvious to you. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Why ever not? If a species as complicated as a human can change their behaviour to suit their environment, surely a creature that has had little change in its initial design could as well.”

The was an ever growing urge to swat at him, and you had to clench your jaw to suppress it. “What’s your point, Chrollo?”

He smiled as his eyes moved between you and the aquarium.

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2023. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

#riri writes #900 followers event #Chrollo #Chrollo x Reader #Chrollo Lucilfer #Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader #HxH #Hunter x Hunter #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw implied captivity #tw captivity #love my moots #sweet shadow

[3-2-whump]

Rescue: The Informant, Part Three

Because You Want to See a Conclusion on This Story, Right?

<prev

TW/CW: captive whumpee, imprisoned whumpee, torture aftermath, mention of religion (unspecified), degradation, implied noncon, not necessarily suicidal ideation but a morbid acceptance of death, uncertain fate of a character

The first thing he woke up to was the smell of smoke in the darkness. He stirred lightly on the concrete beneath him, cracking his eyes open and instantly regretting it. Smoke and heat were seeping through the crack at the bottom of the cell door, and there was already enough to sting his eyes and burn his lungs. He coughed, then wildly scrabbled his broken fingers against the collar on his neck, desperate to find a buckle or a clasp or something to unlatch it from the chain mounted above him. He heard the muffled sound of crackling flames, firing bullets, and screams beyond the door. His increasing panic made the collar and leash tighten like a noose, slowly choking him along with the smoke pouring in-

Wait, why are you fighting this? It’s over. His hands fell limply away from his neck.

It’s over. It’s finally over. This is how you die.

The closet grew hotter and stuffier with the fire encroaching and the smoke rising in, yet he was calm as he closed his eyes and positioned his sore body back-first against the wall. Never in his worst nightmares did he ever think he’d have to say the Liturgy of the Dead for himself, but a lot had transpired in merely two months, and his worst nightmares had come true.

I’m sorry, if You’re listening, he cried with his whole heart, I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He opened his mouth and moved his lips reverently, his raspy voice soon following. “We gather here, Oh Great One, Divine, to mourn the passing of-”

The door broke down and interrupted his prayers. His eyes snapped open just in time to see an unfamiliar figure clad head to toe in black rush towards him. “Whumpee!”

Who?

Oh yeah, me! It had been so long since anyone had ever called him something other than ‘scum,’ ‘bastard,’ ‘fuck toy,’ ‘holes,’ etc., that he had almost forgotten his own name. The man crouching by his side pulled down his mask, showing him a familiar face he could not exactly recall. This man’s brows furrowed with concern as he brushed his tangled hair out of his eyes and cupped his face in his hands.

“You’re okay, we’re okay,” he murmured, “I’m getting you out of here.” The man’s eyes flashed towards the chain bolted to the wall above them, then to the collar on Whumpee’s throat. He turned his head and yelled outside the door. “Hey! Bring me the axe!”

Another man, Lieutenant, came in wielding a heavy, suspiciously red and wet-looking axe in both hands, pausing as he rushed to the first man’s side. “What the –Leader, what happened to him?”

Leader? Team Leader? Unbidden memories of a friendly face smiling at him and comforting arms holding him close flooded Whumpee’s mind.

“Swing at the wall where the chain is mounted,” Team Leader directed. 

Another friendly face and set of comforting arms flickered across Whumpee’s mind. “W-wait, where’s Caretaker?” he murmured. “He’s one of them, but-”

Team Leader shushed him. “We know, we know. Save your strength. Let’s worry about you right now, okay?” Notably, he didn’t look Whumpee in the eye.

“But, Caretaker-”

Two well-directed swings of the axe were all it took to sever the chain from the wall. Without wasting any time at all, Team Leader scooped Whumpee into his arms. “-Is fine. He’s fine,” he insisted, hoisting him up to a standing positon. Again, he could not meet Whumpee’s eyes. “Now, can you walk?” Team Leader asked, casting a concerned look to his mangled feet.

Is this a dream? Am I dead? Is any of this really happening? This is a lot to take in.

Whumpee tiredly shook his head. Wordlessly, his captain took the axe out of the big guy’s hands and slung it over his shoulder as Lieutenant picked up Whumpee gently to carry him. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Team Leader said. “We got who we came for.”

Against the chest of the bigger man who carried him, Whumpee let his eyes close and his body relax. Whether this was a hallucination before death, or an actual rescue, at least it meant this nightmare was over. That was enough for him right now.

Le Taglist: @whumperofworlds @whumped-by-glitter

#whump writing #captive whumpee #whump #torture mention #team whump #tw death ideation/acceptance #tw uncertain fate of a character #tw religion mention #tw implied noncon

[serickswrites]

Hai just wanted to say your writing absolutely rocks. Your style always stands out in drabbles and I genuinely love seeing each new post about tropes and situations I’ve never thought of before. Also the way you write caretaker/whumper twists is just 👌

Hello, Anon! Thank you so much! You flatter me so much I am blushing. I am so glad you enjoy what I put out there.

Please enjoy a little drabble for stopping by and making my day!

Warnings: injury, head injury, unconsciousness, implied captivity

"Fuck," Whumpee gasped as their knees gave out. Whatever had fallen from the shelf they had been trying to reach had been heavy and their head hurt.

As they fell forward, they realized it was much worse than they thought. They tried to blink around the black spots filling their vision, but it was useless. "H-H-Help," they called weakly hoping that Caretaker would hear them.

"Whumpee? Were you able to reach the book?" Caretaker called from the other room.

Whumpee swallowed around the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm them. "N-N-No," they stammered.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker came into the room. "Oh, no! I told you to be careful of the shelves." Caretaker dropped to their knees beside Whumpee. "Shhh, shhhh, you're ok, I've got you. You'll be ok," Caretaker murmured as they began to move Whumpee.

Whumpee lost time because they suddenly realized they were laying in Caretaker's bed. How had they gotten there? They tried to speak, but found that their tongue was so heavy and clumsy in their mouth. And though that should have sparked fear, Whumpee knew that Caretaker would look after them and make them safe. That was the only comforting thought Whumpee had as they slipped into the darkness of unconsciousness once more.

Caretaker smiled from Whumpee's bedside. It had been so easy. Whumpee always wanted to help them. Always believed the best of them. And so when Caretaker Whumper decided it was finally time to act on their desires to keep Whumpee, to hurt Whumpee endlessly, they knew Whumpee would never suspect. Whumper smiled as they watched Whumpee remain unconscious. "We are going to have such fun once you are awake again."

#serickswrites #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #tw injury #tw head injury #tw unconsciousness #tw implied captivity #asks #queue

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Surrender An Ask Game! - "Dreadful Meetings"

CW: dehumanization, captivity, implied past torture.

Heheheehe, this has been quite fun! Hope you all enjoy what I cooked up! <33

Ask game made by: @epiclamer & @save-the-villainous-cat

What is the game about?

~~~~

Ask submitted by @livingforthewhump

Prompt: "This is hyper specific, and probably doesn’t make much sense, but imagine Whumpee was originally part of a team, before Whumper took them. Maybe a few months pass, and Whumper has a meeting with their team Leader over something completely unrelated. 

Maybe this is a league of Villains bargaining with a League of Heroes or something. Whumpee is leashed and collared with a muzzle over their face, kneeling at Whumper’s side. At some point, the meeting turns ugly, with Leader being (understandably) distressed seeing Whumpee in such a state, and starts threatening Whumper. At which point the Whumpee starts 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 at their former team leader.

Whether they’re genuinely so far gone that they see themself as less than human, making animal noises, or they’re trying to speak through the muzzle is irrelevant. Both parties are in shock. Whumper is delighted, and 100% rubs it in team Leader’s face, but team Leader suddenly loses their will to fight.

Bonus points if the Whumpee is quite big and muscular.”

~~~~~~~~

The door swung open with a soft creak as Leader entered the room. They stood tall, chin held high with a perfectly blank expression in the face of their enemy. The villain greeted them with an equally blank facade, shaking hands before guiding them to a pair of chairs.

Even before the leader got a chance to sit down, they noticed the third presence in the room... and promptly ignored it. Their heart couldn’t handle seeing yet another person suffering. With so much already weighing on their shoulders, they paid the stranger no mind.

Villain would fall soon enough. They just had to push through. Just push through…

The two foes quickly plunged into conversation, discussing the Hero League’s most recent offer. It was important... and yet sounded more and more like mindless buzzing to Leader’s ears the longer it went on.

They spoke their piece expertly, doing their best to convince the villain to agree, but their focus kept drifting away. The leader’s eyes couldn’t help but glance at the unfortunate soul kneeling by Villain’s feet.

Despite their attempts at doing otherwise, Leader studied the stranger closer. Their muscular body - clearly fit and powerful - was covered by shaggy rags with a thick, leather muzzle covering half of their face.

“A guard dog…” the leader surmised in their head. “Dear god, they have so many scars… What has this bastard put them through…?”

Anger boiled in Leader’s veins the longer they stared. To subject a fellow human to such horrors, such degradation, it’s… it’s…!

A cold dread washed over them for a split second. “It’s… Whumpee…?”

When those once shining eyes met theirs, the recognition of their lost teammate set Leader’s fury ablaze once more. In the short time they had frozen and stared at the whumpee, Villain noticed their realization.

With a knowing smirk, the criminal asked, “Do you like my pet? I trained it myself.”

The leader’s fists clenched hard enough to go numb, their teeth grinding together as they spoke. They whipped towards Villain with a fiery stare. “You…”

Jumping to their feet abruptly, Leader knocked the chair backwards in their rage and loomed over the enemy. “What have you done to them?!”

The villain, to their credit, appeared unfazed if not amused.

Their smug face only raised the leader’s anger to levels they had never thought possible. “I swear, if you don’t release them at once–” Leader began their threat, but the moment they took a step forward, their words fell silent when a growling sound filled the air.

Surprised, their head snapped to the source of it, finding nothing but the whumpee.

Their lost teammate was staring at them with wide eyes, snarling like the rabid dog they had been degraded to. Every muscle in their body was suddenly taut, ready to spring forward should their master be endangered.

That was why Villain had never bothered to stand; they had no need to.

The coldness in Leader’s chest came back tenfold, suffocating whatever fight had just been there. They… didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for them, once the villain had gotten their fill of causing anguish, they chirped, “I’d advise you to sit back down, Leader. I’m willing to overlook this little… tantrum of yours and get back to business.”

Tantrum. Tantrum…

Villain’s lips had twitched with such vile amusement at the word. Leader didn’t want to “get back to business”! They wanted to grab Whumpee and get the hell out of there! Their teammate was right there!

But alas… they couldn’t.

Whatever remained of the whumpee they knew, so feral and destroyed, drove them to a feeling of defeat. They fell back into their chair.

The growling stopped, and Whumpee spared them no second glance.

Villain’s smile only grew as Leader’s soul cracked into ever-tinier pieces. The anger was gone, replaced with a shameful exhaustion they couldn’t bring themself to oppose.

The meeting continued, but Leader barely paid the words any mind. Their thoughts raced, relentlessly bashing their psyche with a mental crowbar.

“How could I have failed so horribly? Do I… even deserve to be called a leader?”

#surrenderanask #surrender an ask #writeblr #writing #whump #hero x villain #hero x villain community #smuwfy #some messed up writing for you #tw: dehumanization #tw: captivity #tw: implied torture

[catchildren]

Hey quick tip, if your Whumpee is acting up you're actually supposed to parade them around in front of a tied up Caretaker, horrified to see their loved one stripped bare and covered in scars. You should probably also fuck your Whumpee in front of Caretaker for good measure, brutalizing them while you taunt Caretaker with how good they feel. You also wanna make sure your Whumpee is properly trained to cling onto you for comfort after the fact, vocalizing their gratitude that you'd give them any modicum of attention, never once looking Caretaker in the eye.

Just a suggestion, though, idk.

#catc originals #nsfwhump #captivity whump #implied anyways but this could really be used for anything #for a captivity whump hater I sure keep thinking about it huh #tw noncon

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 20: “You will regret touching them”

Aaaaand now for today’s fic

Read on Ao3

- Warriors & Time

- Summary: Time finds a wounded Warriors

CW for implied/referenced torture, captivity, nonconsensual body modification, blood and injury, and brief mention of vomit

———————————————-

If he clenches his teeth any harder, Time is certain they will break.

He stands in the middle of a cell – small, cramped, and smelling of sweat and vomit and blood – hands in fists, heart thumping an erratic beat in his ears. A blue eye stares up at him from the corner, bright in a too-pale face. The other is sealed shut with swelling and blood. The proud green tunic is sullied as well, the scarf long gone. Blonde hair so meticulously cared for lies limp and filthy. Strong hands tremble, bound together behind a hunched back.

“Captain.” It is half a whisper, half a low growl.

Warriors makes a small, muffled noise as though trying to respond through the dirty cloth tied tight between his lips. Time’s fingernails dig into his palm.

Here before him sits the hero he and his brothers have spent the last week searching for. He should feel relief. All he can feel is red-hot anger.

But there isn’t time for that. Warriors needs him. His big brother needs him.

Sheathing his sword, Time drops to his knees. Puddles of blood dot the floor, some mere splatterings, others worryingly large. He pays them no heed, reaching forward instead to tug away the gag. Warriors breathes a raspy sigh of relief as it falls.

“...bout-bout time you showed up, S-Sprite,” he teases in a voice so hoarse it’s nearly unrecognizable. His breath catches in his throat and he coughs up a mouthful of blood.

Time does his best to ignore it.

“I’m sorry that we kept you waiting,” he murmurs as he sets about undoing the ropes that bind the captain’s hands and feet. The apology tastes bitter. What good does it do now? The heroes had gone as fast as they could. And still, they had been too late.

Warriors shivers, suddenly, and Time is struck by how very small he looks.

“But don’t worry,” he says, gently, trying not to dwell on the fact that his big brother should never look that way, “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

Warriors gives him a weak smile.

A few more short moments slide by, in which Time works to untie the ropes. They are thickly knotted, but he has slipped from far tighter bonds. And soon they fall away to join the filth on the floor. Warriors lets out a sharp hiss of pain.

“S-shoulder,” he explains at Time’s concerned look. “Dislocated.”

That can’t be the only thing out of place, Time thinks, bitterly. The way he is struggling to breathe speaks to a few broken ribs at least. And as for the rest of him…well, he can only guess at the extent of the damage.

Anger flares up in him once more. He shoves it down.

“I don’t have Hyrule’s healing powers,” he says, reaching into his pouch. “But I have a fairy. Her magic should be enough to tide you over until I can get you back to camp.”

Warriors blinks dazedly. “You…you’re the only one h-here?”

A grim smile pulls at Time’s lips. “Yes. I came across this place entirely by chance. The others were taking a short rest and I saw no reason to drag them along on a search that would likely lead to another deadend. It’s alright, though. No one is here anymore…except for you.”

If they had been they would have regretted it, he thinks, bitterly.

Pushing the dark thoughts away, he lifts the bottle out of his pouch and unscrews it.

“Here, this should…”

He stops short as the fairy darts forward. The lighting in the room is decidedly dim, which he supposes is why he hadn’t seen it before. But now in the pinkish glow of the fairy’s magic it’s painfully obvious.

The word “murderer” is carved in jagged, blood-red lines into Warriors’ left arm.

Time’s vision goes crimson.

“Captain…” It’s everything he can do to keep his voice level. Suddenly, he’s a child once more, kneeling on the battlefield, begging his brother to stay alive, to stay with him. He’s a child being hurtled back through time without truly understanding what that even means. He’s a child being laughed at and thrown aside by the man he has been tasked with defeating.

He’s a child helpless and weak.

Late. Much too late.

“...did they do this to you?”

For a long moment, Warriors doesn’t reply. He merely watches the fairy do her work, gaze dull and almost detached. There are tear-streaks on his cheeks, Time realizes now, curving through the patches of blood and dirt.

“Their fa-families died in…in the war,” he murmurs at last, voice hollow and defeated. “They…they blame me.”

Time forces himself to take a breath.

Of course, they do. That is always the reason the traitors give, as though placing the blame on the hero can assuage them of their own guilt, justify their horrific deeds.

“Well, they’re wrong,” he says, firmly. “And believe me, anyone who does a thing like this was never in their right mind in the first place. You do not carry the blame of a war you didn’t even begin, but fought bravely to end. You are a hero, captain, not a murderer.”

Warriors drags his gaze up to him, something terribly vulnerable within it.

“Y-you’re really somethin else, Sprite,” he whispers, breath hitching. A small smile tugs at his lips and somehow it makes him look even more young and broken than before. “How c-come you say everything like…like you mean it?”

Time places a gentle hand on his good shoulder and he seems to melt beneath his touch.

“Because I do. I meant every word. Why hide from someone who can always tell when I’m lying?”

Warriors chuckles, slightly. It almost sounds like a sob.

The fairy finishes her dance and zips back to Time.

“I’ve done all that I can,” she whispers. “The word that they hurt him with…I lightened it as much as I could.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, inclining his head. And with a soft jingle, she disappears. He turns his attention back to Warriors. “We’ll see if there are any spells or potions capable of stopping that from scarring. There is no reason for you to carry the false burden they have placed on you.”

The captain merely gives a small nod, eye downcast once more. His shoulders are uncharacteristically slumped and he hugs his arm to his body, as though eager to hide it. At the sight, the anger abates somewhat, replaced by the ache of his heart.

How dare they do this.

Time reaches out and draws him into his arms. Warriors slumps, bonelessly into his embrace, trembling slightly with pain and exhaustion and emotion.

“It’s alright. It’s over,” he says, softly, echoing the words Warriors had soothed him with so many times during the war. “I’ve got you.”

Carefully he rises, lifting the captain up as gently as he can. He wants nothing more than to tear this place apart, to find those who did this terrible deed and make them wish they had never been born. But his priority right now is Warriors. He needs rest and healing and for that cursed word to be wiped off of his skin. He needs safety and reassurance.

Vengeance will have to wait.

Though if he has his way it will not wait very long. The perpetrators were gone when he got here, likely cowering from the punishment even they knew they deserve. But once he finds them – and he will – he won’t hesitate to do what must be done.

No one touches his big brother without coming to regret it.

#whumptober 2023 #no.20 #‘you will regret touching them’ #implied/referenced torture tw #blood tw #injury tw #captivity tw #nonconsensual body modification tw #mention of vomit #trin writes #lu warriors #lu time #angst #hurt/comfort #whump