#Prompt: made a lab rat

[veryrealimagination]

Whumpay Attempt, Prompts 1-4

This is me attempting some Whumpay prompts. I took the first four days and mashed them.

If you're reading the Murdoch Mysteries Portia AU, spoilers for what I have planned for last act of the first story

Watts groaned as his consciousness came back. The last thing he remembered was a meal from the Round Table. It had been almost empty, sad really as he enjoyed talking to several Portians. The waiter he didn’t recognize gave him his meal along with the tea. It had tasted wrong, but he didn’t like criticizing Fei’s things. Sometimes, people just have off days. It was making him a little sick, though, and just outside the Round Table, he had almost crashed into the ground if someone hadn’t helped him get back to his feet.

Expecting to be in the Clinic, or his room at the Workshop, he instead woke up in a cell. The walls were straight stone with no cracks or breaks to allow someone to work on destroying them. The door was metal, with a small window that was currently closed with a small door for slipping small things through.

He was viscerally reminded of his time with Duvos.

The only difference currently was that he hadn’t been left on the floor. They hadn’t given him anything to sleep on while he was captured. He supposed, that if he had given them the weapons they wanted, they would have given him things in return. More food, a blanket or a pillow. Whoever kidnapped him had set up a metal bedframe and a thin mattress. That told him it wasn’t Duvos. It was a sad fact.

Sitting up was a struggle, with his body uncooperative and unable to move decently. Once he did manage to get himself up, he had to use the wall behind him to keep up.

Nothing really changed with the move, until he saw that there was a strange red light in one of the corners. It was positioned over a small set up of a toilet and sink. Even that was more than what Duvos gave him. Now he was worried, and curious, as to who had set this up.

His stomach wasn’t happy. Whatever he had been drugged with was still in his system, which was making him a bit nauseous. A part of him was also hungry. The meal had only been half-eaten, and it felt as if he had gone beyond his normal wake up and starting time for the Workshop and the chores needed. His body wanted food, but it wanted something made by someone he knew. The chicken soup that Aunt Margy made or the pancakes on the winter’s morning before the hotpot.

Hearing sounds coming from the other side of the door, he sat up as straight as he could handle to face whomever was on the other side. The movement of metal on the other side alerted him to the locks that must have been in place. He wondered why it wasn’t a single one, as he heard multiple pops and clanks. *The place where a doorknob should be is already missing, as the person put a slab of metal that makes it almost impossible to open. That means the holes for locks is also gone. The window and the small delivery box is also unlikely near the locks. They don’t need that many.* He counted to three possible locks and hinges before the door opened.

James had dug up a photo of James Gillies, a week after they suspected. Watts had never seen him during his walks around the town. Not even anyone covered up unnaturally or in disguise. He had gotten good at that in Ethea with the other Builders and their help over there. The photo had not captured the intensity of his stare, or the hidden emotions that must have lurked when he had been in Portia the first couple of times.

Like the obsession he currently saw in the man right now.

He had a tray holding a bowl and a tea cup. Walking in, he sat it down on the far end. Right now, he knew that Watts wouldn’t be able to do anything to him. He was weak and it showed. “Llewellyn Watts,” he said, “I finally got you.”

It was hard to not plead to be let go. He didn’t know what the man wanted, but some of the horror stories were enough to give him bad dreams. The woman working with Duvos laughed at him when he started pleading from pain, after being whipped for the fourth or fifth time. James would have been of the same vein. “I don’t know if having me is such a great thing,” he pointed out, trying to keep a neutral and disinterested face up. It was challenging. “I was a nuisance to Duvos and have become a bit of a trouble magnet.”

He fake pondered that for a few seconds. “I don’t think it qualifies if I was behind chunks of your trouble,” he said. “Besides, it’s going to take them some time to figure out where I’ve set up this time. I would have to go out into Portia and manage to get one of the Corps members, or William and Pennie’s attention and they would have to follow me closely. And I right now have enough smuggled away to not need to go out for a season.”

That shook Llewellyn. He knew William and James would be smart enough to figure it out, especially once they find out he was missing again. There was likely clues left behind. But Gillies felt he had a good enough cover for his operations that they wouldn’t be able to find him until he went back out. His uncle would be tearing Portia apart trying to find him and he likely wouldn’t be able until Gillies popped his head up again.

The sickness in his stomach got worse the longer he thought about it.

“So, you and I are going to become much more acquainted,” he said, “And this is a peace offering. It’s your aunt Margaret’s soup.” Well, his wish of having food from someone around him came true. He didn’t like that fact that the man must have gone to his aunt to request and pick it up from her. They never told him what he tried to target his Aunt with. “Along with a lavender and chamomile tea. Something I dare say you picked up from William. Neither have been drugged, like what I did to your meal two nights ago.”

Two nights? How did the man manage to keep him sedated for two nights with a mere half a meal that had been drugged?! Either the man was lying about the time he had already been there, tearing into his slightly fragile mind, or what he had was severely dangerous. Quite possibly, not meant for human consumption and was meant for animals. Jack told him about medicines that were for horses and cows, that were stronger than the human counterparts.

Oh, it wasn’t Fei behind his meal, but somehow Gillies made it? Well, now he knew why the food wasn’t on par with the other man’s. Dare he think it, it sucked. The waiter that served it was too tall, so it wasn’t him that also served. *He has help? Oh, he might have help.* That could mean there was another person in the place where he was being held. If he managed, by a miracle, to get away while the man was incapacitated, then another person would be able to stop him.

He would only be able to get out with outside help. By Light, he wanted everyone bursting in to save him right now. He would feel embarrassed later on back home with a mug of cocoa while bundled up in a blanket leaning on either his Uncle or James.

Instead, he picked up the tea cup, noted that it was made of a light wood. That and the spoon and the bowl and the tray, were made from the same wood. Since it was light, he wouldn’t do much damage to Gillies if he tried to use it and bash it all on his skull. Planned most likely, along with something he couldn’t stab with. He slowly sipped the liquid. It was a bit more powerful than William’s, but it didn’t hurt his stomach.

“Excellent. I’ll be back in an hour to pick up the tray,” he said. “I don’t think you need any sort of warning about what could happen from keeping anything. Duvos likely did something to ensure you never tried anything.”

With a reminder of his last imprisonment, the man left through the door and locked it behind him. His next breath was a long and harsh one, trying not to cry and still letting out wetness. Watts would not let James Gillies break him. Duvos barely got there, and it took several weeks before he broke down crying from one of his torture sessions. His aunt’s soup tasted a little off, but he hoped that it hadn’t been drugged, instead just something being wrong with it.

Of course, he could have been lying about it being his Aunt’s soup. Watts wouldn’t be surprised if the man had all the ingredients and tried to make it himself. The tea would suggest that. It being stronger had him believing it wasn’t William’s specific blend.

When he was done with both, he stood up to carry the stuff over. Wobbling, it took him almost four minutes, having to stop before he collapsed before he got to the door. Once he placed the tray and everything in there, he was forced to close it before he could see who would be taking it. It would be interesting to see if it was Gillies or his current partner.

Then, there was shuffling back over to collapse on the bed. Not even much movement and he was already drained. *Likely done on purpose. He said he didn’t drug it, but I wouldn’t trust that man.* he laid down, unable to keep himself up even with the wall’s help. His sleep was troubled.

-

There had at least been one day. Not two, he hoped, before Gillies came back. “Come along, Watts, today, we start testing,” he announced. The man was entirely too cheerful. Llewellyn really hoped that the small amount of energy he had in him would be enough to get away.

When he got close to the man, he attempted to punch him. It was something he had watched Jackson do and he thought that there was enough force behind it. Which there was. Gillies had the foresight to move to the side when he attempted. Thrown off balance, he felt a hand wrap around his arm. Another worked through his hair and before he understood, his head was bashed into the wall. “Fighting me will not work in your favor,” he warned.

He got that now, as his head radiated pain and he had to hold back tears. The hand on his head disappeared and helped in capturing his arms. Being forced forward, his sight was a bit wonky, but he still managed to see some possible areas to ever explore if he got free.

The room he pushed him into was a quasi mash of medical and scientific. He recognized the setup for chemical mixings. Several areas of almost Builder related benches and tables. A sterilization area similar to the one that the Flying Pigs had in Orzu. Just off the center was a table, cleaned and polished metal, with restraints attached to it.

It was there that he was led. Gillies got his left arm down and bound. He couldn’t even try to undo it, the grips switched over to his right arm. Dragged onto it, he was tied down by his right as well. He sighed, “I should have made you take off your clothing in the cell.” That drew a terrified look out of him. There may have been some threats, but Duvos soldiers never touched him. “Oh, not for that. I need access to your leg.”

That didn’t help his terror. The man thought about his options for a minute before grabbing something off of a far away table. He pointed the gun on Watts’s head before undoing his left arm. “Take off your pants,” he directed, “I need to get to the location of the wound on your leg that my Jump Dancers attacked.”

Having it explained wasn’t quite as nice as it should have been. Reluctantly, he shuffled his pants down until they were over his knees and to the feet. The man ever so helpfully took off his shoes and pants before setting them aside. Then redid his arm to the table before strapping his legs down. The right one had an additional strap to make sure it didn’t move.

Gillies rolled over a table. From the small glints, he saw multiple types of medical equipment. The worse were scalpels, from the size of a nail to half a pointer finger. Two of the larger syringes weren’t the greatest either. “Let’s start with getting a good look at the area,” he muttered. A clipboard with a pen and paper were grabbed, as he inspected what was left of the wound. Prodding, measurements, pulling, he wrote all of his thoughts down on the paper. “I forget how good Julia is at dealing with wounds that should be fatal. She said it was something about Portia. I call that ridiculous. A simple place does not have abilities like this.”

After several minutes of simply recording observations with his eyes and fingers, he moved on. Bringing over a machine, he threw something over him except the wound area. It was quite heavy. He clicked it a couple of times, similar to a camera. Then, he was done and the thing was lifted. Sad, the weight was nice.

Something beeped and buzzed across the room. Gillies walked over and picked up what appeared to be pictures. Although they were odd, only in black and white and he couldn’t make out what they were. “Oh, how interesting. The areas of bone that were broken and shattered are quite visible. You’re healed, yes, but there’s notable build around the damage. It’s in one of their bite shapes.”

“I want to see it.”

Watts felt terror as something was shoved into his mouth and a strap wrapped around to keep in place. Even with the leg strapped down, he was able to move it. This annoyed Gillies. “Well, you will be trying out some of my new procedures. I need to be able to operate on living beings without issue while keeping them alive.”

Going over to the medical area, he shuffled through his chemical creations until he lifted something of a pale yellow. “First test of the paralysis serum,” he listed, explaining to his captive audience about what he had. To be fair, he hadn’t had an audience in ages, guests even less, and William didn’t appreciate it. Something about dark, inhumane, hurting his family and friends. Blah, blah, blah. He walked back over while talking.

“There were animals before the Dark Ages that had the ability to paralyze their prey by bite, by sting, before devouring them. Some of the journals, the animal guides, the medical research, survived. Held by those that understood that the knowledge had to be discovered again if any of those animals also emerged as humanity did from the darkness. I had access to them in Vega Five. It was part of my studies. I had plans about going into medical prescription. My Mother had such a fascination about the interactions of chemicals on humans. She helped people, bless her Light. Made medications that balanced a person’s brain chemicals, their organs, their skin. That one was due to me as a teen. Horrible acne.”

He loaded up a syringe, one of the ones that he didn’t enjoy the sight. “I heard about venom, poison, being the basis for some of the most well used and useful chemicals for human consumption. A part of me was curious when I came to Portia the first time. Something has become different about humans since the Day of Calamity and the Age of Darkness. A great deal have higher tolerances to the poisons from snakes and Dancers.” Gillies mockingly looked down on his victim. “Well, most of us.” Choosing an area near where he wanted to cut, he grabbed another bottle, which held some brown substance on a cotton stick, and rubbed it all over. “Don’t want you getting infected.”

Injecting it, Watts groaned in pain. The syringe was not small, and the yellow serum burned where it went in. “Excellent,” he whispered, following the small amount of color through his skin as it seeped in. “I will have to watch you tonight. I don’t want to paralyze your lungs. Just your leg, I can’t have it moving when I’m playing with it.” Swabbing more of his leg, Watts realized that he was going to cut into the entire section where the Jump Dancer had bit.

“Quickest place,” he muttered, readjusting the straps. If the paralyzing serum didn’t completely work, he still needed the physical restraints. Sharp scalpel, steady hand covered with gloves, Gillies quickly cut into the skin. Watts screamed, trying to move away from the pain instinctively. His upper body, arms, and the left leg twitched. His right leg did not, a fact that pleased the man. Although the rest of the movement did hamper him a small bit as it still moved when the thigh moved. “Would you stop?”

He ignored struggling for a few more seconds. There was only a little bit of muscle and fat that he was carefully moving and tearing off before he got annoyed and used another strap. This time across the young man’s neck. When air started being cut off, he dropped back on the table with much whimpering. Gillies enjoyed that.

Once he got down to the bone, he finally managed to see the raised growth needed to cover the bite marks. “Incredible. Your body went over quite a bit to make sure that the breakage wouldn’t happen again. Read about it in a few books, but the people rarely donate their bodies for science anymore, and medical practitioners rarely look anymore. Much less record with photographs. I wish people would think about the science needs.” He ran his fingers over it. The feel was incredible. He did really wish that he could have seen these on people that had gone into the Light. Or the Dark, which ever way they lived their lives. He just wanted to see under their skins.

Finished with this curiosity over the leg, at least, he removed his fingers and quickly stitched up the wound. “I believe I’m going to have to think about how much blood comes out when doing this. Robert wasn’t a fan of this. He left me when I was expelled. I mean, he joined me for some of it. Then, got cold feet. He’s working for his Daddy’s company. What a loser. I can’t believe I liked him. But, I’m going to need someone to act as my nurse and help.”

Watts, who was incredibly tired from the amount of blood he lost, didn’t like the sound of that. Who in their right mind would help James Gillies torture him? *Someone from Duvos. Like the woman that whipped me.* The terror from that faded, adrenaline wearing off. There was more prodding of his leg, which he groaned and tried to move away from. There was a tiny bit. The paralyzing serum stopped him from moving, not feeling pain. “And the serum is already wearing off quickly,” he frowned. “You haven’t even been here a couple of years and you’re starting to acquire the Portian healing that I’ve heard about. It made my testing horrid when I dosed the citizens the first time I was here. You were much worse when my Dancers bit you. I thought I was going to kill you. The standard treatment just prolonged what should have happened before Julia figured out the filter.”

Cleaning up, he wet a few gauze pads before cleaning up blood on his skin before covering the wounds. “I’m going to have to use you to strengthen my work. And find some way of working on your arm next. Either I train Li-Pon or I’m going to need a robot.” Looking down at him, there was an internal debate over whether or not he should leave his victim on the table. Cleaning blood off was easier when it was wet. “The serum isn’t going to your chest. Li-Pon can carry you to the cell and let you rest.”

Watts was shifting in and out of consciousness. He didn’t even attempt to fight when the straps were removed and the gag was taken out. Something strange showed up when Gillies tapped a button and a bell rang out. A human with a mask covering half their face. The clothes were odd. “If you wouldn’t mind, please take him back to the cell. I need to clean up.” He flinched, but that didn’t stop Li-Pon from picking him up and carrying him back through the hallways.

-

James Gillies had a few shortcuts in getting Llewellyn healthier faster. Nothing he experienced with Doctor Ogden. Part of the trials he had planned were health tonics and serums. Things he designed to replenish blood faster, heal the skin quicker. They were nasty, leaving aftertastes for hours. He had to resist urges to puke over some of them. He did once and was hit for it. Wasn’t his fault, his body was rejecting it as soon as he drank it. The man had to give him a needle in his thigh when he couldn’t breathe. At least he didn’t get that one again. Something about an allergic reaction?

Four days after, he came back into his cell with a gun. “We’re going to do this again,” he said, “It’s going to be your arm this time. Shirt off, otherwise I will have to cut it.” He motioned with his gun with the afterthought. “And blood. It’ll be disgusting with what I plan on doing.”

After a minute of mental steadying, he pulled his shirt off and walked over to the door. The hand on his shoulder led to an instinctive jump, but it must not have been noted as he was pushed back down to the room again. The person Watts figured was Li-Pon was standing beside the table. He wasn’t dragged on this time, instead pushed with the gun and motioned. Strapped down, the one around his throat was tighter than last time to even stop the idea of struggling. His right arm was pulled out and bound to a board strutting out from the side.

The clipboard was up and notes were taken immediately. It went quicker than last time. “Let’s photograph the area and get some lovely pictures of what my Dancers did.” The heavy blanket was thrown over him again, now with it not covering his arm, and the strange contraption was brought out. This time, he heard electrical whirling from the device, and something else after the shutter clicked.

Again, he saw the strange pictures that came from it. This time, he could see more. *Is that my arm?* Watts thought that the picture was of his arm bone, which he didn’t believe possible. Although, there were medical instruments that they hadn’t been able to get information on from the Corrupt Ages. One was something that supposedly saw through skin and muscle.

If Gillies could do that, why did he cut him open?

“I think your arm healed smoother than your leg,” he commented, “I don’t see as much bone build. How peculiar.” Placing the clipboard off to the side, he wiped down an area of his arm before injecting the same yellow serum that he did previously. While that was taking effect, Watts was gagged again during a whine from the increased burning sensation. Once he tried to move his fingers and saw that they barely twitched, Gillies picked up a scalpel while he whimpered and turned away.

He didn’t know it if was because it was his arm, or the face it was closer to his mind, but the young man felt the cuts more as the man made into him. He wanted to clench his hand into a fist, but his fingers didn’t even twitch. Watts was terrified that one single wrong move would damage his ability to build when he finally escaped.

Li-Pon must have been taught how to play nurse, as the being patted sponges and used a small tube to vacuum his blood when it dripped too much. Eventually, he got down to the bone. “Much, much cleaner healing than your leg,” he cooed, “Oh, how fascinating. What caused the difference in such healing?”

He eyed Watts’s chest with such an intensity that the young man was worried he would be getting autopsied at that moment. Instead, with his physical examination done, he sewed up the arm and made sure everything was clean again. “And since it was only your arm, you can walk back to your room.”

Blood lost not withstanding, he wobbled his way back to the room with Li-Pon following. Once inside, the door was locked and he crashed on the floor before getting to the bed. “It’s only my arm, he said.” Wincing, he crawled the last bit of space before hoisting himself up. That wore him out quickly. “Could really use a pissed off Uncle coming through right now.”

-

James Gillies visited.

Most of the time, he was analyzing what he got from Llewellyn. Blood samples, those strange pictures, his medical chart that he copied a few times. The food was delivered and set with the gun pointing at him as a warning. When he didn’t take him, it was to talk. Or well, drawn out interrogations about what symptoms he experienced, the aftereffects, how William was doing, if there was talks of a wedding between him and Julia yet, if Pendrick figured out his subconscious wants and desires.

He wasn’t sure about answering the stuff about William and James. It was creepy.

When his arm completely healed, the fear in him grew. First was his leg. Then, it was his arm. The last thing for Gillies to cut and examine was his chest. He didn’t see a way for the man to cut him open and explore his ribcage and keep him alive.

Hearing the door opened, he wondered if today would be that day. Looking over, Li-Pon was standing there before laying something down and closing the door again. It was not food. Whatever it was was staring at him, curled up on the floor. “D-desert hopper,” he muttered. That was one of the animals that had been modified for heavier venom. It was over there and he was on the bed, so that shouldn’t be an issue at the moment.

Then, the thing started bouncing over to him. He didn’t move, figured that it wouldn’t make that much of a difference on where he would go. The creature was likely going to chase after him. Not moving would make it less likely it might ignore him, hopefully. Nope, it hopped onto the bed. He had to cut off a whimper and his flinching when it landed by his left side. His expectation of bites until losing consciousness did not match up to what the hopper actually did. Llewellyn watched as it slithered over his chest and legs to curl up on him.

No attacking. Which was a surprise.

*“Desert hoppers are the descendants of an animal known as a snake,”* a disembodied voiced lectured. Gillies had a speaker in his room as well. He hated that. *“They’re cold blooded, which is why you won’t find the outside of the desert without some sort of containment and a heating lamp. Likely the reason why that one didn’t bite you the way I wanted it to. You’re warm.”* There was a hard sigh. *“I wanted him to bite you.”*

*I figured that.* He was trying not to react to the information. The hopper was settling down. He made the mistake of looking down to see what it was not asleep. Yellow eyes started directly back at him. “That was a mistake,” he muttered. Now he couldn’t stop looking.

The door opened again and Li-Pon came through. Without worry, the person picked up the desert hopper. The creature turned and hissed at being separated from its heating source. They merely walked out while letting something else in.

Brighter than its outdoor cousins, the flurpee immediately sought its target. Ice pelted Watts before he could even move. Wincing in pain, he made the decision to flip his bed to the side. The frame and mattress were poor shields. The force of the breath coming out was much harder than he thought was possible. The air was getting chilled fast.

*“Excellent.”*

He heard the patter of its footsteps trying to get closer. He saw the thing jumping to try and get at him. Sometimes, he felt ice pelt him a small bit. There wasn’t anything to use as a weapon. The bed wasn’t breakable. He tried.

His shield was yanked out of his hand, and the flurpee blasted him full on. Gasping for breath, the only thing he thought of was to kick. The creature squeaked when it bounced back. Shaking its head, it came back at him. Forcing himself up, he backed away and tried to stay out of range of its attack. With pain from the cold, Watts was slow moving. Rolling away from the blast of the ice breath made things worse.

The next time the creature got close enough, he took a chance and punched it along the side. It whined in pain and backed up, but came back over and slapped him a few times. It wouldn’t have hurt as much if he wasn’t suffering from freezer burn.

He barely noticed Li-Pon picking up the creature and carrying it out. The hands that started poking and prodding him after that he did. Gillies’s curiosity showed all over his face as he turned the new wounds around to see how much damage was actually done. “A good amount of burn,” he muttered, pushing in on one of the areas and earning a groan. Not to mention struggling from Watts to remove his limbs and curl in on himself. A squeeze on a painful area stopped it, temporarily. “Not as much as I was assuming, but clothing and the fact you defended yourself instead of taking the full onslaught shouldn’t be surprising. Strapping you to a wooden stand and unable to cover yourself would give me more information over the power of their breath.” Watts had a disturbing flash over how he was planning on his next experiment. When there wasn’t resistance, he pulled himself away and curled up against the wall.

Gillies merely walked out the door and locked it, muttering about what he could do later. Llewellyn gripped his legs tighter to stop his shaking.

-

When he was led out of the room again, Watts realized it was going to be for the last time. There was nothing he could try to stop it. Both Gillies and Li-Pon held weapons to make him walk ahead. The table was ready, and he had to be pushed to get on it. Strapped again, with his chest the main feature, something was placed over his mouth and nose. That was new.

“Once Pennie wakes up, the operation will begin,” he said, checking his tools.

Pennie? *They brought James here?* Shocked and terrified, he twisted around and found a chair occupied by one unconscious James Pendrick. “No,” he cried, fighting against the restraints. “No, no, don’t.”

“Quiet.”

“Don’t make him watch,” Llewellyn pleaded.

Gillies looked down at him with a cursed smile on his lips. “Aww, how quaint.” He patted his head before gripping some of the hair and pulling on it. “Pennie and William have been too happy lately. It’s time to install some fear and hopelessness back into them. Not everything has a good ending.” Walking over, he realized the older man was still unconscious.

He didn’t want to wait.

Smacking him, he smirked when Pendrick started groaning. “Wakey-wakey, Pennie,” he mocked.

“Fuck off, Gillies. Your manners haven’t gotten any better,” the man grumbled, immediately struggling with the restraints keeping him to the chair. During his movement, he managed to catch a glimpse of what he wanted to see. “Llewellyn!”

“James!”

The man tried to shout again before Gillies gagged him. “Now that the heartwarming moment is over, I want to start on what will be the crème of what I’ve been wanted to see.” Li-Pon turned the knob of some sort of tank filled with gas. Llewellyn didn’t know what was happening when he started breathing in whatever was coming in from the thing on his face. After a minute, his panic didn’t matter much as he slipped into unconsciousness.

“What my Dancers did to his chest.” He patted on Pendrick’s shoulder in mockery. “Too much interference, and I will kill him. Accidently or not, it will be unclear.” He glared at the villain, but realized getting the two of them out would be impossible if Gillies was planning on operating on Llewellyn.

Li-Pon was there with the new blood suction machine when he started his cutting. Instead of a nice single line that would have just gotten him in the area he needed, he decided on a y incision. It was something that he found out about from medical autopsy books. It would be a signal if Julia had to work on him on her tables.

Peeling back skin and muscle was much harder than it had been in the leg and arm. He was remembering the books that he read on the procedures to get to organs that needed operations. They understated what he would need to do. Gillies had to be careful about it. He was still thinking about using the boy much later. Not to the point of stopping himself in this experiment, but not carelessly enough to kill him out of spite.

When he finally removed enough to see the teeth marks on the ribs, he gasped. “Oh, this is even better than the ones on the leg.” He felt the edges made under his fingertips. “Still healing, and there’s a good amount of jagged edge.” It had been months since he had been attacked. He should have been healed by now. Unless the attack to his ribs had been worse. Or something else had happened in combination with the enhanced venom that hadn’t with the arm and leg. Perhaps since one couldn’t immobilize ribs as they could with the appendages and the consistant movement with the diaphram and his lungs have caused healing to be slower. “Oh, how interesting it would be to make it permanent. A testament to their abilities.” A low growling was heard from the chair. “Quiet, Pendrick.”

“You take that bloody scalpel and step away from my nephew, Gillies,” a voice commanded. Captain Brackenreid stepped out from the entryway of the room, with two of his team standing behind him. All three had weapons raised, but only Brackenreid was carrying a gun. “Or I’m gonna make sure you disappear on the way to the Knight’s Prison.”

He chuckled, looking at his intruders. “What are you going to do about that, Captain? I could always slice through one of his artieries now and leave him to die.”

While he was turned toward the Corps members, one of his tools embedded into his arm. The scalpel dropped, but not before being caught by Li-Pon. Staring in confusion, as they were the only one close enough, the variant took off their mask and showed an angry William Murdoch had actually been under there. “Oh, how did I miss that?”

George and Torva took the man and dragged him away, cuffing him. Murdoch ignored him while quickly slicing through the bonds holding James down. “Hart was one of the ones you brought, correct?”

The woman herself answered, striding in, “Made sure of it.” She quickly looked over Watts. The chest being open, the skin and muscles pulled back and still exposing the ribs, made her sick. “The best I can do is sew him up and stop the bleeding to get him back to the Clinic. I was trained for smaller injuries.”

James came over and looked at the machine that was being used to suck up the blood. “William, is this thing clean enough?” he demanded.

“I cleaned it before suiting up to replace whomever Gillies had for help.”

He nodded. “If there’s a way to manually warm up the blood, we can put it back into Llewellyn to help stabilze him for transport.” The man looked to the medic. “What else do we need to do?”

#murdoch mysteries #whumpay 2024 #Prompt: strapped to an operating table #Prompt: paralytic drug #Prompt: made a lab rat #Prompt: vivisection #i probably didn't do this right #but i still wrote #and i have another au going on with the next two prompts

[inkwell-and-dagger]

Ruaridh couldn't ignore it, even if they tried.

An incessant thumping lulled them out from slumber, a repetitive, painful hang against their head like a hammer. The source came from right above them, as usual. Having two heartbeats around them got annoying with time, but they were able to repress their instincts, and from then they had thought that it wouldn't bother them anymore. But, alas, they were wrong.

Being in the dark made it all the more worse. Able to focus on nothing but the heartbeat of their new friend — or, at least, that's what Ruaridh assumed; they couldn't be certain whether he or their saviour were friends or foes just yet — made it all the more difficult to repress the thought of shutting it up themself. And they couldn't hold it back for long.

On one hand, they knew it'd be a bad decision to even move a muscle; they begged their body to remain still, pressing their pillow firmly against their ear in the hopes the noise will subdue. But on the other, Derwyn's words echoed in their mind: "If you hear something you don't like, you get rid of it. Understood?"

And Ruaridh did understand, they really did. They knew for a fact that this noise irritated them, and they didn't like it — fuck, they hated it. It was like a constant headache, and Ruaridh would do anything to relieve the pain.

So they made up their mind. Their body felt like it was on autopilot; they couldn't exactly control their movements, only able to observe what little they could see in the dark. Snaking out of bed, perching up on the railing of the top bunk and lowering their head so their horns don't bang into the ceiling.

There he was; they didn't remember his name, but from what little conversation they could recall their saviour introducing them to him, his name began with a "D". He looked so oblivious peaceful, pristine wings sprawled out over the railing of the bed, hanging down the ladder as he slept. Tired eyes closed and relaxed, loosely clutching some sort of creature in his arms. It looked to be some sort of duck? It was unnaturally big, and fluffy, and it wasn't moving or breathing, and had no heartbeat. Why would he sleep with a big, dead duck in his arms?

They cleared the thought from their mind, a clawed hand reaching out to turn him over onto his back as carefully as possible. There were no signs of him waking up, so Ruaridh proceeded.

They couldn't help but feel bad at the prospect of ruining the lovely jumper he wore; it looked extremely comfortable. But they couldn't stop themself from snaking one hand around his neck to hold him down, the other pressing right over his heart and digging and digging and sinking their claws into—

A scream knocked them out of whatever state they were in, and they drew back and slipped from the railing, landing on their back with a loud thump. Beads of blood coated their claws, and his new friend — and what would've been their meal if he were to stay asleep, no doubt — shot up in bed.

"What the fuck?!"

Ruaridh stammered for words, but none would come out; they wanted to apologize, to plead that they didn't mean to, that they couldn't control themself and that they were so, so fucking sorry. But it seemed as though he wasn't keen on listening, as when they tried to come closer, he shielded his wounded body with his wings, a frightened yelp sounding in the darkness.

"Don't— Don't fucking touch me—"

And sure, this was probably said in the heat of the moment — their friend was, most likely, distressed and in pain, and he had every right to not want them close to him — but Ruaridh suppressed a flinch, lowering themself from the ladder again.

They tried to explain themself. "I'm sorry, I really am, I just didn't— I forgot that you weren't—"

But Ruaridh paused, hearing the faint sound of footsteps thumping down the winding staircase they'd been led down with the promise of a warm meal and a bath not even a day ago.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Ruaridh knew hiding in the bathroom would just be stalling the inevitable, but they couldn't stop themself from dashing into that small, sterile room.

(TLLR and any other character mentioned belongs to @whumpy-wyrms!! only Ruaridh is mine ;3)

#tllr x uarad crossover #(RAAAAHHH this is my own eensy interpretation of the prompt i made last night) #(jay feel free to write your own thing on that prompt as well if you still want to!!!!) #(really hope i did dew justice im not sure if i portrayed him correctly but!!! yay!!!! #whump writing #dew oc #anton oc #ruaridh mullen #The Last Lab Rat #Uilebheist A Rinn An Duine #whump oc #oc whump #writing #oc writing #multiple whumpees #lab whump #experiment whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #scientist whumper #whump #also this hasn't been proofread lmao

[thecrowslullaby]

Here is your card for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Happy writing!

#this is the official one #yes i will get to the asks in my inbox #killing in self defense and gilded cage are technically done #on a leash;grabbed by the chin;locked in a cage;not used to freedom and made a lab rat are also in my inbox #so if you sent any of these i might not get around to your prompt

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

Perhaps Fentons are not able to recognize their child, despite the fact that they hunt him day after day. But for childhood friends, who saw each other in absolutely ridiculous situations that parents are never allowed to know about, just one sneeze and a bored sigh is enough to realize that this weirdo fighting next to him is the same guy with whom you tasted soap and then stood looking at each other from different corners and giggling.

And so, the dialogue after the battle with the creatures of Infinite Realms, to which Constantine had to invite a potential ally not yet approved by the League:

Phantom: Well, mom always said you were bad news...But a crime lord, seriously? What happened to your plans to become a literature teacher? Red Hood: Hey! For Gotham, this is a very high-paying in-demand job. And I don't want to hear anything from Casper. At least I have my own business. What kind of part-time job do you have? Are you selling sheets to your buddies from this green goo? Phantom: This is ectoplasm. And they're not my friends, and anyway… Constantine: King Phantom, do you know Red Hood? Phantom: Do I know him? Ha! This street rat was Splinter of my beginnings until my family moved out of Gotham.

Red Hood: Wait, wait a minute. Phah...Holy shit. I thought I was the best example of what it means to be a disappointment to a family, but you beat me here. Oh, man, only you...The ghost king who is the son of the ghost hunters? Seriously? Hahah! I thought your rebellious phase ended the moment you told your father that you wanted to be an astronaut and not inherit the family business.

Danny*groans and covers his face with his hands*: My life is over.

Red Hood: Literally~ No, of course I always knew that your parents' disregard for safety in the laboratory would someday kill someone, but I didn't really expect this? Like, wow… Phantom: What makes you think it was an incident in the lab? I mean, there are so many possibilities around. It's ridiculous and…hah Red Hood: Dude, look me straight in the face and tell me I'm wrong if you dare. Phantom:…Fuck you, stupid bookworm. Red Hood: Stubborn nerd. Phantom: Red bucket! Red Hood: Pale toadstool! Nightwing: Um, can you guys please stop fighting? Red Hood: What are you talking about? This is how we always communicate. Phantom: Yeah! Well, in our defense, my sister always thought we both could use a therapist. Oh, man, he made me lose my train of thought. Where were we, J? Red Hood: Since when are you able to think? And I complimented your new hair and skin color. Phantom: Right, right… But, hey, not all of my parents' hypotheses really have a right to exist, and you know it! Hm, did I mention that you're built like a fridge and how does this leather jacket suit you? Red Hood: I believe not. And who's talking about your parents' work? You were an airhead when you were alive too to be honest. And as I see it, not much has changed. Why the hell are you still starting a fight with puns? Stop telling your opponent your position. This is terribly stupid! Phantom: Oh, please, these ghosts are definitely not a threat to me. What's wrong with having a little fun? The fact that you don't have weapons to handle something stronger than a blob ghost is your problem not mine, loser. But let's get back to our greetings. Red Hood: Sure. Then listen here…

~~~~~

Nightwing: Jay, why didn't you say right away that you knew Phantom? We've wasted so much time wondering if it's worth summoning him, and you just stood there and said nothing. Red Hood: Pfff…Because I didn't know that until today. He used to be human. And we haven't seen each other for a long time. So how was I to know that he would take such a ridiculous pseudonym? Nightwing: Then why the hell didn't you feel worried about teasing this creature? Red Hood: Why should I? It's just Danny.

~~~~

Tucker: Oh man, 84 murders, attempts to kill Joker and to much fights with Batman and Black Mask and… Danny: Yeah, yeah. It's all very interesting, but it's not what I asked you to find. Get to the point, Tucker. What I will wear to our dinner tonight depends on this. Tucker: Seriously? As far as I'm concerned, whether he's single or not is less important than all this shit. Aren't you afraid to show up at his house? Danny: I'm invited. And for that matter, I'm Amity Park's former public enemy number one. Which one of us should be worried, hah? So he's not dating anyone, right? Don't try to distract me. Tucker: Dude! Danny: Ugh, in my experience, when he acts like he's lost his mind, he usually has good reasons for it. And if not, given some of the events of my alternative future, I have no right to judge him, so…

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc prompt #dcxdp #dead on main #dead on main ship #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt

[lis-likes-fics]

Lab Rats

Pairings: professor!Jonathan Crane x student!Reader Word Count: 8.2k words Prompt: Sex Pollen Warnings: NSFW, smut, dubcon, professor/student relationship, sex pollen, oral (m!receving), fingering, edging, multiple orgasms, dumbification, name calling, degradation, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie... A/N: This is a day late, but I got it done! I hope you enjoy this filthy piece. Dr. Crane is so much fun to write for!

The call of your name stalled you from packing the rest of your items, your fingers tingling and your ears burning at the sound of your name breaching his lips.

“Could you stay after class, please?” Professor Crane asked, looking upon you with a set smile.

You remained calm. He would read any unnecessary excitement in the way you breathed.

You nodded, trying to sink back into the rest of the class, packing their bags to leave. You pulled the zipper of your bag closed. When enough people left the room, you made your way to the front with your bag on your person.

You had taken a certain fascination with Dr. Jonathan Crane the first moment you stepped into his class. He was handsome and charming, he knew how to teach and he always managed to pull you in.

He wasn't soft on anyone, even his favorite student usually didn't receive much special treatment. On the first day of classes, he told everyone that 50% of the class would be walking out of the door by the end of the week, and he was right. Better for you, that just meant less people to steal his attention away, less competition when it came to acing his tests and projects.

You loved his class, not just for the topic—obviously. Over the past couple of weeks, you felt his shift. His usual objectivity had switched and he seemed to point you out a little more. He praised your work, he accepted all of your input in class, he would even email you personally (sometimes talk to you after class) on your work to tell you how well you were doing.

You knew your attraction toward him would never amount to anything, it would never work out. But your fantasy was enough to quench your hunger for his attention and affection.

“Yes, sir?” you asked as you walked up to him.

Crane smiled at you. “I have a few matters I would like to speak with you privately… Could you spare the time?”

The strength of your heartbeat was extra hard for a few moments as you took in his words. You nod, “Of course, professor.”

“Step into my office?” he asked, gesturing toward the door with his name on it.

You took the first step, walking toward the door as he followed behind. You were suddenly very self-conscious of the way that you walked as you opened the door.

He moved around you when you were both inside, allowing you to shut the door as he took his spot in front of his desk. He leaned back on it, crossing his legs at the ankles and putting his hands in his pockets.

You knew this one. He was presenting his body language to seem more relaxed in order to ease you from your guard so he could properly manipulate you into agreeing with whatever he said.

He sighed, taking a moment to look upon you. “I would like you to know that I admire you and your work greatly,” he began, “and this is what allows me to ask this of you so freely.”

You blinked, anticipating his offer. “Yes, professor?”

He smiled, almost slyly. “I am conducting an experiment of sorts, a scientific breakthrough that I would like you to be the face of.”

You stared at him, your eyes wider than you meant for them to be as you slowly recovered. “I… Me?”

He nodded. “As part of a selection of students.”

Your heart sunk slightly at that. One of a group, but his first choice, at least…

“Oh,” you nodded. “Alright, uhm… Why—What, uh…” You reprimanded yourself for your lack of eloquence. “What is the experiment? What kind is it?”

“Unfortunately,” he breathed in deep, letting out a long sigh, “that must be kept a secret until I come to a close. It's not quite done—a few last minute tweaks need to be made…” He looked off slightly, thinking to himself for a split second. His attention turned back to you, looking at you a little closer, bringing you in.

He spoke slowly, leaning off the desk to stand. He moved a little closer, and you felt his hand brush your elbow. “But I would like to know that you would be willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice when I do contact you for it.”

He took another step forward, closer now to you. You knew this one, too. He was making it personal, making you compliant. You knew this trick, it was Psychology 101.

But it worked anyway.

“Oh,” you licked your bottom lip: your own trick. “Okay.”

He smiled, raising his brows, “Yes?” he nodded.

You returned the nod. “Yes, sir,” you smiled. “I…would be honored to.”

He held your eye contact, not letting go as he nodded. “Excellent!” he exclaimed gently. He leaned in a little, close to your face, too close for a professor talking to his student. “You really are my greatest student.”

You smiled, perhaps too much. You feel too giggly. “I'm…so glad.”

He moved his hand from your elbow to raise a finger, shaking it gently at you. “Remember,” he teased, “at a moment’s notice.”

You nodded definitely. “Of course.”

He offered you a charming smile before stepping out of your space, breaking the spell. He tilted his head toward you. “You may go.” Just as you were lifting your foot, he held out a hand toward you. “And thank you very much.”

With one last nod, you stepped back. “Not a problem, sir.”

You stepped out of his office, closing the door gently behind you. Gently biting your lip, you unsilenced your phone as you left his classroom.

~

The shrill ring of your phone cut through the late night and woke you brutally from your slumber. You gasped as you reluctantly blinked through the dark to direct your eyes to the abusive light emanating from the phone. The clock next to it on the nightstand read far past midnight. You moaned deeply, speaking but only forming actual words toward the middle of your complaint.

“...’f i’s ‘nother sp’m…” You wiped your face and covered your eyes as you answered the phone, not quite awake but too tired to deal with waking up.

“Hullo?”

The voice on the other end woke you up just a little more, not quite clearing the fog in your brain but allowing you to put more effort into sounding a little more awake.

“It's time.”

Time for wh—Oh.

You suddenly remembered Dr. Crane's experiment, the one he wanted to test with you. Your gut clenched and your heart picked up and startled you awake. It was time.

“Oh.”

~

You pressed your finger into the doorbell, checking the address of Dr. Crane's house out of nerves a fifth time and the time for the twentieth. You wrapped your coat tighter around you, the chilly breeze persuaded by the winter air of Gotham so close to Christmas time. They would be letting you out for the break soon…

The door opened, a little crack and a creak to allow you entry.

“Just go along with whatever happens.”

You thought back to his instructions on the phone, vague instructions you briefly considered not trusting. But he was your professor. He had your best interests at heart, surely.

You reached your hand toward the knob, timidly reaching. He wasn't at the door. Should you actually go in?

“Don't waste time asking questions. Everything will be explained when you get there.”

You pushed the door open and walked inside, shucking your coat off as you nervously looked around the house. You shut the door behind you, hanging your coat on the rack by the entrance and leaving your shoes next to the ones by the door.

You swallowed thickly as you looked around, stepping further inside. “Uhm…” you cleared your throat. “Dr. Crane? Are you still home?”

You were met with silence as you continued to quietly step through the living room, the air so still that you could feel your heart beating heavily in your chest. You were so nervous, your blood was pumping and you were bordering on scared as you tried to keep your breath level. Your flesh raised with goosebumps. It was too quiet.

You almost didn't want to speak again, afraid to break the silence and disturb something unknown lurking around the corner.

“Dr. Crane?” you called again, suddenly feeling very warm and very frightened. Where was he? “Professor?”

“In here.”

The voice was distant when he spoke, giving you some reprieve from the silence but feeding your anxiety, fueling your fight-or-flight.

“Where?” you wondered aloud, stepping past the archway that led into the hall.

“Just a few steps more…”

Could he see you? Was he taunting you on purpose? Perhaps part of the experiment?

The anxiety curled in your stomach, kept your footsteps slow and your breath shallow and a scream ready in your throat in case you needed it.

You were reluctant to speak. “Sir?” You pressed your palm along the wall of the hall and began to peer around the corner, into a room on the left. Maybe Dr. Crane was waiting there…

A strange, strong mist invaded your senses as you turned the corner. Raring up the scream, you gasped and your eyes stung, resulting in a heavy cough that took a moment to die down. You braced yourself on the wall, holding yourself up as you tried to clear your eyes, clouded by tears from both the coughing and the mist burning your eyes. You watched the mist clear, breathing in desperately for air.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Dr. Crane's voice came, then his hands on your shoulders as he pulled you in and guided you into the room. “That's good,” he bid.

He held you steady as you blinked rapidly and steadied your breath. “I took the liberty of testing my hypothesis that it would work faster if the patient is already running on adrenaline.”

You wiped the tears roughly from your eyes. “Professor, what–?”

“Hush,” he cut you off, bringing you to the bed. “Sit here,” he said, lowering you down.

He pulled up a chair, sitting across from you before handing you a handkerchief. You took it greedily and began wiping your face. You sighed deeply into the fabric, holding your head in your hands as you adjusted.

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “Now that's done…the substance you've just inhaled is an aphrodisiac of my own design.”

You stilled entirely, looking up at him tentatively as your eyes widened. You blinked, shaking your head as you tried to organize your thoughts. It was an… an—“Aphrodisiac…” you muttered.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Aphrodisiac.”

You were suddenly dizzy, processing his words too slowly as you put together what this meant. An experiment with an aphrodisiac… and you were the “face” of it all?

“The word itself comes from the Greek name ‘Aphrodite’, which—I'm sure you know—is the Greek goddess of Sex.” You looked up at him as he began explaining, rolling up the sleeves of his white button down and dusting off his black slacks. Adjusting his glasses on his nose, he continued, “As far as the function of the substance is concerned, it affects hormone levels and accelerates blood flood, increasing chemicals in your brain like—dopamine, glutamic acid, nitric oxide, oxytocin to enhance sexual arousal.” He sounded like he was reading straight out of a book as he spoke with his hands, illustrating the drug to you to paint pretty pictures for you to apply to what was happening to you, in your own body.

It was getting warm, the physical exertion from the adrenaline, likely. The suspense and anxiety from before, along with the shock of Dr. Crane's mist had thrust you into an adrenaline rush. That was surely all it was.

“It relaxes smooth muscles,” he continued. “Stimulates erections, increases arousal.”

You fought the urge to clench your thighs at the idea of it. He was your psych professor and you were his student, and he was testing aphrodisiacs on you and telling you how it made boners and stiff nipples and fucking arousal.

“Professor,” you muttered.

He stopped you, raising a finger. “Please hold. I'm not finished.” He cleared his throat and thought for a moment. “Where was I? Aphrodisiacs are commonly found in natural foods or herbs, though the change in sexual desire is usually unnoticed when these substances—like chocolates, most commonly, or oysters and figs and strawberries—are consumed.”

You clenched the handkerchief in your hand, rubbing your palms against your thighs roughly. “Professor Crane.” You felt like your head was beginning to spin.

He sighed at you, seemingly disappointed. “I hope you're interrupting me for a good reason.”

You stared at him straight on, nearly glaring as a thin layer of sweat began to form over your skin. “It's hot,” you huffed.

“Well, that's to be expected,” he shrugged. He looked you up and down, smiling with a gentle chuckle. “How rude of me. How are you feeling?”

You brought the handkerchief to your forehead, breathing uneasily. “Hot.”

“As you've already stated.” He waved his hand dismissively. “What else?”

You didn't want to say: considering the heat was spreading through your body and scouring your nerves with a flush of lust. The last thing you wanted to do was explain that you were horny to your professor.

He tilted his head at your hesitation, noticing the way you turned away, closed yourself off. He raised a brow. “Come on,” he bid. He didn't sound like he was encouraging you, he sounded like he was taunting you. “Don't leave any details. This is an experiment, might I remind you. If you leave anything out, it could hinder the research.”

“Um,” you struggled, your voice trembling a little. You felt like your whole body would soon follow suit. You felt shaky, like you’d fall if you tried to stand. “Uh.” You couldn’t figure out what to say—it was humiliating to say the least, looking at your professor and forcing your eyes to stay on his face, because fuck…you wanted him so bad.

He raised a brow, waiting expectantly, “Well?”

You couldn’t. “I don’t know,” you muttered. “It’s just hot.”

He reached his hand out and pressed the back of his palm to your forehead. The coolness of his skin against the heat of your face was like a salve to a cruel burn. You leaned into him, stifling your moan as best you could as your eyes fluttered at the contact. It felt so good.

“Mm,” he hummed, pretending not to notice your weakness as he shifted his hand to your temple. “You’re burning up.” You knew he was taunting you when his hand slipped down to your neck, pressing against your scorching skin and sending goosebumps through your body. Your heart felt like it would leap out of your chest any time soon.

When he pulled his hand away, you felt like you could die on the spot as the fever-like heat came back immediately after. You tried to remain impartial, shaking your head to gather your thoughts enough to speak.

“Why couldn’t you have just performed the experiment on your own?” you questioned, wiping your forehead roughly to be rid of the light sheen of sweat coating your skin. “I don’t see how an external test subject was necessary.” Remaining as professional as possible seemed like your best course of action. Insanity or not, this was still a test—you were sure of it—and there was no way you would fail a personal test with Professor Crane and risk falling from such high esteem with him.

He reached behind him where his suit jacket lay neatly on the back of his seat. He removed a second handkerchief from an inside pocket with a dramatic whip, taking his glasses off to clean them as he shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said. “If my theory is correct, the test must be performed with another person present. The substance works by increasing adrenaline. It’s quite similar to my fear toxin.”

You shook your head, “Fear toxin–”

“The adrenaline builds and builds,” he continued, cutting you off with little regard for you, as he glanced through the lenses, “increases the heart rate so much that—if left unresolved—the subject would experience a heart rate so high…” He finished polishing them off before replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and directing his analytical gaze toward you once more. With a lurking smile full of sadistic amusement, he spoke in a low voice, “...your little heart would burst in your chest.”

The anxiety curled in your chest until it began its fast evolution to fear. All these emotions mixing within you wasn’t good for your health—and, apparently, neither was this toxin he had infected you with. “...What?” you said. It was the only thing you could manage to say.

He shrugged, tilting his head with a slight roll of his eyes. “Well,” he began to correct himself, “not literally, of course. It’s highly improbable. But your heart would just…stop.” His eyes seemed to darken as he explained it to you, staring too deeply into your own anxious gaze as he seemed to enjoy every minute of this. With a breath, he began again. “And while my toxin has an antidote, there is only one way to reverse the effects of this aphrodisiac.”

You swallowed thickly. “Which is?”

He smirked, though he tried to hide it. “Sexual gratification.”

If you weren’t burning up, your blood would run cold…and then you’d run just as hot as you were running now. Your head was definitely spinning now, images of forbidden desires—which you had pushed down, down to the depths of your mind—flooding to the surface. So many fantasies, so many urges, being unlocked once more as you thought about…reversing the effects.

But, for the millionth time,  he was your professor. It didn’t matter how many times you’d fantasized about him having you on your knees, his hands in your hair, his lips all over your body…it couldn’t happen. It shouldn’t happen.

You tried not to clear your throat. It would make you more guilty than you already were. “W-well–” Damn it, you cringed. “–even if that’s true…gratification can be…achieved through…”

He raised a brow, happy to mock you. “Through?”

You took in a steadying breath, looking down at your legs to avoid looking up at him. Your skin was burning, your nerves were tingling with an increasing desire “Through self-pleasure. Masturbation. Couldn’t it?” You were already this far, there was no use in being shy.

But even then…

He tilted his head, sighing. “Unfortunately, no,” he said. “You see, once it has been ingested in any form, only another person's hormones can slow the process—which is why you’re still so in control right now–” you didn’t feel in control, “–but even that isn’t enough. In males, sexual gratification can only be achieved by the release of semen when mixed with a woman’s arousal. Likewise, for a female subject, gratification can only be met through insemination.”

He said it so quickly, so nonchalantly. You had no time to process as you blinked rapidly. “Insem–”

“Therefore, a partner is necessary for the experiment, and only a partner of the opposite sex is truly effective, so…I suppose that’s a loss for the homosexuals, hm?” He shrugged, amused by his own joke.

Pain spasmed in your stomach, a sharp stab in your gut and a stinging sensitivity to everything your skin came in contact with. “Fuck,” you sighed, folding over slightly just as a growing migraine became present enough to matter.

He sighed. “Language, please.”

You rubbed your palms harshly against your eyes, forcing your fingertips against your temple in a useless attempt to ease the pain roaring in your head, sacrificing the stabbing in your gut. “It hurts.” It took everything not to sob.

He turned his head. “What kind of pain?”

“All of the above,” you said impatiently, your voice breaking. “It hurts.”

He hummed and leaned forward. “And where does it hurt the most?” He gestured to your general body. “Or is it just about the same everywhere?”

“It's…” you hesitated, “everywhere.”

Crane tilted his head, looking at you with a glow of disappointment. He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them to the side and directing his attention entirely on you.

“Now, my dear,” you shuddered at the name, “This doesn't work if you aren't being completely and entirely honest with me. I am quite content to sit here and watch you succumb to my little toxin.” A wash of shock overtook you, your palpitating conflicted between beating too fast and stopping all together.

He continued, a taunting grin curving his lips as he gave you his cold stare. “Without me to help you,” he shrugged, “you have no way of reversing the effects. I'll say you came down with a sudden fever, one you just couldn't fight.”

The hair along your arms stood tall. He couldn't be serious, it was a joke… But when have you known Jonathan Crane to joke?

“But…” you fumbled, trying to decide what to say, “But I've been perfectly healthy. Why would people believe you?”

He tilted his head, looking at you like you were just the cutest, dumbest little thing. “This is Gotham, sweetheart.” He shrugged dismissively. “People die every day, and no one fucking cares.”

Breathing heavily, you put a hand over your stomach and let out a pained moan. You thought to yourself, over his words. You shook your head, not meeting his eyes.

“Cramps.”

He raised a brow questioningly. “Hm?”

“The pain,” you stated. “Stomach cramps, tender nipples and…and clitoris. Even the fabric of my clothes is too much. It hurts.” You ignored the heat in your face. It didn't matter now—the insecurity, the awkwardness. It was strictly scientific. Of course, it was.

“Very good,” he grinned, leaning back and crossing his legs. “Tell me more.”

“Tunnel vision, dizziness, migraine, short breath. It's like… it's almost like a panic attack.”

“Is that all?”

“It's really hot,” you huffed, another pained moan escaping through your unsteady breaths. “I'm really hot.” It didn't matter. “Fuck, professor, I need you.”

“What's that?” The fucker was getting off on teasing you like this, mocking you like it was his only pleasure in life.

“I need you,” you urged, trying not to sound as whiny as you feel.

“Is that so?” he raised a brow, smirking. “Have you told me everything then?”

“Yes, everything. Please.”

“Are you certain?” he pushed.

You felt the wet on your cheek and realized your need and the pain had reached your eyes, the tears welling along your waterline and dropping down in one streak down your face. “Please, I'll do anything!”

He paused slightly. “What's that?”

You reached out and grabbed his hands, pulling them into your lap. There was only one way to ease the pain, the heat, the desire. And you were set on it.

“I'll do anything! Just please, fuck me. Please,” you gasped, pushing through the pounding in your head and the fire in your core.

“Well,” he sighed, pulling his hand from your grasp to check his watch. He tsked to himself, thinking before he hummed. “I suppose I can do that.”

You could have cried—you were crying. “Thank you,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“But,” he pointed a finger at your face, as though you were a dog being disciplined, “you must do as I say.”

You nodded urgently. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” You shuddered at his words, the praise washing over you like a wave swallowing you whole as you lay on the sandy shore of a beach.

He snapped at you, indefinitely grabbing your attention as he pointed to the space in front of him. You stood from the bed in a moment, your weak legs barely holding you up.

His hands landed on your waist, and you nearly melted at the contact. He turned you around in his hands, looking you up and down with an appreciative moan. “Let's see what we're working with,” he said. “Strip.” The order was plain and simple.

You did as you were told, trying not to be shy about it. He didn't care about shyness, and it didn't matter anyway.

You began peeling your clothes off, moving faster with each inch of skin revealed. Once you were bare in front of him, you fought the overwhelming urge to cover yourself. He wanted to see you, to see what you had to offer.

He hummed to himself, snapping again. “On your knees.” Again, you did as you were told.

Moving to your knees, he took your face in his large hands. You melted against him, your eyes fluttering shut as a deep moan escaped you. His hands felt so cool in comparison to your burning skin. If you weren't so desperate for more of what he had to offer, you would be perfectly content with sitting here and having him hold you like this.

When his hands lightly smacked your cheeks, your eyes snapped open as you brought yourself out of the sticky feeling of the subtle pleasure. “Keep your eyes open. And open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, and he slipped his thumb between them and pried your mouth open wide. He set his thumb on your tongue, pulling it over your bottom set of teeth and pushing his thumb farther into your mouth. Your breaths blew over his skin as he felt the softness of your cheeks, your tongue.

He surprised you when his hand was suddenly between your thighs, his fingers stroking through your folds as you gasped. “Jesus, you're fucking dripping.” He ran his fingers along your lower lips and the insides of your thighs where the arousal was smothered halfway down your thighs.

You whimpered and whined when he shoved his middle and ring fingers inside of you without warning, delving them into your hot, dripping, tight pussy. You tried not to squirm at the way his fingers wiggled inside you.

“Yes,” he sighed. “This'll do nicely.”

He pulled them out of you, shoving those same fingers between your lips to make you taste your arousal. “Suck,” he commanded. You obeyed.

You suckled around his fingers and felt another rush of molten arousal wash through you at the way he stares at you, his eyes dark and primal. You needed him.

“Strip me,” he said, pulling his hand away. From your knees, you unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, letting your hands press against the expanse of his chest and soothe you the slightest bit. You unbuckled his best and shoved his pants down his legs, removed it from his body like undoing ropes tying him to a chair.

You stared at his briefs, his half-hard erection tenting them as he enjoyed the sight of your mindless struggling. He placed a hand in your hair, gripping a fistful and holding you securely. “Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”

You pulled his boxers down without hesitation and only faltered as you saw him for the first time. This was absurd. You never thought you'd find yourself in this situation—staring at your professor’s erection, long and hard and flushed with his own lust for your body, about to wrap your lips around it.

You gripped him in your hand and he stifled a grunt at the feeling of your insistence. You stroked him a few times before sticking your tongue out and licking a long strip up the underside of his cock, tasting his precum beading at the tip and immediately becoming addicted to the taste. Whether it was him or just his toxin, the taste of him was mesmerizing, and you would do anything for more.

You wrapped your lips around him, suckling around the tip and taking him deeper. He let his head fall back just a bit, still watching you as his thighs clenched and his hair gripped your hair tighter. He did not guide you or push you down, he didn't think he needed to. You surprised him as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, taking him farther and farther down with each trip back and forth until he was filling your throat with his length and making you gag.

He grunted as you suckled some more. Your cunt clenched around nothing, aching for any kind of pressure as your clit pulsed and your walls fluttered. You ran a hand down your body, dipping between your thighs to try and ease some of the tension. You pressed down hard on your clit one time, a moan coming from your throat and shivering through his spine.

He pulled you by your hair off of his cock. “Did I say you could touch yourself, sweetheart?” You shook your head pathetically. “Then why are you doing it?”

You couldn't win this, you knew that. Using your desperation as regret, you frowned and whispered, “Sorry, sir.”

He loosened his grip enough to let you get back to work, still holding onto you as he leaned back again. Your lips found his cock once more, addicted and able to ignore the burn for now, a short escape from the pain.

You swirled your tongue around him, suckling as you went along. Crane stared at you with a dark gaze as you sucked him off. You flattened your tongue against him, going farther down his length with each swallow around his tip. Sticky white precum continued to seep from his slit and onto your tongue. You were drunk on the taste of him, taking him as best you could.

Crane looked like a dream, his head tilted back and his lips parted as you brought him closer and closer to a great release. Both his hands were tangled in your hair by now, holding on to you and his remaining control.

He was right about the hormones. Being this close to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne, the scent of his skin swirling around your head, was easing the searing desperation.

You felt him twitching on your tongue and suckled around him a little more. He was close, you could feel it. You didn't know if it was his toxin or not, but the idea of him spilling all over your tongue drove you crazy with lust.

He began to tense and groaned. “And that's enough of that,” he huffed, pulling you off of him by your hair and keeping you back, even through your attempts at licking the precum spilling from his tip.

“My, my,” he breathed. “Such a desperate little thing.”

You caught your breath as you spoke, your lips swollen and your eyes hooded as you did. “I need you,” you begged, gripping his thighs tight.

“Well,” he stood, snapping and gesturing for you to stand as well—you obeyed. “You'll have to be patient, sweetheart. I'm not through with my tests yet.” You whined. “Lay down.”

You did as told once again. He looked over your body, running a finger down the center of you, from your collarbone to your pelvis. You shuddered and whimpered but said nothing.

“I don't have any cuffs in here, so a tie will have to work.” He found his jacket draped along the back of his chair and pulled the tie neatly tucked inside of it out.

You held your breath as he reached for your hands, grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head. He put them around the bars of the headboard and, with more skill than you expected, tied them together to keep you bound there.

He gave a content sigh at the sight of you, smiling to himself. His eyes found yours as his fingertips grazed your side “Now, you can be as loud as you want. No need to hold back. We're all alone in here.”

He stood over you as his palm smoothed along your skin, reaching further down until he found your mound, slick and hot and waiting for something to slip inside it.

Your breath quickened in anticipation, waiting for him to make his move as his fingers played with your skin. Holding eye contact, he slipped his finger inside of you, parting your folds and burying itself in deep.

Your head lolled back as you moaned, the sound sticky with lust. He sank in deep, inch by torturous inch. You held your breath in your, feeling each little bit disappear, knuckle by knuckle, inside.

A second finger joined the first, spreading you open for him. They thrust and curled inside you. You moaned and found yourself grinding your hips into his palm. You needed more, more of him, the bliss of his fingers spread through your body to ease the fire and feed it all at the same time.

“Professor,” you whimpered. “More, please.”

“Hm?” he taunted. “That's not enough for you? You need more?”

“Yes, please,” you gasped.

You clenched around his fingers, feeling him pumping his fingers in and out of you. He curled them against a sweet spot deep within your dripping cunt, exploring your body and becoming familiar with each little nook and cranny. Your back arched and your moans were loud in the space of the bedroom. You had never felt so good before, just by his hands alone.

When his speed increased, you thought you would cry. The dizziness was eased by his pleasure, the headache had waned enough for you to see, and the pain in your stomach had simmered to a dull ache. But his fingers stuffed inside only seemed to heighten the heavy pulse in her veins.

You pulled at the tie wrapped around your wrists as you whined. “Professor, please,” you huffed. “I can't take it. I—fuck—needa cum.”

Letting out what seemed to be a disinterested sigh, he shrugged. “Since you want it so bad…” His thumb pressed against your clit and your back arched slightly at the contact.

You cursed breathily, seeing stars as the pleasure grew and grew and grew at the expertise of his hand. You thought you were going to explode, reaching your peak far too quickly as a knot began to build in your stomach. You tensed, clenching around his fingers as he spread them and curled them and pumped them in and out of you.

“Fuck, can I cum?” you moaned. “Please, professor, I need it so bad.”

He didn’t answer you, rubbing your clit in tight, fast circles as he felt you flutter around his fingers, he listened to your unsteady breath and felt your trembling thighs. You could feel yourself reaching that point, on the verge of finding that bliss…

You whimpered meekly when he suddenly stopped. Watching you with a dark smile, he chuckled as you squirmed and tried to move your hips against his hand. A tear slipped down the side of your face as the pain returned, sharper this time and spreading through your body like you’d been shocked.

“Dr. Crane, please,” you cried, squirming like a worm on a hook.

He laughed at you, looking your body up and down as he disregarded your need and spoke. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Another tear joined the first. “Please, I can’t.”

He tutted, shaking his head. “Ah-ah. Answer my question or I’ll stop completely.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Please, it hurts. So bad, everything hurts.”

He nodded, “Good girl.” He rewarded you with the movement of his hand once more, filling you back up with his fingers and thrusting them into you.

You were blinded by the pleasure and continued to ride it out, unknowingly that he was beginning a cycle. He would have you crying, breaking down in tears and so desperate to cum all over his hand, only to rob you of such pleasure every time you got close to tasting it. And it hurt. All of it hurt, like you were being burned alive. The imaginary flames licked at your flesh and threatened to sear it off your bones.

You didn’t know how many times he’d done this cruel act upon you, how long you’d been laying there with your legs spread open wide and his fingers shoved inside of you, too caught up in the pain and the ecstasy of it all. “C-Crane,” you muttered, your lips and your tongue lazy with dissatisfaction. “Please.”

You could tell how fun this experiment was for him, and not even in just the sadistic way. He watched you closely, his eyes hooded and dark and his cheeks pink. His cock was still hard, maybe harder still in a painful way that your useless sounds helped him to ignore.

He hummed deeply, considering another dance with desperation. But he let out a deep sigh and shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, his thumb, which had been lazily rubbing too-slow circles on your clit, picking up once again.

And you were so scared it was a trick, that he would pull away and leave you to sob again at the loss of stimulation. The knot built, the dam overflowed, and as you reached your breaking point, you gasped when it all came loose. Your back arched, and you went blind as the pleasure crashed down on you like nothing you’d ever felt.

You cried out his name—or some garbled version of his name that came with not being in touch with your own body. You moaned, breathing too fast and dizzying yourself with your harsh breaths as you did. Crane smiled as he watched you, coaxing you through it as he noted just how good this orgasm must have felt for you.

“Look at you go,” he smiled, still rubbing your clit as he watched the last spasms of pleasure shoot through you. You were so pretty like this, writhing in bed as you came on his hand for the first time, whimpering and whining like a dog.

He pulled his hand from you, darting his tongue to lick the bottom lip of his wolfish grin.

As you began to settle, you let in a deep breath to fill your lungs, laying back lazily as you were offered a moment of stillness. All the pain from before was gone, the thumping in your heart calmed to a slightly quickened ut otherwise rhythmic beat. You could breathe.

Crane was staring at his watch, looking between you and it as he seemed to time something. You paid him little mind, soaking up the calm for as long as you had it.

It was all too soon that the pain began to slip back in, first as a distant sting in your head, then as the dull ache in your stomach. As your breath sped again at the slowly increasing ache, so too did your heart once more. Then the sensitivity of your skin, the burn of your goosebumps rubbing against the sheets or clashing cruelty with the air.

Unable to take so much, you began to cry. “Professor,” you spoke shakily. “Fuck, it hurts. It fucking hurts so bad. I can't—I can't, I can't.”

“Two minutes and seventeen seconds,” he stamped. “It took two minutes for the aphrodisiac to kick in again after the first orgasm has been reached.”

He stared at you, rubbing his bottom lip and sighing with a distant smile. “Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he mumbled. “To make you cum over and over and over again until you're,” he sighed longingly, his eyes fluttering and his jaw clenching with an urge he tried to conceal, “sobbing, trembling in my hands, begging me to stop.”

You shuddered, wanting it so badly but also dreading the opposite of this torture, where you would never stop shaking, never be able to calm as he pulled an orgasm after you one right after the other.

He shook himself out of his daydream. “But, I'm not sure how long you've got. That's an experiment for another day.”

You wanted to say something, but you were at your point in desperation where words were harder and harder to form unless the adrenaline really kicked in.

He positioned himself on the bed, his hand smoothing over your sides. “I bet you need me now, don't you?” Whining pathetically and not caring anymore about sounding decent, you nodded. “Yes, you do. You need me to fuck you, hhh? Take you nice and rough from behind. You need me to fuck you nice and deep, little slut?”

You nodded again, crying, “Please.”

He stood on his knees in front of you, taking your body in his hands and flipping you around, not caring for a moment that you were still tied to the bed frame with your arms now crossed.

He pulled you up on your knees and put your ass on display for him. His hands slapped down on your ass, rubbing harshly on the skin as you whined.

“Be a good girl and beg me to fuck you, sweetheart,” he breathed.

Had you not begged enough? You couldn't count the amount of times you'd told him “Please, professor, please,” and been denied for the sake of his sadism?

Still, you were desperate and you could care less at the moment about his urge to humiliate you. So you did beg, your pounding heart squeezing tears out of your eyes.

“Please, Crane,” you sobbed. “Please, I need you so fucking bad. It hurts, please.”

You were about to continue pouring your heart out when he cut you off. “Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Calm down. It's not that serious.”

He took his cock in his hand, stroking himself a couple times as he spread your folds for him. In one push, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your tight pussy. He groaned roughly as you clenched around his cock and moaned.

“So fucking tight,” he sighed. “You've been needing this, haven't you?”

You moaned deep in your throat, melting at the feeling of him buried so deep. He chuckled, high off the sight of you so weak. He pulled out of you, an agonizingly slow drag that burned at your nerves until he suddenly thrust back in with a harsh thrust. You lost your breath, your lungs squeezed tight at the pleasure.

He grunted, doing it again and again and again as he just kept holding you tighter, pulling you back to meet each thrust. The smack of his hips against your ass was loud and followed in quick succession as he gave you no time between each thrust to recover.

You felt like your brain had melted, reduced to. a pile of mush in your head as you let yourself be devoured by the pure ecstasy of each thrust staving off the pain of the toxin burning you out.

You gripped the sheets, clenching and unclenching and trying so hard to keep it together as he split you open on his cock.

Crane was hardly keeping it together himself, gripping your waist as he fucked into you from behind. His hair had fallen over his eyes, which were dark and crazed. He had you in his clutches—you, his prey and he, your predator, his teeth and claws in your flesh and bone.

“Is this everything you imagined?” he huffed, bringing a hand to wrap around your throat and pull you up.

You clenched tighter around him and felt your limbs going weak—if he hadn't been holding you up, you would have fallen against the bed again.

“W-What?” you gasped, small and pathetic.

He laughed darkly. “You think I didn't know? What, you thought I couldn't see the way you stared at me during my lectures? You thought I didn't see your glances at my crotch, wondering how big my cock was? Huh? How good it would feel if I fucked you?”

You just kept moaning, unable to hold in your pleasures sobs. He fucked you a little harder, pulling more and more out of you as he did. “Why do you think I chose you, huh?” he taunted, laughing again. “You were perfect for the role. My cock hungry student who would do anything to impress me. Fuck, you were practically begging to be the subject of this experiment.”

It was hard to listen to him when you could barely focus on your own pleasure. Your arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating you in slick. He just kept fucking you, drunk on the pleasure.

“N-Need,” you stuttered, trying to form the words as your tongue was not your own. “Mm-fuck, needa cum.”

He didn't say anything this time as he pressed his finger to your clit. You went limb, letting yourself fall onto the bed as you whined pathetically.

“Look at you,” he smiled, his head tilted back as he relished in the squeeze of your cunt. “My little fucking whore. Does it feel good?” He laughed again, rubbing your clit a little faster. “Are you gonna cum on my cock like a pathetic slut? Hm?”

To answer his question, you did. You let out a choked cry when you came, your eyes rolling back as you went blind with the pleasure that crashed down on you. Your whole body shattered, and your thighs shook at the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck,” he huffed as you began tighter, your pussy fluttering around him and only bringing him closer to his own longed-for release. “That's a good fucking girl.”

Your head was filled with white-noise as you floated in that space between orgasms, where your whole body was numb to everything else going on. As he kept fucking you, it didn't last long. You came to and found yourself thrown into another dance of lust.

You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave to you. “You like that? You like being ruined by me? Hm?” he breathed, still rubbing your clit, even as you squirm.

You didn't respond, overcome by whining moans. But that was more amusing. “I know you do,” he said. “You liked being fucked dumb, don't you?”

His hips continued to snap into yours, shoving deeper and rougher. His finger on your clit continued to build you up, higher and higher.

“Are you gonna cum again?” he asked, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he kept fucking into you. “Yeah? You're squeezing my cock like you are.”

You managed to nod your head and nothing more, the knot building again in your stomach getting so tight, so close to another blinding release. You braced for it as it grew closer.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum, too,” he breathed. “Gonna cum—so deep inside you. You'll be dripping with me, sweetheart.”

You mewled, closer and closer to–

A loud cry tore from your throat as you came again, blinded and devoured and reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess as the pleasure shook through your body like a rattle.

Unable to hold himself in anymore, he moaned roughly as he spilled so deep inside of you. He gripped you roughly, pulling you back against his cock as he buried himself deep, grinding into you as he fucked his cum inside so you were stuffed with it.

“Fuck, I love this tight little cunt,” he huffed. “Perfect for me.” Your pussy fluttered around him, squeezing him tight as you squelched and gushed around him.

You lay limp against the sheets as the blood roared in your ears. After a moment, when he'd caught his breath and came down from his high, he pulled out of you and let you fall against the bed.

He breathed, letting out a deep sigh. He looked down at you, your spent body still shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. He picked up your leg, pulling it apart to see your pussy, stuffed and leaking his cum.

He could have cum again at the mere sight of you, your messiness, your exhaustion. He dropped your leg and sat next to your limp body.

“Now,” he said, another breath leaving his lungs. “How do you feel?”

You just lay there, letting out a tiny moan after a while as your only response as you tried to recover. All the pain had disappeared, and all that was left was the heaviness in your limbs and the sore muscles to come.

He hummed a laugh. “I bet.” He reached for his glasses, putting them on the bridge of his nose once more and adjusting them.

He stood, walking somewhere in the room as your eyes followed him. When he picked up a camera hidden in the corner capturing everything that just happened, you couldn't do anything but think about how you wanted to watch it back and see just how much he'd wrecked your body.

He stopped the recording, setting the camera down with a smile. He looked at you again, kneeling in front of the bed as he rested his chin on his hands. “So many things for us to do, so many experiments to run. And now I've got you,” he chuckled, “my own personal lab rat.”

You watched him lazily, the exhaustion pulling at your system. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You sighed into the kiss, moving as much as you could as your lips melded together. It breathed life into you, more life than it should have.

He pulled away all too soon, standing up and turning away from you as he left the room. You laid there a moment longer, thinking back over the events of the night. His own personal lab rat.

You smiled.

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyism @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bernelflo @dragonslayersupremacy @alurafairy @pietroxreader @darkcastle167 @neonpurplestars89-blog Tag yourself here...

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #dc scarecrow #batman begins #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane fanfiction #batman begins fanfic #fanfic #fanficiton #reader insert #female reader #10 days of smutmas

[sodamnradd]

“Heya, mate. Is Hermione Granger around?”

Draco leaned over the counter, giving the pathetic, gap-toothed wanker sporting a Flourish & Blotts t-shirt a bored look. “Hermione Granger?” he intoned as if he had never heard that name before.

Gap-Tooth shuffled uneasily. “Yeah. She works here. Doesn’t she?”

“Does she?” Draco inspected his nails.

Gap-Tooth wandered off awkwardly, pretending to scan the shelves.

Draco’s eyes narrowed when he paused at the Love Potions, kept under strict lock and key.

Gap-Tooth asked, “Erm are you able to—?”

“No,” said Draco, point-blank.

Something about Draco’s expression made him pale, and he was out the door less than ten seconds later.

When Gap-Tooth was gone, Draco glanced down and said, “You’re all clear.”

Dusting off her trousers, Granger rose to her feet and picked up the inventory scroll again. “I’ve told him I’m not interested,” she said, purposely avoiding Draco’s eye.

“You didn’t drive the point. He probably thinks he’s being cute stalking you everywhere.”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t even visit Flourish and Blotts anymore.”

“Ordering books in the mail is more efficient.”

He might have believed her if it weren’t for the countless times she’d returned late from her lunch break, carrying teetering piles of new books. But ever since Gap-Tooth started working there, lunchtimes were reduced to eating soggy sandwiches in the lab.

Gap-Tooth returned two days later.

Granger didn’t see him coming through the shopfront window and he caught her unaware, shelving cloud-shaped vials of Dreamless Sleep. His voice made her jump, a couple of bottles flying out of her hands and shattering.

Draco groaned, enchanting the mop and pail to clean up the mess but keeping his distance while Granger attempted to dodge Gap-Tooth’s advances.

Gap-Tooth: Something, something “…thought you worked here but…” gesturing to Draco.

Granger, giggling awkwardly: “Did he? Draco’s such a…” Something.

Draco raised a brow, wondering what she’d called him because it almost sounded affectionate.

Gap-Tooth: Mumble, mumble “…go out sometime?”

Granger more awkward giggling, cheeks pink: “…so busy… not really dating… you’re nice but…”

Gap-Tooth, realising he was losing his chance: “…just one date… promise I…” Stepping closer.

Granger, nearly tripping over the oscillating mop in her retreat: “…it’s just that I’m not… I don’t…”

Gap-Tooth, even closer, grinning impishly, hideous teeth on full display: Something, something “…casual? You look like you could use some fun.”

Draco bristled. The audacity of this wanker.

Having had enough, he rounded the counter and stepped in between Gap-Tooth and Granger. “Did you ask her out?”

Gap-Tooth frowned, looking a little afraid. “Yeah, so?”

“Did she say yes?”

“She was just about to—”

Draco turned to Granger. “Were you about to say yes?”

“No,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze. She was too bloody nice for her own good.

Lucky for her, Draco wasn’t.

“There’s your answer,” said Draco, shooing Gap-Tooth towards the door. “Stop harassing her.”

Gap-Tooth looked at Granger, but she refused to look back. Disheartened, he made his way to the door.

Draco called out, “Oh, and if you bother her at Flourish and Blotts again, I’ll turn you into a rat and dump you in our lab cage.”

“Malfoy!” Hermione swatted Draco’s arm once Gap-Tooth was gone, but her eyes were bright with laughter. “That was so unkind.”

“Yes. And?” He waited.

She sighed as if it physically pained her to say, “Thank you.”

He grinned, pleased. Then tugged at a curl that had come loose from her clip. “And?”

She stepped closer, looking up at him with large brown eyes. “And you were right.”

“And?” Draco’s stomach fluttered. He was usually so composed, but nothing about Granger made him feel ordinary.

“And…” She rose to her tiptoes and locked her hands behind his neck, parting her lips in anticipation as they met halfway. “…maybe we should start telling people about us.”

(638 words, prompt: Yes. And? from Twitter)

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dhr #drabble #sodamnrad #sodamnraddrabbles

[whumpay]

babe wake up new whumpay prompts dropped. like last year, im posting early for more time to prepare

Welcome to Whumpay 2024! Up above you will see the basic prompt list and down below the cut you will see it written out in a list, as well as three mini challenges (and by extension, the extreme edition)

Rules are the same as usual

You only have to use one (Or two, if you’re doing the extreme edition.) prompt a day! But you’re welcome to use multiple if you want to, and it still counts for both.

I know the description of the blog says it’s a writing event, but if you want to draw or make other kinds of content, that’s cool too.

Have fun, tag content warnings (such as noncon, graphic violence, etc) and try not to be crushed by the mortifying ordeal of posting your writing.

This is a pretty chill event so you can start posting whenever but I’ll be reblogging posts made to the #Whumpay2024 tag throughout May. For real this time.

These all also apply to these three special mini challenges, consisting of a 7 day, a 10 day, and a 14 day prompt list.

EXTREME EDITION: This year's extreme edition doesn't have its own prompt list, but instead, youll be taking all three mini challenges in order along with the main prompt list. Some of these fit pretty well, others less so.

1 - Mad Science:

Day 1: Strapped To An Operating Table

Day 2: Paralytic Drug

Day 3: Made A Lab Rat

Day 4: Vivisection

Day 5: Truth Potion/Serum/Spell

Day 6: Russian Roulette

1 - Attacks, Mental & Physical:   

Day 7: Heart Attack

Day 8:  Asthma Attack

Day 9: Animal Attack

Day 10: Panic Attack

3 - Ineffective Medical Care:

Day 11: Medical Torture

Day 12: Withholding Medical Treatment

Day 13: Medication Tampering

Day 14: Injury Brushed Off

Day 15: No Anesthetic

4: Mindfuck

Day 16: Presumed Dead

Day 17: Memory Loss

Day 18: Stockholm Syndrome

Day 19: Phantom Pains

Day 20: Love Potion/Spell

Day 21: Role Reversal 

5. Nature's Revenge

Day 22: Slowly Running Out Of Air

Day 23: Natural Disaster 

Day 24: Struck By Lightning

Day 25: Snowed In

Day 26: Heatstroke

6. Traps & Trauma

Day 27: Caught In A Net

Day 28: Traumatic Touch Aversion

Day 29: Used As Bait

Day 30:  Flashbacks

Day 31: Choose Who Lives

Mini challenge #1: Torture

#1: Tortured For Information

#2: Whipping

#3: Branding

#4: Begging To Be Killed

#5: Recorded/Broadcast Torture

#6: False Execution

#7: Shock Collar

Mini Challenge #2: Dialogue

#8: “Why are you doing this?”

#9: “Don’t look.”

#10: “You look awful.”

#11: “Who did this to you?”

#12: “No one is coming for you.”

#13: “No one cares about me.”

#14: “Don’t lie to me.”

#15: “Stay with me, please.”

#16: ”You’re scaring me!”

#17: “You’re a monster.”

Mini Challenge #3: Aftermath

#18: Fighting Against Caretaker 

#19: Seeking Revenge

#20: Taking The Blame

#21: Barely Conscious

#22: Disassociation

#23: Carried To Safety

#24: Scars

#25: Unhealthy Codependency 

#26: Infected Wound

#27: Survivor’s Guilt

#28: Touch Starvation

#29: Abandonment Issues

#30: Cradled In Someone’s Arms

#31: Adrenaline Crash

Alt Prompts:

Death Game

Came Back Wrong

Attack The Injury

Healing Malfunction

Left For Dead 

Mistaken Identity

Dazed

Trapped Under Rubble

Drowning

Disowned By Family

Hostage Situation

Have fun everybody!

#whump #whump event #whump writing #writing #whumpay #writers #writing event #whump prompt #whumpay2024 #prompt list #whump prompt list

[getonite]

(𝟎.𝟗𝐊+) 𝐌𝐒𝐆: (OH) I DON'T GET IT, YOUR THE ONLY THING THAT I LOVE

ayanokoji kiyotaka/fem,reader ; no prns r stated, however, through desc it feels like it was meant for fem readers, kissing, cringe confession, 'ask what it means + realization' trope, reader finessing a kiss from him, + me heavily projecting my aroaceness on him.

despite his percieved outward appearance and demeanor, ayanokoji's mind is quite different. he has some semblance of the ability to feel, though he can't outwardly express it. he doesn't and has never craved human warmth or affection since his infancy.

its unnecessary, there's simply no place for it in his life. though, there are times where he wishes he could feel what others do, where he could smile like others do.

though no one has ever prompted him to start that journey. not kushida, not horikita, not even karuizawa. he wonders if he'll forever remain behind the doors of those polished white walls. that is until he feels the warmth of your hand on his arm.

those dehumanizing walls of class where he was observed like a lab rat remain fresh in his head.

reminders that his father would do anything to get his most successful product back in his grasp.

though when you give him that sweet dimpled smile he pushes it to the back of his head. never forgetting, though still on the forefront of his mind.

when you stand on the tips of your toes to reach his height, releasing him that cute little giggle. he can't help but give in . . . just a little. after all, how could he stand on his word when the person he's against is too pretty.

despite how intelligent he is, he can't seem to pick up that he feels diffrent towards you.

the reality of differential feelings towards others was a bit foreign. even when he stepped into the social atmosphere of high school, his view didn't quite change. no matter the girl, no matter the boy, he felt the same.

until you whispered the nickname you made up for him. “kiyoookoji!” in your cute tone, you dragged out the beginning of his name, to end it with the end of his last name. he finds it a bit cute? that you've crafted a nickname for him.

one only you are allowed to use.

nothing changed until you ( forcibly ), dragged him to your dorm and happily explained the anime he had missed out on during his previous 16 years.

kiyotaka ayanokoji hadn't quite realized how he felt, despite the way he leaned in closer to hear you better. despite when his eyes immediately snap to your form. despite the wave of warmth he felt when you hugged his arm, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you look up at him with those pretty doe eyes.

“kiyoooo-o!” you smile and drag his name out per usual. your body is tilted towards his as you lean on the rail of the cruise balcony.

it was another island exam, not very surprising.

though the luxury, the beautiful seas, and the atmosphere is something you could never get over. “hm?”

“whatcha thinkin’ bout?” you smirk and lean in, “im guessing that's your thinking face considering ive never seen you frown like that . . . or ever” normally, people would smile at your teasing, though in his mind he wants to, his lips don't move.

“can i ask you something?”

“course, what is it?”

“. . . i think im feeling something, towards someone.”

“oh?” intrigue fills you, “do tell.”

“. . . something about them is different. i feel different when im near them, like im letting my guard down instinctually. i want them.”

you hum, a finger playfully tapping against your chin. “diffrent? how?”

“like . . . i feel warm around them. they grab my attention whenever they walk in. and i like listening to them. no matter how ridiculous it sounds. i just think it's—i feel different around them. and i don't know if i want it to stop . . . i think i do?”

ayanokoji's eyes drift to you. his eyebrow raises slightly. “what?”

“kiyo,” you smile, “you've developed a crush. normal people get that all the time.”

“huh,” he mumbles.

“care to tell me who's caught your eye? i wanna know what your type is,” you tease and lean towards him.

ayanokoji feels a sense of amusement at your actions. he takes a breath before looking at you, his eyes locked on yours. “your smart, i think you already know the answer to that question,” he whispers.

your lips twitch into a smile, “cute.”

you hum and stand up straight, taking steps to be right in front of him. “would you care to test my theory?” you smirk, mischief in those pretty eyes he loves to drown in.

“and how would we do that?”

“kiss,” you whisper and stand on the tips of your toes, your lips hovering over his. you feel his breath against your lips and you lock eyes with him once more. “care to tr—”

before you can finish your words, his hand finds purchase on your hip and he presses his lips to yours. his eyes flutter closed as he takes in the feeling he gets from you. your voice, your smile, your touches.

after a moment he breaks away, his hand lingering on your hip. his eyes open and looks into your eyes, not uttering a word.

. . .

“wellllll, was i right?”

he presses his lips to yours once again, holding you a bit closer this time. you chuckle and cup the side of his face. you break away, only for him to lean in for another.

“hey you,” you whisper, causing him to pause, “that's a lot of kissing for someone who isn't my boyfriend.”

ayanokoji's lips twitch at your words, “then would you date me?”

a hum leaves your lips. your eyes travel to his, your thumb running along his bottom lip. a smile grows on your face. “since you asked so nicely, yes.”

#𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 .ᐟ #ayanokoji x reader #classroom of the elite x reader #cote x reader #classroom of the elite #ayanokoji kiyotaka #self indulgent fic #kiyotaka ayanokoji #kiyotaka ayanokouji #kiyotaka ayanokoji x reader

[papiliomame]

Ectoberweek 2023 Day 29: Masquerade

SPOILER FOR A GLITCH IN TIME!

I recently rewatched the endings of the anime "Durarara!!" and I was thinking that so many versions of Danny popped up throughout the years, it is time for a Danno-tower.

I limited myself to 15 versions and a few other AUs sprinkled here and there because 1) this artwork is already long enough and 2) there are so many AUs and different designs I would need much more time to draw them all.

Here is a list of what AUs are shown here in no particular order and if possible where I could manage to pinpoint the origin of the AU:

Human Danny(Canon)

Ghost Danny(Canon)

End of AGIT Dan Phantom ( A Glitch in Time graphic novel)

Ghost King Danny

DCxDP ( I just put Batman in there as a representative for the whole DC cast)

Crypid/Monster Danny

Spider Danno (dannypocalypse)

Full Hazmat Danny (Mask by @in-the-ghost-mode)

Disabled AU ( I think this post by @madametamma made this AU more known in the phandom on tumblr but I personally encountered this AU in Everything was White by @lexosaurus which the release of the first chapter predates the post)

Little Baby Man (@tourettesdog)

Clown Danny (@letswonderspirit)

Coffee Ghost Danny (@typo-art)

Winged Danny(@the-stove-is-on-fire)

Merman Danny (not sure about this one, but my guess it's from the "Mermay" art event which occur on several social media sites?)

Lab rat Danny

Team Halloween (@the-stove-is-on-fire and @healthysharkshealthyocean fic Ghost in the NYC and the comics)

Shared Cujostody AU(@duchi-nesten)

Wes and Kyle Weston(not sure where the origin is but @lexosaurus made a whole dossier about him here, there are also infos how Kyle Weston came to be)

Dani Masters( a variation of this is the Cheese Melt AU by @lilianade-comics)

I hope those are the correct, for everything else I couldn't really find where they originated from.

This idea was original for the "ten years" prompt but after some work I conclude this fits more the "masquerade" prompt, because AUs are kind of a masquerade to the canon.

#danny phantom #ectoberweek2023 #day 29 #masquerade #agit spoilers #agit #danny fenton #just danny #danno-tower #dpxdc #dcxdp #digital illustration #my art

[anonymousangstmonster]

Prompt #27

The Fentons had two children, Jazz who was one and a half, and Nate who was six months at the time. They were planning on adding a third child to the group, ‘planning’ as in ‘this is the twelfth attempt and I’m sick of them dying every time’.

They had theoretically constructed the genetics for a human-ghost hybrid, and were hoping to raise it as their son along with their other two kids. They had modeled the human genes off of their son Nathaniel, black hair, blue eyes, freckles. The difficult part was getting it to mix with the ectoplasm without dying in the incubator or coming out malformed or tearing itself to shreds on week one.

They were at take twenty six and it looked pretty promising so far, no imploding, no three extra eyes, no melting, and it was already two months into gestation!

A nerve-wracking seven months later the little supposedly-half-ghost baby boy came out of the artificial womb crying his tiny little lungs out. And he already had a name, ‘Daniel’ or ‘Danny’ for short.

The legal process of getting Danny a birth certificate and at the same time being legal property of FentonWorks as an experiment was a mess.

The Fentons loved their strange new son with all their hearts, but always kept in mind that he was an experiment, a specimen, a creature made for scientific purposes. They chipped him, planning on doing more when he got older, such as adding a failsafe to make him fall asleep in emergencies, and a brand to make sure others new who he belonged to. Though they had to wait until he was at least fourteen to do all that, ‘something something ethics something something we will come after you for human experimentation if you don’t wait something something’.

When Danny turned two the parents cut him open to see how his insides were faring(asleep and without breaking any bones of course), and again when he was six.

He got to go to school and make friends, even though the Fentons knew he would never go to college or get a job.

Nate grew up with a lab rat for a little brother, and he could never ask for more. Though as he grew to love ectobiology and Jazz grew more towards human psychology, it was looking like Nate would be the one to take over FentonWorks someday. So that’s what Jack and Maddie kept telling him, “When you take over, you’ll be in charge of what to do with Danny.”

When Danny turned ten and Nate eleven, Danny was having another vivisection(heavily drugged and this time they were going to cut out his ribs to see his heart and lungs) and Nate got to watch! Apparently his brother had a strong core, something that only ghosts with a particularly traumatizing death had, strange. The parents spoke to Nate again, “One day when you’re older, you’ll be doing this, all on your own.”

The day after Danny turned fourteen was the day his parents could forget about ethics and do whatever they wanted to permanently alter his body, and that’s what they did. It was basically a vivisection day but so much more.

Danny was kept awake and aware the entire time, and Nate helped with a lot, passing tools to his parents, drawing with a sterile marker where the incision lines were going to be, placing the rubber gag in his brothers mouth to prevent him from hurting himself.

They put a hot brand on his right shoulder blade that read:

PROPERTY OF FENTONWORKS #01|0352|026

They inked into the left of his skull and one of his right ribs ‘PROPERTY OF FENTONWORKS’. They implanted a small device right next to his heart connected to a remote that only Jack, Maddie or Nate could activate, which would inject a solution into his bloodstream that would paralyze or kill him for emergencies.

Jazz could very faintly hear her adopted brothers screams from the kitchen.

Another four years later and it’s Nate who’s leading the operation, with his parents assisting. His gloves covered in his brothers ecto-blood, speaking his observations into the recording device in his dad’s hand.

#Danny Phantom #writing #writing prompt #Danny Phantom writing prompt #DP #writing idea #dp writing #fic #fic prompt #fic idea #DP fic #DP fic prompt #DP writing #DP writing prompt #AnAnMo’s DP writing ideas #danny fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #Lab rat #long #dissec #branding #fenton oc

[blahblahblees]

maybe lab rats bionic island chase x reader in which chase trains reader at the academy and over time they spend more time together training and start to fall for one another? (reader is in the red category) thank you!

ヽ｀、☁ヽ｀─── kiwi ミ chase davenport

✎ ·˚ ༘ ─── passionate about being the best and proving herself, chase davenport helps her train even more and falls for her in the process.

wc: 714

chase davenport x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns)

tw: kissing (?)

a/n: ngl i had to do some research 😔 but to add, this prompt didn’t have any preferred pronouns used… in the future if it’s not stated if it’s a fem or masc reader i’ll use they/them pronouns :) in this case she/her is used

molecularkinesis — to have limited control of physical forces and to move and otherwise interact with objects and people of a certain number, size, speed and weight without physical contact and from a distance

THE DAVENPORT Bionic Academy had seen success in the few months that it’d been opened. Mr. Davenport had seen great progress with several of the students with the help of Adam (surprisingly), Bree, Chase, and Leo (another surprise). These students would soon follow in the lead of the siblings and help save the world with training they had received.

But one students wanted nothing more than to be the best. To prove herself. She wanted to be the one who stepped out of this academy with great success. She wanted Mr. Davenport to see her a someone worthy of being sent out on missions and coming back as successful.

Which is why she trained for days. She would train herself with the lessons prior and ranked up to be label in the red category. She was practically at the top of the leaderboard and she wasn’t going to let that slip from her fingers.

She would take the lessons she learned from Adam, Bree, Chase, and Leo, and continued to train without their guidance.

But one day, Chase happened to make his rounds around the academy and saw her training by herself, using her bionic against no one else but the practice dummies they continuously had sent out to them.

“What are you doing?” Chase called.

She turned quickly, sweat dripping down her skin as she faced him.

“Practicing.” She answered quickly.

Chase stepped further into the room, placing his tablet on a nearby ottoman and grabbed her hands and kicked her feet apart.

“When sparring, you never want them to know your next move.” He said, adjusting her hands. “Don’t be afraid to use your molecularkinesis. It’s a powerful thing that not many bionics have.”

She sighed, shaking her hands from Chase’s grasp.

“I’ve never used it before.”

Chase nodded. “Then we’ll practice, you and I.”

AND OVER time Chase found himself training her more than Adam, Bree, and Leo and that’s because he wanted to spend time with her.

She seemed timid, but confident in her own skills. And she was a great fighting. She had the agility and strength that most of the others had gain with the help of others, but she had it come to her naturally.

She was a great sparing partner and the flexibility that made for great combat. She could find herself becoming a leader like himself in no time.

But he didn’t really want that.

I mean, he did want that for her. She wanted that for herself. Time and time again, she proved to herself and the others around that she had the ability to be a leader… but becoming a leader meant that she didn’t really need the training anymore.

But Chase would push that aside when it came down to actually training with her overtime. His focus would be on her and her only.

“Remember what I said.” Chase said. “Never let them know your next move.”

She nodded, holding the staff the two of them weee using for today and took her position. She took in one last deep breath and stepped forward, the two of them now sparring.

She was able to sideswipe him with her staff. She stepped forward, jabbing the staff towards his as he swiftly dodged her shots.

He was able to tuck and roll his way around her, but as he began to stand, his back had been turned towards her.

She took the opportunity to take her staff and use it to knock the boy back down towards the ground.

Chase rolled over on his back, his hands up. “Good job.” He smiled.

She returned the small smile and held his hand out for her to grab.

He took hers in his swiftly, but used that as an opportunity to pull her down towards the ground, rolling the two of them over. Chase now laying on top of her.

“Never let them know your next move.” He muttered.

They were both breathing heavily, adrenaline still pumping through their veins from the mock fight. But as Chase looked down at her, his eyes intense.

Without a word, Chase leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a gentle, tentative kiss at first, but as he pulled back, he started to apologize for his actions.

But before he could finish his sentence, she broke leaned up and pressing her lips to his once again. This time, the kiss was more confident and intense, as though she was trying to prove a point.

As they finally pulled away, both of them were breathing heavily.

"You don't have to be sorry.” She smiled.

Chase smiled back at her, relief flooding through him.

You never let them know your next move.

— lucy has something to say !!

i like this i think :)

but regardless, my requested are opened!

you should check out my rules and such before requesting and check out my masterlist to see who i write for!

#chase davenport imagines #chase davenport blurbs #chase davenport x reader #chase davenport #chase davenport x fem!reader #chase davenport lab rats #lab rats elite force imagines #lab rats elite force #lab rats bionic island #lab rats #lab rats x reader #lab rats imagines #imagines #writing #blurbs #wips #disney channel #disney #disney xd #disney channel imagines #disney xd imagines #disney channel x reader

[lamamasjamas]

A/n: I love bears. You cooked, you ate down, you are phenomenal. I love when things are sciencey and kinky at the same time.

Warnings: Smut stuff, fetish fanfic/read the tags, lots of story for some reason, (It's like I was thinking about this for a long time or sm crazy like that...), Miggy gains a shit ton of weight, and Peter is fruity

"Ursus Americanus... bitch..."

Lyla was matching Miguel's energy. She had a bottle of beer in her hand and was "sipping" it as they both sat in the lab in thought. She could have laughed at the way his head perked up and his eyes widened.

He liked the idea. Lyla wasn't sure he got the joke.

The American Black Bear, one of three bears that roamed the United States and parts of North America. It could climb with its sharp claws, just like Miguel, and it was strong as all hell, just like Miguel.

He was very drunk, as drunk as he could be with his extraordinary metabolic abilities.

"Yeah..." he mutters. He didn't think it through, as much as Lyla enjoys watching him make a fool of himself, she had half a programmed mind to tell him that the two points of similarity were not enough to justify the need to combine his DNA temporarily through an injection in order to stave off the probability of him growing extra limbs and pedipalps.

The suppressant was first tested by December. He was meticulous in choosing which gene sequences to add into the suppressor but... he got too lazy after a while. It was a mammal, omnivore, big and strong like he was.

What could go wrong?

Nothing did... for the first half of the year. He felt great, a little hairier than usual, which prompted compliments from you, a fellow lab rat that usually came in to work at the same times he did.

He always made sure to style his hair, showing off its sudden volumity. He loved when you ran your fingers through it while in the back of his mind, he was itching to ask you out.

Miguel never thought he would though, too afraid of bringing you down with him in his self-pity and depression. But that was before and now he felt amazing, he felt stronger, he was confident again.

By Summer he really started liking your attention, to an obsessive degree, a weird degree. He asked you out, finally getting the ball rolling from always being stuck in an endless loop of will they won't they.

Lyla had teased him about it being mating season, that the hormones were giving him a push to get down and dirty. Miguel thought that was bullshit. He just liked the way your skin glowed in the sun, or how your pussy tasted after you both had ice cream during your date.

Or how your panties smelled so good, especially after they were worn for the day-

He called extreme bullshit, even then. Miguel was in denial of the instincts his new body developed due to the change of seasons.

...

"Hyperphagia."

"...What?"

"It's fall-"

"So?"

"..."

The lab was covered in food wrappers and containers. The trash bin by the side filled to the brim with scraps, most of them licked and cleaned off of any food.

Lyla was watching him carefully, not saying a word when he had wandered outside of his lab at HQ to check up on things only to find himself in front of the cook, ordering a few too many items that was allowed for the other spiders because 'he was the boss, and it was a one-time thing'.

He was bulking. He liked to think he was bulking up muscle but... anyone can see the way it all went to his thighs, that his waist wasn't as narrow as before. His shoulders were softer. At first that had given him the appearance of "bulking" but after a while, when the slight double chin didn't disappear no matter how much he attempted to stretch his neck... it was apparent that he was gaining something other than muscle.

It was concerning. You were definitely... concerned.

It was certainly concerning when his belly was the first thing to make contact with you when you hugged, or when the three main activities anyone would see him do nowadays would be sitting, watching the monitors and sleeping. The latter two always being accompanied with the combination of eating something hearty and caloric.

It should have been worrying when he first started his daily bloats. He'd stuff himself with food so bad he was in a mood until he either digested the contents in his stomach or let some of the gas out in short or long belches, only to go to bed directly afterwards.

The sex was still good, sometimes even better from how well his mouth worked you over. It was a relief that he didn't seem to be insecure about his new state, but it was strange to see him be so ignorant of it.

Sometimes he'd roll in bed, his arms would wrap around either you or the pillow, what's closest to him at the time, and he'd squeeze it close. It would wake you up from how smothered you felt, the temperature suddenly rising between you both as his bulk was half on top of you.

The cuddling was fine, you liked the affection but when he was practically making your chest collapse from how heavy he was, you almost always had to slap his, now wobbling, wide back in order to take a full breath in.

You were alarmed, perturbed, troubled. It was bothering you how much he didn't seem to care. You sat on his desk, now cleared of his papers, as well as leftover food he had to spare, so that you and his assistant could have an intervention.

He glared at both of you, sitting in a tiny office chair you knew he didn't have before. You glance at it, narrowing your eyes and lifting a brow in question. Miguel just avoids your gaze.

He's been getting tired lately, more frequently and sporadically it seemed. It wasn't normal. Miguel was starting to sleep earlier and earlier in the day, as well as wake up later. If anything he should be well rested for the day but every two minutes his jaws would unhinge for a deep yawn.

Lyla starts again, bringing up a holographic image of a black bear and clasping her hands together as if she were explaining something to a child.

"Hyperphagia is a disorder that increases appetite."

Miguel stares as the image of the bear changes between various sizes, the season was spelled out at the top to show the change in time. You watch intently with him.

"See how it gets bigger-"

Lyla glances at you from the corner of her eye, seeing you wince at her use of the term big. It was a heavy word, now used to an excessive amount around Miguel.

Peter loved to joke, not in a hurtful way, you just knew Miguel was sensitive to certain things. He referred to Miguel as big guy sometimes, he was the boss, he sent people on mission and his stature alone was in line with the definition of big.

But the word has been thrown around more frequently lately, often earning Peter or anyone to use the phrase a shake of Jessica's head and stifled laughter from the younger spiders.

It had gotten to the point in which almost everyone was calling him the big boss. It was irritating to him but irritating to you for a different reason.

Only you were allowed to call him big. If anyone else, Lyla. And you hated the way they didn't mean it in an affectionate way, in a loving way like you did.

Lyla clears her throat and continues; she has a tone of finality.

"You're putting on weight to hibernate, but you're not hibernating. You’re metabolism is slowing and if you keep this up you’re going to be double your current size by January."

The room was silent, then his stomach growls. He sits with his hands clasped over his grumbling stomach. He wasn't listening, he was already rolling his eyes and scoffing.

Then, it was like his snout twitched, directing his attention to the entrance of the laboratory.

His head turned so quickly away from you both that his cheeks jiggled. His body recoiled as he first attempted to stand. His hips dug into the arms of the chair, and as he stood it lifted off the ground slightly.

Your glare penetrated Peter's soul. He almost cowered if not for the way Miguel blocked you entirely, his bulky body waddling over to him to reach for the bag of two burgers and three trays of fries.

Miguel doesn't look at him, instead his gaze is entirely focused on the scent of grease emanating from the brown paper bag. He's noted that the more calories and more fat he consumes, the better he feels.

The unhealthier he can eat, the better. It was like dealing with a child at times. He'd refuse to eat his vegetables, making the excuse that he had already filled up with steak and potatoes, only to be sitting on the couch with his hand shoved down a bag of family sized chips.

Peter claps Miguel's shoulder, his fingers dig into the meat of it and squeezes. Peter avoids your gaze, the way you cross your arms and spit out his name in irritated greeting.

"I'm the delivery boy now, I guess..." Peter's voice lilts off into discomfort and awkwardness.

"Like a cheesy porno," you sharply respond. Miguel chuckles and sits down heavily, the platform wobbling and shaking as his ass met the plush seat.

Peter swallows thickly, he watches as Miguel finishes the first burger in two bites. Miguel pushes two fingers in his mouth, covered in grease and sauce.

His lips wrap around his fingers, and he sucks, his tongue swirls between them and he closes his eyes in bliss. Peter's gaze was on the way his fingers disappeared in and out of his mouth in repetition.

His body shook in a chill at the sound of Miguel's deep satisfied moan. Blood was starting to rush south, and his stomach was curling at the sight of Miguel's hand cradling the side of his gut as he downed a large soda.

"Oh god..."

Lyla had been informing you of Peter's sudden frequent appearances. Miguel was oblivious to it, Peter had always been nice, to an annoying degree, and his mind was mostly clouded in hunger anyway. If someone was willing to get food for him, he wasn't going to complain.

It was innocent, purely sexual. So Lyla says. Miguel had no idea though, which then prompted you to wave the situation off. Seeing it happen in front of your eyes, Peter attempting to hide the way he was drooling over your fat lard of a boyfriend and helping him become even larger was... daunting.

Your eyes landed on his hard on, peaking through his sweats. Peter’s eyes lifted to yours and he froze. You weren't angry, surprisingly. But there was a hint of determination in your eyes that he knew meant things were going to get complicated for him.

Your hand went up to caress Miguel's scalp, your body leaning over him to kiss his cheek. He leans into the touch and hums, seemingly forgetting that other people were in the room with him.

"Gonna go make dinner, ok?" you say sweetly, your mouth still pressing against his skin as you whisper to him intimately.

His stomach growls at the thought of your cooking alone. He tilts his chin up as you continue to massage the back of his head. His body slumps further into the back of the chair, his manboobs pressing further up his chest atop his swollen stomach.

Peter stands awkwardly. But he stays put. You imagine he was going to stay a while and watch, maybe even bring back some more food for Miguel to consume.

"It's early..." Miguel responds, his brow arching as he stuffs a hand full of fries down his throat. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stifles a burp.

You glance up at Peter, your eyes narrowing the second you noticed his cock twitch at the sounds of Miguel chewing and swallowing.

"Making something special tonight, big guy."

You wipe Miguel's mouth clean before leaning in for a kiss. He merely purses his lips in order to reciprocate, his eyes gleaming at the possibilities of the evening.

You nod at Peter with a sharp look as you leave, ignoring Lyla's disappointed shake of her head as you walk out of HQ.

Seems like the intervention was for nothing.

---------------------

A/n: Where is this going you may ask? I have no idea... I like playing around with the idea that people get into kinks for different reasons. Sometimes your girlfriend starts feeding you more because she's trying to compete with your work husband.

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara fanfic #Tw: wg #sorry had to repost it cus the tags weren’t working the first time ❤️

[causeitsagame]

SECOND/FOLLOWUP PROMPT. In case of capture, the former Remnants would be questioned about where Izuru is and where the rest of the remnants are, which of course, no one wants to reveal. Fuyuhiko lets himself get captured, because a) his pain tolerance is super high, b) he's been trained to deal with torture, c) Hajime is not being made into a lab rat AGAIN and Fuyuhiko needs to make sure of that, even if it means a world of pain. Angsty mood today! Have fun at the gardens! -xoxo hajihiko

(Torture warning, etc etc. NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED IT FROM THE PROMPT)

"Put his hand flat on the table."

Unimpressed, Fuyuhiko spread his hand flat before any of the special operatives in the interrogation chamber could force the matter. "Are we doing something with the fingernails, or lopping pieces off?"

For an answer, the officer overseeing matters lifted a broad, heavy knife.

"Sure thing," Fuyuhiko said. "Hey, Knife. Mind if I ask a favor?"

Knife grimaced at the nickname. "You've got some nerve, Remnant, to dare to ask for any mercy after what you've done to the world."

"No mercy. I'm just hoping that you can start here," Fuyuhiko said, and swapped which hand was on the table. He wiggled the new hand's pinky. "See the scar, there?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"I had that cut done when I was little. It showed me what I might be ordering on some asshole who let me down, y'know?" In the silence, Fuyuhiko wiggled the finger again and continued, "It feels like a half-finished job. So, mind starting there?"

Knife looked at his companions with a flat, irritated expression.

"It probably doesn't make much sense to start with something he's been trained to tolerate since childhood," mused Red, and ran a hand through his messy copper hair.

"Fuck it, let's do the fingernails," sighed Stain, who must have been in a rush eating lunch.

"Whatever," Fuyuhiko said airily, and met and held Knife's gaze. "You getting started any time soon, or what?"

"The man knows what he wants," Knife calmly replied, and put away his knife in a locked case. When he returned, his hands instead held thin but wickedly sharp bamboo skewers and a rubber mallet.

Well, this was gonna fuckin' suck.

"I see you understand what's about to happen to you," Knife said in the same smooth, level tones. "I want to see if you understand how it can be avoided."

Fuyuhiko held his gaze. "You'd better remind me."

"We brought down your aircraft after it attacked one of our vessels. We didn't have piloting skills or missile targeting in your dossier, suggesting that it was on autopilot."

"Yeah," Fuyuhiko freely admitted. This wasn't anything he needed to hide, and maybe they'd think twice about going after the others. "Kazuichi had a hell of a program in that thing. It was fun to watch it work."

"And while you were holding our attention, the rest of the Remnants vanished. Where?"

"You said it yourself: I'm holding your attention, dumbfucks." Fuyuhiko grinned lopsidedly. His head already felt fuzzy and distant as he prepared himself for the agony to come. "Why would I tell you where they went, now?"

He didn't actually know where his friends had gone, but it was best if these assholes thought he did. There'd be more pain, that way.

"Very well," Knife said, and motioned for his companions to hold Fuyuhiko in place. "Just remember: you know how to make this stop at any time."

Nodding, Fuyuhiko tensed his core muscles in anticipation. They'd really have to work to get screams out of him. As the first skewer was lifted, he pictured sobbing faces on Jabberwock pleading for him not to go. The mallet struck, and the memory exploded into raw agony and loud, screeching static.

Fuyuhiko gritted his teeth and threw back his head as black-and-white nothing scoured through him. All thought cut out momentarily like a broken television channel. But he hadn't screamed.

Knife waited a few seconds longer, nodded, and reached for the second skewer.

This time, Fuyuhiko pictured Sonia. She actually knew how to operate heavy machinery, she'd argued. She might be able to put up more of a fight before they caught her. But she wasn't trained for what came after, not like him. That was so inarguable that it'd stopped her in her tracks, and soft, frustrated crying served as her good-bye.

The mallet struck again, and Sonia also exploded into static.

Ten fingers equaled ten memories to hold onto before the mallet hit. As Fuyuhiko was thrown physically into his holding cell, having to catch himself with bleeding, raw fingertips, he was proud of himself for not mentioning a single one of those memories to the interrogators. The hardest part was over, now.

Three hours into sleep, a jolt of music woke him. Whatever godawful song they'd picked, the volume was loud enough to thrum through the metal walls and flooring like an approaching earthquake. Sleep deprivation. A classic, and not a bad technique to try against most people.

But most people hadn't dealt with Ibuki Mioda's discography for years on end.

Fuyuhiko moved his pillow so it looked like he was trying to block the noise. In actuality, he wanted to hide his face. On future nights, they'd surely crank the volume to a level that even he couldn't tolerate, but for now, he wanted to hide the fact that he could still sleep.

The next day brought electricity. "Not very good at this, are you?" Fuyuhiko coughed after Stain slammed a fist against his chest, and he felt his heart's irregular rhythm steady out. "Don't get it that close to my heart, dumbass."

"Noted. You're the torture expert, after all," Knife levelly agreed.

"Huh. Yeah, you guys aren't supposed to do this kinda stuff, are ya?" Fuyuhiko wondered. His smile up at Knife was knowing, hungry. "Or is that what 'good' does, now?"

Knife's hand flexed around the sparking wire it held. "Officially, you should be put on trial. But unofficially, we shot your plane down and killed you. You have zero advocates who will argue otherwise, and an entire planet full of people who won't care what we had to do to find the rest of the Remnants. Talk."

"I'm not gonna be able to talk if you stop my heart again."

"True," Knife airily agreed, and gestured at one of Fuyuhiko's mangled hands. Red obligingly poured water over the raw, bloody tips, and left enough on the table to form a small puddle under them. "We'll keep the flow well away from your chest, now."

This was gonna fuckin' suck, too.

Fuyuhiko clenched his jaw as he remembered Peko grimly accepting his plan. She'd been the one who held onto Hajime, and kept him from coming after the plane. While Hajime could easily have thrown her off, seeing Peko of all people accepting Fuyuhiko's imminent capture and torture broke through his outrage. This is how it has to be, Peko's agonized expression said. Respect his decision. He's made it. He understands.

The wire touched his mutilated flesh, and memory again exploded into agonized static.

After a week of pain, it was time for another conversation. "You don't have to tell us right where the other Remnants went," Knife said in a disturbingly friendly voice. "If you can point out some past hideouts they might use, we can send people to look for clues. Why not think about that as option? You wouldn't be selling them out, but we'd count that as cooperation."

"...Catacombs beneath Paris," Fuyuhiko said with feigned reluctance. That meant nothing to them, now, but Mikan and Gundham had used them like a biohazard stockpile before three generations of deliberately infected vermin exploded onto the city streets. There'd be all sorts of evidence for these assholes to dig through, and ideally, some leftover rats to gnaw on them while they did.

(And more importantly, there was absolutely no way the Remnants had fled to Paris.)

Four days later, Fuyuhiko awoke to Knife backhanding him. "Not Paris," Knife said. His eyes glinted in the darkness. "Give us a better suggestion."

Fuck. Fuyuhiko should have been awake for that. That jolt of pain was a missed opportunity. "Can't seem to remember anywhere else," he said, and wiped away blood from the lip Knife had split. "You'll have to help me remember."

"…Very well."

And so the pain began again. What memories Fuyuhiko had of love and friendship exploded into agonized static, over and over and over.

But each night when they threw his increasingly battered form back into his cell, Fuyuhiko smiled. He'd done it. He'd held their attention. And since they hadn't broken him right at the beginning, that meant that he'd won.

When he was younger, his father had taught him a very useful technique. It was one thing to simply suppress knowledge, his father explained. With tremendous pain tolerance, as men like them must develop, even the most valuable knowledge could be protected until help arrived.

What if help would not arrive in time, though? What if the knowledge would cause great harm if it could actually be carved out of them and handed to their enemies? Then, Fuyuhiko's father explained, they must go a step further. They must turn their enemies' own attempts at torture against them.

With tremendous self-control and dedicated practice, sufficient amounts of pain could be used to rewire memories. His father explained that when he'd been tortured, he pictured the shifting glint of sunlight on their backyard pond. So much pain running through him took his mind to its absolute capacity. Picturing something else—instead of the demanded information—let his brain latch onto that replacement image, instead.

Instead of pushing the memories down into some hidden safebox, enough pain could be used to scour them clean. It took enormous practice with controlling one's thoughts, and even more with suppressing pain, but dangerous knowledge could be treated like mere tinder: set alight. Abandoned. Destroyed.

Fuyuhiko had tried picturing sunlight on water, as his father had, but that hadn't worked for him. He'd found success with picturing television static, instead. And now, each time Knife and his crew tried to torture him, they were helping him to burn away another memory that was too dangerous to hold onto.

Staring up at the ceiling, Fuyuhiko did wonder where all those people had gone. It was good that he didn't know. They'd stay safe, this way.

He didn't remember much about the group, any more.

But he must have really cared about them.

#Anonymous #my fic #fic prompts

[charlesoberonn]

It's time for a new world poll on my collaborative world building Discord server!

(art by @gentsma-art)

Every week, we vote on a prompt and then build a new fictional world based on that prompt. You can vote on next week's prompt right now!

🧻A world of craft-based creatures. Paper creatures, clay creatures, pipe-cleaners, etc. Who made these creatures? What is their life like? What will happen once they're introduced to elements like fire and water which completely change how they interact with their world? 🤖A non-violent AI takeover. One day, the machines take charge of the world. But these aren't human-hating homicidal killers. Rather, they're quite alien to human understanding, and it's not clear why they keep us around. What kind of machines are they? How will humanity adapt? 👻A world with no permanent bodies. Every being in this world can swap bodies by possessing them. How does the body changing work? How will it affect the way these people perceive things like identity and property? What is society like when people can live forever? 🚀A generation ship has been travelling to a distant planet for a very long time. But when they arrive, they discover that humans have already colonized that planet in their absence. How will society change on board the ship? How will they adapt to the harsh realities of space? How will they react to their late arrival? 🐁Humanity went extinct and a population of lab rats in a specific lab become sapient. How will the lab rats survive and thrive in a world full of dangers and predators? How will they perceive their human predecessors? How will their society develop with access to the technology of the past?

Come join us!

[moon-sang]

Could you add a little more to your 3AM prompt? I feel like it could be a gooooood one shot! :)

36 Days

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Ok, you guys win, I’ll write my idea :>

Please tell me if there are any gender indications, so. I can change it to gender neutral

SUMMARY: You and Mando have a huge fight. (Happy ending)

WARNINGS: Fighting, angst, nightmares, mature language, pls tell me if I miss anything!

~~~~~~~~~

How did this start again?

Oh that’s right! You had walked outside of the Crest for the first time in exactly 5 weeks, 4 hours, 19 minutes, and 6 seconds.

And Din had the nerve to tell you off about it!

The story was Gideon had managed to get his hands on you when you were a few years old. From there you had been his lab rat up until the age of 20, that’s when Mando rescued you, and brought you along on his ship with his tiny green son.

You were forever grateful that he let you stay with him, but at the same time you were slowly losing your sanity, piece by piece. Exactly 36 days of being trapped in a dull silver cold ship, with a baby…how did Din not see it?! The frustrations!

Whenever you brought it up he would always turn you down by saying

“There are millions of bounty hunters and imperials looking for you, I can’t protect you as well as I protect the kid, keeping you out of sight is just a safety precaution.”

Fair enough…

BUT 36 DAYS

You weren’t even allowed to open any windows for kriffing sake!

~~~~~~~~ “You were reckless.” Scowled Din, fists clenched tightly by his side.

“No! I was tired of being trapped in this ship! 36 days, Din! 36 days since I last felt the sun!” You exclaimed.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I am NOT! You might as well send me back to Gideon! I was more free even with him!” You yell, voice turning hoarse.

Din seemed to be taken back by your statement, because he is silent for a moment. “You wanna go back to Gideon? Be my guest, I’ll drop you off right now if you want me to, it’ll be easier on me, without you here.” He says in the most intimidating voice you’ve ever heard.

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes and he’s about to say something, perhaps and apology for his harsh words, but he doesn’t get a chance to, because your shoving past him, and making your way out of the cockpit.

Din doesn’t follow, he crossed the line and now he just needed to give you some space.

He had regretted the words the moment they came out, but he couldn’t stop them from toppling off of his tongue, pure anger and venom overriding any of his common sense.

~~~~~~~~

You cried for what seemed like hours in Din’s your cot. 

It wasn’t just from the fear of Din’s words being true, but from the fight itself. Everything just got so overwhelming, especially with Din being so tall and just- intimidating! 

An ugly, heavy sob wracked your body as you tried to curl up impossibly tighter on yourself. 

Eventually you felt the familiar pull of your eyelids, and the haze of your tired mind. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, with old tears falling onto the dense pillow. 

~~~~~~~~

“You have made the right choice Din Djarin.” Gideon’s voice booms through what you could only assume was a imperial cell. 

Gideon had his familiar victory smile etched into his face, whilst Din stood beside him watching you struggle against your cuffs. 

“Din? What’s going on?” You croak out. 

Gideon let’s out a sinister laugh

“You wanted to come back, right?” Din says, followed by a dry chuckle. 

Tears stream down your face, as you strain against your chains. “Din! Please don’t do this, I’m sorry!” You scream in broken sobs. 

Din says nothing as he turns away from you, and begins his decent to the Razor Crest in the distance. 

“Din!” You scream as loud as you can, hoping the desperation in your voice would magically change his mind. 

Gideon smirked once more. 

“Din!” You yell again, but to no avail. 

Distantly you knew you were having a nightmare, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to wake up. 

So you settle for screaming for Din, because right now, it’s the only thing you can do. 

~~~~~~~~

Suddenly you felt hands tug at your waist, and your dream shifted, eventually disappearing into thin air, as you were welcomed back to your reality, in the Razor Crest, alone, crying in Din’s bunk, covered in your own sweat. 

Usually Din would comfort you right about now. But he wouldn’t do that now, not after fighting. Maker you would be lucky if he ever spoke to you again! 

An unexpected sob rips through your body, leaving you quivering against the wall. You could distinctly hear something hushing you gently, but you had to remind yourself that you were alone...and probably just paranoid from the nightmare. 

That is until you hear it again. 

“Din?” You sob out, hands travelling up his breastplate to confirm it’s really him. 

“Shh, I’m here, meshurok.” 

Just hearing him speak makes you cry even harder, which seemed impossible for you. 

As the tears began to flow more freely your sobs became harder, until you were gasping for air. Din held you through it all, rocking you gently, bodies swaying together. “I-I’m so-sorry” You cough up, gripping his cowl tightly between your sweaty palms, trying to ground yourself. “I’m so-so sor-sorry.” You whimper. Din hushes you quickly, running his hands through your hair. “It’s ok ner’karta, relax.” 

~~

You don’t remember much of that night, you can’t remember how many hours Din held you securely against his chest, strong arms keeping you safe, and close to him, but it opened up a new path for the two of you. One where you wouldn’t lose your tempers and actually try to understand each other. 

~~~~~~

You followed Din over to the hatch, ready to wave him off for yet another hunt. 

You had come to terms with staying on the ship

Din couldn’t lose you. 

Which is why.. you couldn’t understand why Din handed you an oversized cloak and said;

“No, Mesh’la, we’re going to go out”

Din had never seen you smile so brightly in his whole life. 

#Din Djarin x reader #Mando x reader #Din x reader #Mando angst #Din Djarin angst #The Mandalorian x reader #Din Djarin x you #Din x you #Mando x you

[shywhumpauthor]

Masterpost

<<Please read before requesting>>

I accept requests for drabbles, snippets, prompt lists, asks regarding my series, pretty much anything—given that the topic of the request is within my comfort zone

Art sideblog: @charcoalsketches

Spam sideblog: @coal-commits-arson

(I will try to keep this updated to current)

Writing Challenges

The Merry Whump of May 2022

Summer of Whump 2022

Whumptober 2022

Whumpuary 2023

The Merry Whump of May 2023

Two Weeks of Whump 2023

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Prompts

Plushie Whump // Defiant Lab Whump // Desert Whump // Mute Whumpers~Caretakers // Shivering // Doctor Whumpers // Comfort Plushies // Healing Powers // Betrayed by Team // Humane Whumpers // Bath Time With Trauma // Short Betrayal Thing // Mean Caretaker // Lab Rat Whumpee = Lonely // Some Dialogue // Whumpers Who Get Carried Away // Rating Whump Locations // Experiment Prompt List // How Whumpee Meets Caretaker Prompt List // Mock Executions // Captured Prince Prompt List // Teammate Caretaker x Leader Whumpee // Belts as Restraints // Recovery Center List // Doghouse // Feral Whumpee Recovery // Torture Idea // Both Caretaker and Whumpee are Captives // Ribbons (Short Snippet) // Safety in Restraints // Two Beds // Caretaker is New Master // Brutal Whump Idea // Bleeding Ungrateful // Old Wounds // Tally // Injured Back // Tied to a Table // Driver // Redeemed Villain Captured With Team // Gentle Pet Whump // Ear Pains // Hero Being Manipulated Snippet // Signs of Whump // Morgue Prompt // Cold in Captivity // Sharp Teeth Supernatural Whumpee // Broken Whumpees and Regret // Possessive Whumpers // Tucked in // Auction Prep // Emergency Contact // Marbles // Familiar Whumpee and Whumper // Sunburn +Whipping // Overworked // Branded Handprints //

Other Prompts

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // 18 // 19 // 20 // 21 // 22 // 23 // 24 // 25 // 26 // 27 //

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Drabble Masterpost

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Series

The Prince of a Bloodstained Game (completed)

My first ever series, made a while ago. Royal Whumper Leonidas, spy Whumpee who was sent to kill him Harlow. My advice, just don't. Don't go there. I haven't looked back. Who knows what horrors await in my old writing

A Drop Of Honey

Probably my most consistent series tbh, ongoing for months. I only work on it when requested. Bitch Whumpee called Bee, no other characters are worthy of names. We've got Friend and Whumper, that's it

Red Stained Riches

(Whumptober 2022) Kaden shouldn't have gone to the party. Rich creepy whumper named Mathias. Ongoing.

Surveillence

Whumpuary 2022. Ignore how the first 12 parts are nameless, I’m slowly going back to fix it. Noah is a spy, and hell is he in over his head

Landline

Coriander took a turn a bit too fast during a storm, and they ended up on the wrong person’s doorstep.

To the Victor the Spoils

A choose-your-own-adventure, interactive whump series

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My Old Writing Masterlist

In my most professional opinion, just stay away.

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#this took way too long #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal’s masterlist #whump prompt #whump prompts #writing prompt #writing prompts #masterlist #whump masterlist #whump masterpost #whumpee #whumper #whump stuff #whump series #whump blog #whump ideas