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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 months

Note

🥄 Force-feeding for Ryan or Danny please

CW: Not-exactly-human whumpee, iron burns, mouth whump, intimate/creepy whumper, dehumanization

Every bite burns.

His palms press into the uneven old floor, fingers scraping along the stained, ancient tile. He has to lower himself down, lapping up the broth with his tongue, holding back a whimper as it tingles, burns, throbs. His gums ache, his teeth hurt, as he forces himself to chew a bit of beef, swallowing only with effort.

Ryan closes his eyes against the sting of tears.

"Good," Abraham says, voice low and husky. "Again."

He swallows, tasting iron and copper. The corners of his mouth are torn and bleeding, his lips roughly chapped. As the liquid coats his mouth, the skin pulls apart, reopening tender spots that had only just begun to heal. Blood mixes with the seasoning.

Tastebuds slough away as the iron Abraham has mixed into the stew moves over his tongue, leaving tender, unready tissue to burn ever deeper.

He has to take another bite.

Ryan forces himself to lean down, trying to focus on the burn of the muscles in his arms as they stretch to hold his weight, and laps up a little cooked carrot.

His mouth flashes in terrible pain.

He coughs, fighting the urge to spit it out, feeling the weight of Abraham's eyes on him. Ryan and Danny kneel side by side on the floor, and Ryan doesn't dare look at his brother.

Not because of what Abraham might do.

But because he's not sure if he looks into Danny's eyes, that there will be anything there in the blue eyes that look back. Sometimes, Danny just... isn't there, anymore.

Ryan isn't convinced he will always come back.

Ryan breathes, saltwater dripping into the stew. The iron in it burns all the way down his throat. A bright, hot ache grows in his chest and even down to his stomach.

There's only a few bites left.

He can't do this.

"Please," He whispers. "Please, I can't."

"Of course you can," Abraham coos, syrupy-sweet, leaning over to run his fingers through Ryan's tangled hair, scratching along his scalp. It sends goosebumps up and down Ryan's arms, and he fights the urge to jerk backwards.

Never pull away from Abraham's touch.

"You said you were hungry," Abraham continues, falsely sympathetic, petting Ryan like a frightened dog. White hair falls against his cheek as he looks down. "Didn't you? So finish your food, Faerie Boy. Neither of you gets up until it's gone."

"Nnn-" He catches himself.

Never say no.

Ryan groans instead of answering, staring down at what's left in the bowl. It's not that much-

It's too much.

It's so, so much.

It's going to hurt so much.

"Y-yes, Abraham," He whispers, because always answer Abraham, never hesitate when he speaks to you. The rules burn nearly as badly as the iron. The rules... and the fact that he knows every single one, now.

It's just a few more bites.

He can't do this-

He has to do this.

The iron collar around his throat burns on the outside, and every single bite burns all the way down within.

Abraham makes him lick up the blood that drips from his tongue, too.

#daniel michaelson's story #the bad arc #mouth whump #tongue whump #nonhuman whumpee #fae whumpee #fae whump #forced feeding #dehumanization tw #creepy whumper #captive whumpee #pet whump #whump

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cryptidwritings · 2 months

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Pocket

My first foray into tiny whump, because I was really inspired by this post and couldn't get the idea out of my head.

Content: accidental caretaker, caretaker new master, tiny whumpee, immortal whumpee, conditioned whumpee, abandonment, magical whumpee, nonmagical caretaker.

...

It was cold. Eight am was no reasonable time to be outside or among a crowd.

Emery stood with a cup of coffee in her hand and a pair of sunglasses on, huddled in her winter coat with four hundred dollars in cash clenched territorially in her pocket.

Hopefully she could get this storage unit for cheap. She couldn't throw a bunch of money around and, judging by the crowd and the cars they showed up in, they had more than twice what she did at their disposal. This was their job, and Emery was there only at the chance to rent the only open storage locker remotely close to her.

She was desperate, basically. The underpaid employee on the phone basically told her to try, but there wasn't a guarantee.

The auction began with a small unit. Dirty, barely anything in it. It went for ten bucks. Emery was cautiously optimistic. Maybe that was an omen to the crowd, but a green light for her. After all, she didn't care what was actually in the locker.

They approached. The unit was opened. Emery took a peak over the crowd on her tip-toes.

"Another garbage unit."

"Pretty sure I saw that same desk going for fifteen bucks. Been on the site three months."

The bidding began, and it went from five to twenty. Okay, no big deal. She put her hand up. Thirty. Then forty.

"Sold! For fifty five dollars. Make sure to pay at the desk."

Emery was shaking. What a rush. She ran to the office, warmer and way more awake.

"Sorry, it's already been signed for."

"What? But... I really need a locker."

"Sorry, dunno what to tell you."

Emery paid. "Is there any way-"

"No. Empty the locker by tomorrow or we'll have to charge you, okay?"

Fucking fantastic.

By the time she opened the locker, she had almost forgotten just how much stuff was actually in it.

The door slapped open with an echoing bang, and she stepped inside. She started with the big things up front. A desk and bedroom set. She took pictures and placed them for free with pickup.

She kept going, finally having cleared a path to the back where a large piece of furniture sat in the back corner, covered by a painters cloth. Emery pulled it down, gawking at a large, and really heavy, armoire.

It was the nicest piece in the unit, which had plenty of room for her things. Maybe she could sell it? Make some money to spend?

She began her investigation by looking at the back. The flashlight on her phone found nothing. Then she moved to the doors; outfitted with ornate brass pulls and hand carved vines encircling them. She pulled it open, assessing the doors and finding a little marks on the inside. Unreadable.

Emery turned on her flashlight again, this time turning it to the inside of the cabinet. It was full of little trinkets. Tiny ceramic animals, ballet figurines made of china, porcelain dolls that looked... expensive as fuck.

Then, in the very back of the bottom shelf, there was a glass box. It was the biggest thing in the cabinet; about eight inches long and six inches wide. She lift it from its spot, careful not to knock anything over. Maybe it was something rare. She took a look, surprised.

It was a charming miniature bedroom with a wooden bed and nightstand, complete with a crochet circular rug, a cozy chair, and a light hanging from the glass roof with wires that led through the base to a battery underneath. She turned it on, and that's when she spotted a little person with green hair lying in the bed, asleep.

It looked so real.

Especially when it... opened it's... eyes?

"What the fuck!" She almost dropped the thing, but caught it as a little scream came whistling out of the glass. She put it on a shelf that matched her height, and witnessed for herself the little thing... the little person, pushing themself off of the floor and fixing their upturned nightstand.

"Oh no. Oh no." Their voice was worried as they cleaned up quickly, glancing at Emery as she gaped at them.

"H-hello!" They said, nervously, still attending to the mess. "I'm s-sorry I scared you."

Emery didn't answer, too shocked. It was talking... to her.

The little thing looked at her again, giving her it's full attention. "I... I'm sorry... master didn't like my room to be messy... I... do you..." their face twisted and they began to cry. "I don't want to make you mad. P-please don't put me back in there!"

"Oh..." Emery snapped out of her stupor. "No. I... I'm sorry I just can't believe you're... alive?"

The thing... whatever it was... was still crying but put on a smile.

"Thank you! Yes. I-" it sniffed. "I didn't mean to scare you. M-my name is Pocket."

"Pocket?" Emery said. "What... are you?"

Pocket smiled, their cheeks turning rosy. "I'm a pixie!"

"A pixie." Emery relaxed back, realizing she had dropped her phone on the ground in all the excitement. She picked it up, groaning at the cracked screen glass. "Damn it, all."

"Are you upset, master?"

At that, Emery looked back up at... Pocket, whose rosy cheeks suddenly were sapped of color. Their emerald-green eyes flooded with tears again.

"Oh, no!" Emery reassured, holding up her phone. "I just cracked my phone. But it isn't your fault!"

They beamed at the reassurance but couldn't stop their tears. They hid their face behind their hands a moment, taking small breaths. When they removed their hands, it was as if they weren't crying at all, and their emerald eyes had turned a bright peridot.

"Oh good! I'm so glad you're not upset! I-"

"Hello?"

Emery turned to see a man at the entrance of the unit.

"Are you the one who asked about renting this locker?"

"Yeah, that's me. Am I taking too long?"

"No, not at all. The other tenant fell through, actually. Do you still need it?"

Emery's eyes widened. "Yes! Um, just give me one-" She glanced at pocket, who was already lying back in their bed, still as before. She blinked, suddenly feeling as if their interaction might have been a dream.

She turned back to the man. "Nevermind. I'll follow you."

#tiny whump #immortal whumpee #magical whumpee #conditioned whumpee #caretaker new master #accidental caretaker #whump snippet #oc pocket #pixie whumpee #(edit: i lost the link to the post! uh. i cant find it again.)#fae whumpee

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whumpsday · 9 months

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Annie's Prisoners

Writing Masterlist | G/t writing tag

g/t sideblog here! @smallsday

content: g/t, whump, tiny whump, fairy whumpee, begging, rescue, captivity, wing whump, magical exhaustion, bullying

Whumpmas in July Day 21: "Please" GT July Day 21: Secret

here's the last of the GT July "crossovers" i'm doing during WIJ! it was fun to write more tiny whump :)

"Okay, but you don't tell anyone."

Annie got down on the floor, pulling a pink plastic hamster cage out from under her bed.

Parisa could hardly believe what she was seeing. Inside the cage was what looked like a fairy, no more than four inches tall, cowering in the corner. He had wings, but they stopped abruptly about halfway through, leaving him with uneven little trapezoids.

The fairy didn't look pleased to see either of them, hiding himself as well as he could inside the plastic tube running up one wall of the cage- which wasn't very well at all, considering the tube was transparent.

Parisa knelt down on the carpet to see closer, star-struck. "What is this?"

"My fairy!" Annie boasted. "I caught him myself, he was drinking from the birdbath in the backyard! I just shot him with Calvin's Nerf gun and grabbed him while he was all dazed and stuff. Don't act surprised, it's not like you haven't insisted fairies were real since preschool."

Annie was right, Parisa had always been obsessed with fairies. Her notebooks were covered with fairy stickers, she'd spent her whole childhood playing Pixie Hollow, and she'd read book after book on faery mythology. A part of her had always believed that with so many different stories and accounts of them, fairies had to exist in some form, somewhere. Even as she got older and felt more and more that she was being silly, a small part of her always knew.

And she was right.

She would normally be jumping for joy, but... the fairy was obviously not as enamored with Annie's recollection of his capture. He teared up a little, hugging himself as he cringed as far away from them as possible, his severed wings tucked behind him.

Parisa frowned. "He looks kind of sad."

Annie waved away her concern. "He's always pouting. But I haven't even shown you the cool part. He can do magic and stuff!"

The fairy's head snapped up at that, a look of horror dawning on his face.

"But I already did a spell for you today!" Though it seemed like he was attempting to shout, his voice came out tinny and quiet, just as small as he was.

"You can do another for Rissie," Annie said firmly. "But yeah, seriously, you can't tell anyone. Can you imagine? Some government prick would totally take him away from me to experiment on him or whatever, like in the movies."

"Do your parents know?" Parisa asked.

"Oh god no. But I'm taking him to college with me in September, so I won't have to worry about that anymore." Annie sat cross-legged, picking the cage up and moving it into her lap to rest her arms on. The fairy grimaced as she began drumming her fingers absentmindedly on the lid.

"I've had him for almost two months now. I would've shown you sooner, but I wanted to wait until after graduation so you couldn't tell anyone at school. It's not like you talk to anyone besides me anyway, but can't be too careful. But Ciel can change that!"

She held the cage up triumphantly. "I knew you'd be totally helpless without me since we're going to different schools, so I wanted to make sure you were aaaaall set. He can't do like, big things, he's not a genie. But he can do little things. Like make you a little luckier for a while, stuff like that. I use it for studying, too. But I figured he could do a charisma spell on you or something, and it'd help you make new friends at your little state school!"

"I can't do another spell yet, please, I already did one! I don't have enough magic left," Ciel pleaded, looking up at Annie as his tears started to fall. "You said college isn't something that starts until autumn, there's time! It'll hurt too much if I do another now, please no more!"

Parisa's shock slowly gave way to horror as the fairy's deplorable conditions became more and more apparent. She wanted to say something, but she knew Annie would just get defensive and guilt her if she did.

"Yeah, it'd probably be more effective closer to September anyway," Parisa agreed quickly, unable to push down a feeling of hope that Ciel would like her for agreeing with him.

"Fine, whatever," Annie sighed, roughly shoving the cage back under the bed. Parisa got the feeling she was more interested in showing off than actually helping. "Then you can see him more then. He's my fairy, after all. Let's go back downstairs."

Parisa followed Annie, but didn't take her eyes off the dark space under the bed until the door was firmly shut behind them.

It was hard to go back to hanging out normally, and she couldn't keep herself from asking question after question about Ciel. Parisa really wanted to just see him again, but she knew he would hate that, so she didn't ask to.

But as Annie told story after story, it only solidified the fact that what was happening here was wrong. She was practically torturing the delicate little creature, draining him of magic to his absolute limit.

Parisa dreaded the answer, but she couldn't not ask. "What happened to his wings?"

"Don't be a baby about it, but I had to trim them after he tried to fly away one time," Annie said, like it was nothing.

"Wouldn't that hurt?" She tried to do what Annie said, to not be a baby about it, but it was getting ridiculously hard. She wanted to cry, hearing her best friend had done something like that.

"No, it was like getting a haircut, I think. Except permanent. He didn't like, scream or anything." Annie shoved her lightly on the arm. "I said don't be a baby."

"Right. Right." This was all wrong. This wasn't how discovering fairies were real was supposed to be. She had to get out of Annie's face. "I feel like I'm gonna be sick," she lied.

"Ew, go." Annie pointed upstairs. "God, you're so sensitive."

Parisa darted up to the bathroom, where she felt like she could breathe a little better. How was she supposed to live the rest of her life knowing Annie was torturing a fairy? They weren't even going to schools in the same state. She wouldn't be able to do anything to help. She might not ever get to see him again after whatever spell Annie wanted him to do.

Unless she took a peek right now.

Parisa snuck into Annie's room, hoping she wouldn't come to check on her, and carefully pulled the cage out from under the bed.

Ciel clung to the metal spout of the water bottle, like she'd interrupted him while he was drinking. He looked around wildly, relaxing a little bit when he realized Annie wasn't here. "Is she coming?" he asked, his voice so quiet Parisa could just barely hear him.

"No. I'm not supposed to be in here," she admitted. "I just wanted to see you again. And, um, check if you're alright."

"I'm not," he answered without hesitation, eyes still shining with tears. "I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. Please, I desperately need help, Miss." He tentatively stepped forward, though his little hands shook. "Rissie, she said your name was?"

"Parisa. You're Ciel?" she asked.

"I am. Please, I can- I'll come back and do a spell for you, once I've had a chance to rest. If you would just..."

He pointed toward the window with a trembling finger. "Please?"

Oh, Parisa wanted so badly to help. "But your wings? How will you get down?"

Ciel sobbed. "I don't know. I need to be away from here, she plans to keep me imprisoned for life. She's careless, she's going to kill me and I won't even get to die outdoors!"

Parisa had to do something, even if it meant she would lose her only friend. She was probably going to lose her either way anyway, once they left in September.

She unlatched the cage, holding a hand bigger than Ciel's whole body out to him. "I'll help. You just have to trust me."

It was obvious from his face that Ciel had a strong distaste for being grasped in human hands. But with no other options, he climbed readily into Parisa's palm. "Please be gentle," he begged.

She was holding a real fairy. It was like a dream, but Parisa couldn't get caught up in that now, she had to focus on protecting him. She brought Ciel to the front pocket of her hoodie, carefully placing him inside. "Try not to make any noise or move around too much. I'll keep you safe, I promise."

Parisa could feel the fairy's little heartbeat thrumming away against her as she headed back downstairs.

"Yeah, I'm really not feeling good," she told Annie. "I think I'm just gonna go home."

"'Kay, whatever." Annie shrugged. "If you get over yourself by tomorrow, you can come watch him do a spell for me."

Annie would figure out it was her, Parisa knew. But what could she do? It wasn't like she could tell anyone she stole her fairy. And now that they'd graduated high school, she could just... never see Annie again, if she felt like it.

"Goodbye, Annie." Parisa walked out the door without another word.

She waited until she'd walked far enough away from Annie's house and she couldn't see anyone else around to stick her hand in her pocket, offering it to Ciel. "Coast is clear."

He crawled into her hand, and Parisa lifted him out. His eyes instantly went up toward the stars, and she saw him smile for the first time.

"Thank you," he breathed. "It's really over?"

"It's over. I won't let her take you back," Parisa assured him. "What do you want to do?"

"What I want...? I can't just fly off," Ciel lamented. "I'm not sure yet. I- I sort of just want to rest now. She keeps me so tired all the time."

"You can rest. Do you wanna go back in my pocket?" Parisa asked.

He nodded. "Yes, I think I do."

Parisa softly set him back down inside, both of them feeling freer than they'd ever been as she walked them home.

tune in monday for some alien whump! 👽 and the following thursday for some kane & jim

this is ciel's cage btw. never put a living creature in this monstrosity

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

one-shots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

g/t whump taglist:

@whumpinthepot

@cupcakes-and-pain

@reborrowing

event: @whumpmasinjuly @gianttol

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #whump #g/t #whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day21 #my writing #tiny whump #fae whumpee #fairy whumpee #rescue #captivity #begging #wing whump #magical exhaustion #whump writing

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oliversrarebooks · 9 months

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A faefolk whumpee, badly injured, ends up in a human medical facility. The doctors and nurses prod the fae with metal tools, give them human blood transfusions and medications, and lay them on an iron bed, all of which cause the fae to deteriorate. They're too weak to explain themselves coherently, and when they try, the doctors think they're delirious.

#whump #whump writing #whump prompt #medical whump #fae #faerie #fae whumpee

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hurtmyfavsthanks · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 11: Timeloop

Content warning: death (temporary), decapitation (temporary), fae whumpee (how else could decapitation be ‘temporary?’)

“I know what you’re doing.”

Whumpee didn’t turn to look at them. They rarely did, unless forced. They simply say, cross legged and back straight, on the flimsy mattress Whumper had tossed into their cell. They had their back turned to Whumper, as if they were unbothered by the accusation.

For the briefest of moments, regret flashed in Whumper’s mind. It was supposed to be an easy job. They didn’t need to kill the creature, simply hold it until the hunters could return. All they had to do was keep the cell door closed. It should have been easy.

They should’ve known that nothing involving Fae was easy.

“It won’t work,” Whumper spoke with more confidence than they felt. “This game of yours isn’t going to win you any favors with me.

Whumpee didn’t turn to look at them.

—

Whumper didn’t know how long it’d been going on. Likely since the day they’d allowed Whumpee to be brought into their basement, but they weren’t sure. When you live a static, secluded life, the passage of time, or there lack of, is easy to miss.

But now they couldn’t ignore it. When they went into town, they were greeted with the exact same words from the exact same people. When they broke a plate, it was unblemished when they next awoke. Everything had become predictable, down to the very second the birds would begin chirping. No matter what they did, everything reset the following day. There never was a following day.

It had to be the thing in the basement. Playing games, throwing a tantrum because a human had managed to catch it. Whumper wasn’t going to stand for it.

Whumper woke up and checked their calendar. The ugly mark they’d torn through the 11th, ink stained and impossible to erase, was gone.

Whumper stormed into the basement.

“Enough!” Whumper slammed a hand against the bars, the sound reverberating. Whumpee didn’t respond.

“Don’t play innocent with me! Don’t pretend you’re uninvolved, when this reeks of magic. Look at me!”

Whumpee didn’t move, still as a statue. A shiver ran its way up Whumper’s spine.

“Stop it. I’ve already got you locked away, Fae,” Whumper hissed. “If you think I haven’t hurt you because I cannot, you’re wrong.”

They wouldn’t humiliate themselves by waiting for a response they knew would never come. Whumper left, their own words echoing in their mind.

Before going to bed, they scratched another mark into the calendar, digging it so deeply that it could never be removed. —

Whumper woke up and checked their calendar, and saw nothing but clean paper. They went into town, looking for anyone who could lift curses.

They didn’t find any help. The local mage was on a mission in the far south. The nearest mage was more than a day’s travel away.

They tore the calendar off the wall, leaving a tattered mess on the floor. — Whumper woke up. The calendar sat unblemished on their wall.

They grabbed their blade with shaking hands.

“I’ll give you one final chance,” they said, standing before Whumpee’s prison. “Lift this curse, end this game, or I will end you. You’ve become more work than you’re worth.”

Like always, like always, the creature didn’t respond. It seemed that whatever Whumper did, they could not earn the attention of this creature. It was as if Whumper were invisible.

It was as if Whumpee deemed them beneath their concern.

Whumper saw red.

They fumbled for the key on their waist, turning it in the lock and swinging the cell door open. Some part of them screamed in protest, horrified at the thought of getting closer to the bound fae making their heart pound. Anger, terror, forced them forward regardless. It was clear that the bars would not protect them.

Whumpee did not respond. They did not move. They sat, calm and stoic, as if Whumper did not stand before them with murder in their eyes.

Stabbing a fae, it seemed, was no different than stabbing any other creature. The knife tore through the flesh easily, sinking in with a nauseating sqeltching noise. The creature bled, warm against Whumper’s hand.

Whumpee didn’t scream, didn’t so much as flinch. It was as if the blade Whumper buried into their stomach was an inconvenience, as if Whumper were nothing more than a petulant child.

They brought the blade down again, tearing through flesh, cutting bone and muscle, carving a hole into the chest of the stoic creature. Whumpee never screamed, but Whumper did.

They didn’t stop until the body gave a last, shaky exhale, and fell limp on the mattress.

Panting with exertion, Whumper stumbled up the stairs.

It was only in the light of their home that they noticed the dark, viscous liquid staining their clothing. Whumpee’s blood. It wasn’t red.

Fae bled blue.

They spent the rest of the night scrubbing their skin raw. Their fingers were still stained navy blue when they stumbled into bed.

— Whumper woke up, their fingers unblemished. Whumpee was still in the cell, sitting.

They had to swallow the furious, desperate sob that threatened to tear from their throat. —

The same day again. Whumper didn’t bother going into the basement. For the first time in decades, they prayed.

— The same day. They’d stopped trying to keep count.

Whumper entered the cell once more, a weapon in their hands. They didn’t hesitate before entering this time.

Whumper stood before Whumpee. Slowly, as if expecting them to lash out at any moment, Whumper pushed Whumpee to lay flat on the mattress. They positioned themselves above the creature.

Crouched on top of them, Whumper found themselves staring into the creature's face. They were gorgeous; if they were human, Whumper might have fallen for them. But there was something too perfect about their face, so beautiful that it could not be human.

Whumper grabbed their blade and carefully began separating that inhumanly beautiful head from its body. The flesh gave way easily, welcoming the blade without resistance. They slowly sawed through muscle and bone, blood pooling around Whumpee’s head like spilled ink.

Whumpee did not fight. They did not cry out, they did not react. They only stared, eyes calm, expression relaxed, as blood poured from their lips in waves. Their eyes never quite met Whumper’s.

Whumper did not stop until the body beneath them stopped breathing. They did not stop until they held Whumpee’s head in their hands.

Whumper burned the body. They burned their house alongside it for good measure.

That night, Whumper slept beside the cooling ashes of their home, and prayed they’d wake up to a new day. —

Whumper woke up in bed. The bed they’d burned the night before.

Whumpee was still in their basement. Alive, sitting cross legged on the basement floor.

Whumper screamed.

“Damn you! Damn you to hell, you wicked creature!” They kicked at the bars, the pain not registering. They watched through beary eyes as Whumpee ignored them.

They were done. They were done with this.

“You want your freedom so badly?” Whumper scrambled to pull the key from their belt, movements frantic. “Then take it, take it and let me go!”

They swung the cell door open with such force that it slammed against the wall. They didn’t care what happened next. If the creature killed them, if the hunters killed them when they returned, so be it. Whumper wanted out.

For the first time, Whumper saw Whumpee move. They untangled their legs with grace, unfolding like a crane as they lifted themselves from the dirty mattress. They walked on elegant, sure legs, moving past Whumper without so much as a glance.

They disappeared up the stairs without a word.

Whumper didn’t follow them.

— Whumper woke up. On shaking legs, they stumbled down into their basement, prayers on their lips.

Whumpee was there. Sitting, again. Quiet, again. Waiting, for what Whumper did not know. They were still there.

The door to the cell was still open. It felt like the maw of a beast, ready to consume Whumper whole.

Whumper screamed.

For the first time, Whumpee smiled.

#magical whumpee #fae whumpee #whumper #whumpee #whumper turned whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #how the turns have tabled!#captivity whump #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 11 #whumpee death

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blackrosesandwhump · 1 year

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New picrew!

I found this fun new picrew and created my OCs Asa and Victor. Asa's looking particularly insane today...

Picrew link

Feel free to jump in and add your OCs too! :)

(And, to be clear, these characters are not kids. It's just the way the picrew makes them look.)

#my ocs my beloved #picrew #picrew creator #picrew oc #original characters #whump ocs #picrew time #vampire whumpee #fae whumpee #inhuman whumpees #hybrid whumpees #half human

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mothmxwhump · 1 year

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Can I get uhhh... made a slave Virgil for bad things happen bingo

ABSOLUTELY >:D

Content warnings: mind control sort of, fae whumper and whumpee, derogatory language, pet names

Virgil couldn’t move. His body had locked up at the sound of his name.

Verneus circled him, hair fluttering like blades of grass in the cool breeze.

“So beautiful…” he murmured. He crouched down. “So delicate… why did you leave, little flower?”

“I didn’t—“ his jaw locked. Verneus chuckled.

“Don’t lie to me,” he hissed.

“My girlfriend took me. You know that.”

“Is that so?” Verneus traced a thumb over the lower fae’s lips, reveling in the knowledge that his new toy wouldn’t dare bite him as he brushed the finger over his sharp canines.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You’re not in much of a position to be giving demands, little flower.”

“Please don’t touch me.”

“Adorable.” Verneus’s eyes shimmered lavender, as he brushed the auburn hair from Virgil’s eyes. “So vulnerable…”

“The second I’m free I’m going to kill you.”

“Oh, ⎐⟟⍀☌⟟⌰, I don’t think that will be any time soon…” Verneus hummed, watching as Virgil’s body stiffened. “Now come on, let me show you off. The court is just dying to see my new slave.”

#whump #fae whumpee #fairy whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #pet whump #captivity whump #Virgil #Verneus

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deckofaces · 1 year

Note

Hi bestiiie please please please could you write a fae whumpee with yandere human(s)? No pressure ofc and thank you in advance 💕

Please accept these lesbian fairies as a token of my appreciation ✨️

Omg of course you can request that bestie <3 I hope you like it! (Also ugh I love the fairies, I cherish them)

Gilded Cage

Tw: burns/blisters, yandere whumper, captivity, fae whumpee, use of iron against whumpee

Faerie sat down on the soft, but fake grass of their room. Surrounding them there were potted plants everywhere. Some of them were huge and almost reached the ceiling while the others were tiny. It seemed like an insult, the fake forest Human provided for them. They missed the real one, the one they were from. Their wings were folded behind their back and tears ran down their face as they wished they could escape.

They looked down at their wrist. It throbbed horribly. There sat an iron cuff, the human that had taken them prisoner knew enough about fae to not fall for their tricks and knew that iron weakened them. So much so they could not escape.

Faerie hopelessly picked at the cuff, trying anything to pull it off their wrist. All they could do was wince in pain as the action just burned their fingers.

They glanced up as they heard the loud sound of the door unlocking. Human stepped into the room carrying a bag with them and crouched down in front of the faerie. They wiped their tears, though Faerie pulled their head away soon after.

“Hello my Faerie,” Human hummed, admiring the faerie that sat in front of them.

“Don’t call me that,” they whispered in reply, “I do not know your name, do not use mine.”

Human chuckled at that, wiping more tears. “Oh dear.. You know I can’t give you my name. That is not why you are here. But do not think about that.. Why are you crying?”

Why had the faerie been crying? Maybe humans really were that stupid. Everything about their situation made them want to sob. But currently it was the condition of their wrist. It looked to be covered in burns from the iron cuff, and it ached like nothing else they have ever felt. They weakly lifted their cuffed wrist, showing Human their burns.

The human did not look too fazed by all the burns and blisters, as if they expected it to happen. But when they spoke, they sounded calm and almost caring. “That will not do, I do not want permanent scarring if I can help it. I need to keep your beauty intact.”

They stood up and walked towards the bathroom that connected to the faerie’s main room. They leaned against the wooden door waiting for Faerie. “Well? Come on then.”

Faerie hesitated on the ground. Human would help them? There must be a trick, but they looked back down at their burning wrist and thought anything would be better in that moment than the iron on their skin. They shakily stood up and made their way to the bathroom.

“Once you fully understand that this is where you are meant to stay, Faerie, the iron cuff will no longer be necessary.” Human unlocked the cuff, it fell off their wrist and they put it back in their bag. Faerie almost cried out from relief as the pain suddenly lessened and cool air hit their skin.

Soon after, Faerie heard the sound of rushing water coming from the faucet. Human put their arm under it, they tried to yank their arm away at the sudden cool feeling, but Human’s grip on their arm tightened.

“Shh don’t do that. The water is cooling the burn. It will ease the pain dear Faerie.” Human guided their wrist back under the water which caused them to sharply inhale. However they slowly started to relax, they hated that the human had been right. After a few minutes the pain eased to a low throb.

To prevent drying out the skin, Human turned off the water and took out lotion from their bag. They put a little in their hand and applied it to Faerie’s wrist. Their touch felt so gentle, Faerie found themself relaxing just a bit, letting out a breath they were holding.

Their eyes followed Human’s hand on their burned wrist. “Why..”

“Hm? What is it?” They paused their work, looking up at Faerie and meeting their eyes.

Faerie gulped, trying again. “Why.. why do I have to stay here?” They tensed up again, afraid of Human’s reaction to their question.

Human smiled warmly at them. “The city is too dangerous for you. You were lucky that I was the one that found you first when you wandered into civilization.”

Tears welled up in Faerie’s eyes again, they wished someone else found them. “You could have just taken me back to the forest. Not here.”

Human found sterile gauze bandages in their bag as well. They took care to wrap it loosely around Faerie’s wrist. “Dear, dear, there is no reason to cry. If I took you back to the forest, I could never guarantee your safety. Forests can be dangerous too. Or what if a faerie hunter came after you? I would never forgive myself. You will be better in my hands.”

“But-“

“No buts,” Human said lovingly to the faerie. They ran their hand through their long wavy hair, massaging their scalp.

“Let’s go back out into the main room, I’ll let you rest without the iron cuff on, you look exhausted.”

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pigeonwhumps · 1 year

Text

First day part 1

Sam and Lucan masterlist

Taglist: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @onlybadendings @whumpofdory @haro-whumps

Lucan's first day living with Sam.

Divided into two parts because I feel like I've been starving y'all of Sam and Lucan content and I wanted to give you some. Lucan's been brutalised in the auction house enough for the time being.

2.8k

CWs: past rape, past slavery, pet whump, non-human whumpee (faerie), conditioning, past food and drink denial, past electric shocks

“I think he was raped.”

“Who was?” asks Amanda sharply.

“Lucan.”

“Sam, I cannot express to you how little that name means to me right now.”

Ah. “I... haven’t told you yet, have I?”

“About Lucan? No.”

“He's a faerie. Until last night, Caroline Jones' pet-class slave.”

Amanda sighs. “Is this why the news is talking about her house burning down? Sam, what did you do?”

“You know I had that interview with her yesterday? Well, she brought Lucan with her, and it was awful. She wouldn't even let him have a drink because he didn't 'deserve it'. She was boasting about not giving him solid food. He was so scared, Amanda, I couldn't just leave him there!” They swallow hard. “And when Luke brought him here... we had to cut his hair, because part of it was burnt, and he started crying when I said I wouldn't do so without his permission. That he could cut it himself if he preferred. You know how much hair means to faeries. Between that and the name Caroline gave him... how much has he been violated over the years that treating him with basic respect makes him cry?”

“I don't disagree with you taking him in, Sam, I never would. I'd be a hypocrite if I did.”

“True.”

“So. You said he was raped?” she asks through a mouthful of something.

“Oh shit, I forgot you were working today. I'm so sorry.”

“You're lucky. You caught me on my break. Tell me why you think Lucan was raped.”

“He offered himself up to me. I went in this morning to see if he wanted breakfast, and he just... offered himself. To be raped. And I don't, I mean, Caroline doesn't seem the type but...”

There’s silence from the other end of the line for nearly a full minute before Amanda says, “do you remember those giveaways she held? There was an advert for one in the paper once.”

They do remember now. It was a line of print in an article about Caroline, urging people to visit her Instagram page for a chance to win. Top prize: the use of her pet for the weekend. “You used it for kindling.”

“Well, I don’t have a litter tray to put it in.”

“Or a cat.”

“Or a cat,” she agrees.

“So you think that Lucan’s been raped by one of those winners?”

“One or more, I'd say. You know what the people who try to win those things are like. And as long as it's not permanent, visible damage I can't see her caring.”

They swallow. They don't even want to think about it, but they have to. “Will you do me a favour and examine him? Not just because of the rape, I mean he has scars and injuries everywhere, and I want to make sure nothing's too serious.”

“If anything was infected you'd probably know by now, but I'll come over later. Has he eaten yet?”

“No. I was going to make him eggs as soon as I'd woken him, but then... well, this happened.”

“Okay. Feed him and try and make him comfortable. The less scared he is when I do the tests the better.”

“He'll still be terrified, but I'll do my best. I was going to do that anyway, I don't want him scared of me.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you happen to have any tips? For taking care of him, I mean, I know you've treated slaves and ex-slaves before, and you know Kara, so I was just wondering...”

"Yeah, actually. Give him some rules. They don't have to be anything big, but he needs some kind of structure. And try not to feel rejected if he stays scared, or doesn't believe you won't hurt him. Judging by what I know happened to Kara, he has good reason to feel that way.”

“Cheers. Well, I'd better let you get back to what you were doing.”

“I'll see you soon then.” She hangs up and they clutch the mobile like a lifeline as they head towards their room. Hopefully Lucan's dressed this time.

Lucan dresses himself carefully, pulling on the sweatshirt and too-short tracksuit bottoms. He wraps the scarf back around his neck and he immediately feels better. Warmer. The warm, soft weight around his neck is comforting. Then he kneels on the floor, waiting for Master to return.

He doesn't understand. If Master didn't want to use him like that, why did they give him a bed? The small relief he feels at not having to do that is overriden by his fear. Master told him to rest some more and get dressed. What's Master got in store for him that's bad enough that he has to rest first? Old Mistress never let him rest on a bed. Master's punishments must be more severe than hers, then.

Punishment for what? What's he done wrong? He hasn't done anything that Master hasn't ordered him to since he arrived.

Luke, maybe?

It doesn't matter what your opinion is, 12735, says a handler in his head, if your owner says you need to be punished you need it and that's the end of the matter. So get down there, take the punishment, and be damned grateful she's bothering to teach you.

Lucan swallows. He knows he needs to be punished, he always does, he just... doesn't understand anything here.

The door creaks open and he tenses, eyes on Master's fluffy socks as they approach.

“Hi Lucan. Um, you can look at me if you like.” Lucan glances up briefly. Master doesn't look too angry, but their arms are still lean and muscly and if they choose they can hurt him badly. It doesn't matter if they're not angry now, that can change. Lucan looks away quickly. “Oh, well, you don't have to. But you're dressed, that's good. I've made us both breakfast, if you want some. Come with me.”

Lucan crawls along behind Master until they reach the kitchen.

“Great. Great. Why don't you stay there while I sort out breakfast?”

Lucan stops by the door and waits, patiently, waiting for the trick and the pain, watching as Master bustles around the small kitchen, fetching bits and pieces. He wonders what they're going to do. Surely it can't be actual, good, solid food, he's done nothing to earn that. What's Master doing to give him?

Sam glances at Lucan intermittently as they prepare the food, doubling back to fetch cutlery. The faerie looks worried. Sam still has no idea what's going through his head, but at least they can provide him with a warm breakfast.

“Do you like eggs? I forgot to ask earlier.” Lucan nods and Sam smiles. “Excellent.” They busy themself with the toaster, then pour out a glass of milk, setting it on the floor beside the faerie. “You can drink that, if you want. I'm sorry, I didn't offer you anything last night, so you must be thirsty. I didn't mean to, it's just... last night was a lot. Anyway. Drink, if you like. There's nothing in it to hurt you.”

After a nervous glance up at them, Lucan takes the glass in both hands and sips at it, then seems to change his mind and downs the milk. He looks surprised.

“You really are thirsty, huh? Would you like some more?” Lucan nods and bows as Sam hands him another glass. He drinks that one in one gulp too. Sam smiles slightly and turns back to the eggs, placing one carefully in a garish novelty eggcup, talking to Lucan as they do so. They can't stop themself rambling.

“I wasn't sure how you eat them so I've cooked both eggs differently, there's a hardboiled one and a dippy egg with soldiers. I've cut the top off that one already because the only cutlery I have that won't hurt you is a plastic ice cream sundae spoon, no idea where from. Fine for the inside of the egg but it wouldn't cut through the shell. Oh, speaking of shells, I've left the one on the hardboiled egg, you can eat it with or without the shell. Um... I want you to eat it whichever way you prefer. It would... make me happy, if you did that.” Sam hopes they've phrased that enough like an order that Lucan will do it. It makes them uneasy but Lucan needs to eat. Once Lucan's breakfast is plated they pour a bowl of Coco Pops for themself, then carry both over to the table. “Will you sit up here and eat?” Lucan darts a glance up at Sam, then lowers it again and shakes his head. Sam carefully doesn't sigh. “Right. I'll just have to sit on the floor with you then.”

They sit down against the wall, balancing the bowl on their legs and placing Lucan's plate and the carton of milk in front of him. The faerie flinches.

Sam reaches up a hand, careful to keep it within Lucan's line of sight, and scratches his scalp. The faerie melts into it.

“You're good, Lucan. Wherever you choose to sit, you're good. I like sitting on the floor anyway, it's always good to have some floor time.” He nods towards the plate of eggs. “Go on. Eat. And feel free to pour yourself another drink if you want one, or just drink the milk from the carton.”

Lucan takes a tentative bite of the hard-boiled egg, shell and all, his face brightening as he seems to realise it's not going to hurt him. He eats it quickly, hunched over it slightly. Once Sam realises that he's definitely going to eat all his food, they start on their own. The coco pops are a bit soggy now, but still tasty.

Once they've both eaten, Sam stands, taking the faerie's empty plate and leaving it on the table with their own. Then they sit down opposite Lucan, who glances up at them tentatively before letting his gaze fall again.

“So. I think we should lay down some basic rules. Is that okay?” Lucan nods. “Okay. Good. So, firstly, you need to know that I will never rape you, or do anything to you sexually. I will never, ever hurt you like that, or let anyone else do so, and if anyone tries you're to tell me, Lucan, as soon as you can. Because raping you isn't acceptable. Understand?” He nods again. “Good. Good. That's the most important one. Okay, so the next rule is that I want you to eat at least twice a day. Three times would be ideal, but given how much it looks like you've been eating I'm not sure your body would be able to manage that. When was the last time you even ate solid food?” They pull out their phone and open the notes app, sliding it across the floor to Lucan. “Here. Write it down.”

Lucan takes the phone, thinking, and writes, New Year's Eve, Master.

Sam swallows. Christ. That was months ago, it's autumn now.

“Yeah. You definitely won't manage solid food three times a day. But I'm not buying you those shakes, they're disgusting and I very much doubt they're filling. We'll just have to build up to it. And you can just call me Sam.” Lucan bends his head, hands braced on the tiles. “Hey. I'm not going to punish you for not calling me Sam. You didn't know, and I imagine it's a big change. I bet you haven't called anyone by their name for years, have you?” Lucan shakes his head. “Thought so. I'm not cross, Lucan, I promise. Why don't you sit back up properly so we can finish going over the rules?”

Lucan obeys, sitting back on his heels, trembling slightly. Sam scratches his head.

“Good. That's good. You're okay Lucan, I won't hurt you.” When Lucan looks a little better, Sam withdraws their hand and sits back. “The next rule is that I want you to remind me to eat. I'm not very good at it. Come and fetch me when you're eating, no matter what I'm doing or what time it is. That rule doesn't apply if I'm not here, obviously. There's plenty of food in the cupboards and the fridge, you can eat anything you like. You can cook, too, if you like. Can you cook?” Lucan nods. “Great. I'm a terrible cook. That doesn't mean you have to, but if you want a cooked meal feel free to make one. Oh! You can fetch a drink whenever you like. There's milk in the fridge and squash in the bottom cupboard, and obviously water in the tap. Please drink whenever you like, I don't want you getting dehydrated. That starts from now, by the way. Umm...” Sam pauses. They didn't think this through ahead of time. They should have. What other rules can they give Lucan? “Okay. I want you to try standing or walking for at least ten minutes each day. I noticed last night that your muscles aren't used to standing, which is fine, so we'll build up the time from there until you can walk properly instead of crawling everywhere. But for now, I want you to do something on your feet for at least ten minutes a day. If you can't manage it in one block, don't worry, you can spread it out. Okay?” The faerie nods, looking slightly confused. Well, there's nothing Sam can do about that. “Good. The last rule then is that you can sleep and use the bathroom whenever you like. You don't need to ask my permission. I'm guessing that you probably have before, but you don't need to here. I often get distracted or have to go to work stuff and don't end up finishing until late, and I don't want you staying awake because you feel you have to wait for my permission.” Lucan nods, and Sam rubs his head, feeling awkward all of a sudden. “That's everything, I think. Sorry, I tend to ramble a lot when I'm nervous, or when I'm not actually too, but... did you get all that?”

Lucan nods firmly. Yes, he got it. He heard the rules, he knows what he has to do. He didn't hear what the punishments will be, though, but that's okay. Maybe Master... Master Sam likes to keep him on tenterhooks. Maybe they think Lucan will behave better if he doesn't know the punishment. That's okay, that's their right.

He knows what he has to do, but he doesn't understand. And he knows he doesn't need to but... these rules are so simple. There's so few of them. And they don't seem unpleasant at all. What's the point of them? What does Master Sam even want with him? They apparently don't want him for sex, and they haven't given him much to do... surely reminding them to eat and cooking sometimes can't be all they want him for? Why go to all the trouble of stealing him for that?

And why is Master Sam apologising? Everything Lucan's owner does is right, he knows that, they don't need to apologise.

Still. None of that matters. Master Sam will tell Lucan what he needs to know, when he needs to know it, and that's all that matters, 12735, you piece of faerie scum, stop trying to think like a person. So he nods, phantoms of electric shocks skittering over his skin.

“Good. Good.”

They look uncertain now and Lucan decides to test the rules. Master Sam didn't punish him for calling them by the wrong name earlier, they sat down with him and were... strange, and although he doesn't understand why they like to sit on the floor they haven't lied to him yet. So, feeling his thirst even more than he did before the first drink, heart pounding, he unscrews the carton of milk and carefully pours some out. With a quick glance at Master Sam, who nods encouragingly, he drinks it, determined to savour it this time. He doesn't know how long Master Sam will let him drink regularly for – maybe until he looks to their liking.

As soon as he puts the glass down, Master Sam reaches out, and Lucan flinches, expecting something painful from their muscular arms that could hurt a lot but haven't yet – they must be adding up their disobediences and hesitations so they can punish him for all of them efficiently, and maybe that time is now – but it doesn't hurt. All Master Sam does is scratch his scalp, and he melts.

“You did good, Lucan. You're okay. You're doing good, you're good. You always are.”

But is that last part praise or a threat? Lucan can't tell, and even though he can't help but lean into Master Sam's touch, it scares him. He'll have to do his best not to disobey so that threat doesn't become a promise.

Even though it inevitably will.

#whump writing #pet whump #fae whump #whumpee thinks caretaker is their new whumper #recovery whump #whump #non human whumpee #fae whumpee #whumpee and caretaker #past rape #sam and lucan #sam johnson #lucan oc #amanda burke #conditioning

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echo-goes-mmm · 3 months

Text

Moonflower Masterpost

A stolen fae is forced into slavery. Tortured into giving up his true name, he doesn't feel much of anything anymore. Until he's given to Queen Iris, who wants to make a deal.

Contains Caretaker x Whumpee (slowburn)

Based on this post

Warnings: slavery, torture, past non-con, dehumanization

Chapters:

Arc 1:

Drabbles:

one | two

Picrews:

one | two | three | four

My Writing Masterpost

#my writing #whump #Moonflower Series #slavery whump #fae whumpee #royal caretaker #whumpee x caretaker #resigned whumpee

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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year

Text

Always Alone

For @whumptober 2022, day 24: blood covered hands

Killan’s masterlist

Follows directly after All the Light is Gone and Monster, Made

CW: Stitches/sewing up skin, trauma response, panic, environmental whump

Killan wakes, bleary and only partially conscious, to a stinging pain along the top of his head, the familiar sense of a needle and thread weaving in and out of his skin. He groans, turning his head away. “… stop…”

A small, long-fingered hand presses sharp talons that prick from cheekbone to jaw and then it back. "Bhei sà, du," A voice hisses in a familiar lilting, lyrical voice.

Killan feels rock under his back, a needle in his skin, and the shadowy sense of a fae leaning over him. For a moment, all he can understand is that Calon Nie must be here, wanting him back again.

His breath catches in his throat, eyes snapping open. Adrenaline sends a wash of cold terror from head to toe, and he sits up in a sudden jerk, shoving away his assailant. The sound that comes from him is twinned, a fae’s whistling shriek and a human’s scream. “Kani, Calon Nie! Nei!”

There's an angry squawk and hiss in response.

Killan's already moving, throwing himself forward and panting as he starts crawling with desperate speed across the room. Something thin keeps hitting him in the forehead, but he can't care about that now. There’s a tunnel ahead, and he can hear water running somewhere clear by. He heads for it.

Water means life, it might head towards the sky.

The sky means escape, from Calon Nie’s terrible ambitions, from the corpses littered around him making his new body for Calon Nie to control until he tires of its imperfections.

Behind him, the sound of pursuit - talons clattering on rock and quick breathing. It only drives him on faster, more desperately.

His wing drags behind him on one side and the pain rises and falls with his breathing, but he keeps going. There's a fork, and he swings left, following the sound of the water.

"Kai! Tarai iis, du!"

It's not the right voice, and it sounds angry, Calon Nie was almost never angry. Irritated, but not angry. Every resistance was only a slight delay, after all, when it came to how Calon Nie saw time.

Killan slows.

Where is he?

He crawls into another opening, this one only just large enough to sit up in, though much wider across. To one side, he can see the rushing water now, glimmering in the darkness to his stolen fae eyes. When he moves to touch it, it isn't cold, but slightly lukewarm. His fingers are smeared with gray wet sludge. When he lifts it to his nose, panting until his breathing slows enough to inhale more deeply, it smells like ash.

"Tarai iis," the voice says again, breathless and slightly raspy. He turns to see her, remembering only then the fae, Siira, and everything that led to this moment.

The flock of birds, the odd dark smoke around the ancient mountain…

The explosion, the way the mountain simply ceased to exist where and how it had before.

"Wh-... What were you doing to me?" He asks, and his voice comes out doubled, hissing fae and lower-pitched, trembling man. "What were you taking from me?"

"Take no thing, me!" She smacks one hand down against the ground. Her wings are puffed again in annoyance, holding something up between her talons. Both her hands are smeared with blood up to her wrists.

His blood.

The familiar sight makes him feel sick, remembering Calon Nie with tiny feathers sticking to the tacky drying blood on his own talons, patting a trembling, sobbing Killan between his reformed, mutilated shoulder blades and cooing praise for his near perfection.

Until he wasn't perfect any longer.

Until Calon Nie decided he should start fresh with other lives taken for his discoveries.

He sees the needle and shoves himself backwards again, landing promptly right in the sludgy running water. "Why? Why?!"

She narrows her eyes, clicking four times in confusion. Her head tips to one side. "Head." She taps the side of her own head. "See big cut, sew it up, me. Almost. You wake. Now…" She shrugs.

"Now…" He reaches up to run fingertips on his human hand over his scalp, when he finds something bumpy and painful. He pulls his hand back to see smears of bright red on the tips of his fingers.

A bit of thick black thread sticks briefly to the blood, then falls back against his hair.

"Need finish, me," Siira says impatiently, beckoning him back to her. "Tarai, du."

Killan swallows, but he moves back out of the water, shivering as a breeze runs over and around him. The smell of ash and smoke is on the wind. They can't be far from a way out. The air smells too fresh, feels too dry and warm not to be from somewhere they can reach.

Siira goes back to work once he's close enough, hissing softly as she threads the needle once again. Killan trembles, forcing himself to stay still as her talons press lightly against his head, sending pain in a wave down through him. He curls his human hand into a fist just to do something.

"Dollmaker use needles much, hm?" She asks, leaning in so closely he can feel her breath moving his hair. "Make many scares, you."

"Yes," He whispers. The needle pricks his skin, and he feels the pull and pressure of a needle pulled through, thread easing the two sides of his sliced scalp together. "I've been… cut open a lot. He gave me… new things."

"Many new things. Seeing, me. New wings. New eyes, you, new hand, new… this." She taps the scar over his throat, making him jump again. "Sssss!” She smacks him. “Be still, you! Not moving!”

Killan closes his eyes, breathing carefully, slow and even. Just like Calon Nie would have told him to, would have made him hold still, freezing his body for the knife, the needle, the magic to remake however he saw fit.

His shaking is getting worse.

There's one rough tug that makes his fae voice squawk in pain, less controlled and more instinctive than the human one, before Siira shifts back, showing him the needle in her bloody hand.

"All done. Help you, me. Help me, you. A good deal. Take to the sky, now. Follow the water, us?"

Killan shudders, trying in vain to shake off the ghosts of his past, and nods. They have to get into the running water and wade against its muddy current, the small, light fae's hands gripped tightly to his waist so she can follow him without getting swept away.

The smell of ash and fire gets stronger, the breeze starts to whip around them, and finally, finally he sees above them an uneven, jagged open place the water is falling through. It looks like when the earth fell apart beneath him, this space opened beneath a creek bed, creating again an underground river that had dried up long, long ago.

Maybe after the last time the mountain erupted.

Beyond it… he might see the trunk of a tree, the suggestion of branches. A star, or maybe he just hopes the sky is still there.

"Here," He says, shifting and holding out his arms. "You climb out, then pull me up."

She eyes him thoughtfully, then nods and clambers right up his back, until her feet dig claws into his shoulders. She stretches out, arms above her, wings closed tightly against her back.

Bracing himself against the water still running around his legs nearly to his thighs, he shoves her upwards, goes up on his toes, and feels the weight of her lift as she catches her talons on the edge and pulls herself out.

There's a pause where he stares upwards, breathing hard.

"Siira?"

No answer.

Then, the sound of talons scrambling over rocks, the heavy beat of wings, a cry of delight in her freedom from the prison under the earth, and she's gone.

She left.

She left him here, alone.

Killan stares, despairing, and then braces himself and jumps. His fingers almost brush against the edge. He grunts with pain as he lands, broken wing shifting, head throbbing.

He tries again and fails.

He tries again.

And again.

It takes another five tries before, just at the end of his energy and ready to give up, he gets just an inch or two higher and the talons on his right hand catch the edge, buying him just enough time to grab with his human hand, too.

His arms ache with the strain. He gulps in a breath as the water roars down over his head, chilled until his muscles lock and freeze. His grip slips and he cries out as he has to throw his arm up again, grappling and feeling his broken wing scrape painfully along the edge as he breaks through and finally lands on his stomach, pebbles digging in, water running all around him.

By the time he manages to drag himself to the riverbank, laying down and staring upwards, he realizes all the trees are gone. He had seen a stump, sure - but…they’re all gone. He sits up in wonder and stares around at the carnage that surrounds him.

There are no trees standing. Just snapped trunks or roots thrown entirely from the earth, piles of shredded branches and trunks on the ground, leaves all long since burnt to ash by the rush of heat that Killan had been hidden from underground.

Being trapped down there, he realizes, had saved his life.

Once he’s out of the river, the ground feels warm, like cobblestone streets after a long and sunny day, despite the darkness and the cool air. There are no stars, clouds roiling thick and dark above him. The air reeks of bitter, acrid smoke, and when he takes too deep a breath, he can taste it on his tongue and coughs until his lungs join the rest of him in aching.

He stands slowly up, turning and looking towards the mountain. There is a bright orange glow in rivulets, like rivers of fire winding down the sides, that’s all.

And the mountain seems… shorter than it was before. Smaller, on one side and at the top. As if aware of his regard, it rumbles, the ground trembling once more under his feet.

Killan backs up, one step turns into two, three, and then that becomes a flat run, winding around the trees and grinding his teeth against all his aches.

The fae in him knows what direction to go, follows unconsciously the earlier flight of the birds. Maybe, he thinks, the mountain will calm once the monster is no longer hiding in her forests. Maybe this was merely to throw him out, to send him fleeing under the softly singing stars. Maybe she felt such loathing for this abomination in her woods that she would destroy all the trees just to rid herself of his contagion.

Maybe even this is all his fault, for being something everything but the stars seem to regard as profane.

Even nature throws him out, unwanted.

So he runs.

Like always, he runs alone.

@quirkykayleetam , @whumpallday , @whumppsychology , @doveotions , @broken-horn-blog, @hackles-up @whumpfigure @whump-only , @just-strawberry-jam , @loopylunacy @raigash @whump-tr0pes @astrobly @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings

For whumptober @whumpworld

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enigmawriteswhump · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023

Safety Net | Swooning | How Many Fingers Am I Holding Up

No: 1

Evanshi closed her eyes, even while she was the last of her tribe who should be trusted with meditation. And yet here she was. Curled legs, a simple, relaxed posture. But that thrumming energy couldn't sit still, her anxiety confined to to all but the flexing of her toes.

Why did Modar have ever believed she had potential in this area of study? To converse with the living and the life? To hear words of rippling bark, if one knew just right. Not heard, but to sit and know the yew tree behind her was whispering of fellow dangers, of orangisms trespassing against their roots, or leaping from arm to arm with little claw marks left behind. A remnant of the wood's passengers.

To be able to feel the sensitivity of the dark cylinders of bark, curled around the unscavenged center... To be able to feel the herbal remedies between each root, and know which fungus grew - just on the way the breeze flowed. To read the earth as if she were also a sapling, taking root and sampling what this earth had to offer.

Bogus. The lot of it.

Modar had never wanted her to succeed.

Evanshi let her hands slide from her lap, the bitter smile hard to keep away. This, these small strands of grass beneath her - all she could feel was the tickle against her soles. Not some hocus pocus druid magic. Still a fresh wound, knowing the truth; knowing she disappointed her mentor even now.

"Did you find it out here? What you were looking for?"

His voice caught her insidiously, and she startled, whipping her head around.

A low snarl ripped from her throat.

Evanshi felt the trill of fear, even as she rose lithely to her feet, light on her toes. Ready to pounce, or dart away.

"Catch you off guard?" Kazian's grin slipped through his nocholance. The long, beautiful wings curled outwards slightly, an expression of his proposed boredom.

She didn't believe it, not with the glint in his eyes.

"Why must you make me do all the talking? You sound like a rabid animal when you refuse to speak." he managed to step closer, while grimly inspecting his sharp, unbitten nails. Near talons, except for chipped nature of them.

A warrior clothed in littered, unspoken secrets.

She narrowed her eyes, unwilling to bite back. His baiting meant nothing, even if her pride prickled even so.

Evanshi knew the wise move was to kneel without flare, to snark back with a hint of sharp banter, wait for his hand to come and lift her head. To lean into the tenderness and pretend her feelings weren't flooded with his touch.

That she would be saved his game, if she bared her teeth threateningly, he would see a smile.

Her lips moved back, scowling.

Kazian huffed, rippling his wings in a flutter of irritation.

"If you are not being the elf I knew you were, we must treat you like the prey you've become." his lips retreated in that snarl, the look he gave her oppressive as he roamed down her body.

"Now run. Run," he took one more step, and his wings lifted, a bronze cloud blotting her light.

"Run, before they get you, little fox." his eyes darkened, and the playful spark dripped into ominous cruelty, "Run, for when I get you, you surely will not be able to reply."

***

Her attention snapped to the beat of her heart, like Isbasal's fastest fire-drumming, branches underfoot crushed as her passage erupted harmony.

Dipping between branch after branch, a silent fox as she could be, apart from the almost-humanoid howls which followed her. His favourite game - chase, hunt, kill.

She had naively assumed he wouldn't let his ire consume him. But with each wide wing-beat above the forest, the very real trickle of terror slipped down her legs. No, no, he couldn't - he was waiting for something. He had been for months!

She couldn't die like this, a head on a table, blood which dripped onto his curling nails as her eyes stared lifelessly above. She couldn't be the leg bone his heathens drank from. Not now. Not when she had been so brave. Had hidden her terror for so long.

"Oh Evanshi! Where have you hidden my little one?" his voice bellowed from above, a laugh crackling through the treetops. By Silas he'd suddenly sounded much closer!

Her mouth forced a wheeze of panic, her time confined unused to such a sprint. Each breath had too little air, each step sent a spiralling spike to her side.

Oh by Silas' crooked blessings, there was the tree!

With a last step, Evanshi pushed herself to the bark of the tree, inhaling moldering earth, and willow's green fingers ticking her neck.

Her fingers moved into the threads of hundreds leaves, her strings of fate as she tested their weight.

A stem of one snapped and she bit back a breathy curse, even as air trailed from her mouth and the appendage landed against her wrist.

These Willows were not the ones of home. She didn't have time to pinpoint the location of pain that sparked at the knowledge, but evaluated the hulking girth of the trunk.

Just maybe...

She was no acrobat, but even with her uneven gait, she gave her best leap into the tree branch's grasp. Using the extra strands she'd pulled down to loop around the other side, she used the multitude to haul the rest of her body onto the branch, large gasps echoing from her that she tried to stifle with a sweat-laved hand.

The eerie howls of creatures almost-human trickled to her ears, and she struggled to remain calm with her hands as sticky as they were.

Deep breaths, he can't smell you. He can't smell you.

The bark bit angrily into her thighs as she saddled the branch, waiting the howls to quiet, before she shuffled to the trunk.

Wrapping her arms around the tree, as best as she could manage with its width, she slowly rose to her feet. There was a moment where she froze, hearing that distinct snap of wings, a curling voice which had found her even in her most peaceful dreams, until it disappeared.

A sudden, treacherous weight lifted from her gut.

Tonight, tonight she would be safe nestled in the bowed nest of the tree trunk.

Even while she was proud to remember such a hiding place, she knew it was only a matter of time before they found her.

This was his safety net.

Kazian would have never let her into a real forest, after all.

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mmmmmmmmicrowave · 2 months

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I wish I knew a blog for like.. whump advice/help

I have the methods and whatnot, but I don’t entirely know my whumpers motive. They’ve mutilated fae whumpee in ways to make them closer to ‘human’ (docking their ears, cutting off wings & tail, sanding down horns & claws, mutilating hooves, removing fur, etc)

But I have no idea why they’re trying to make them look human! I’ve just been having them give reasons like “to make you pretty” and whatnot

At the same time I feel like whumper is a collector of oddities

Maybe something about the fae disappointed them? They figure if they’re no better to them than a human, they should look human?

Tough stuff, glad this character isn’t around too long in the story so I don’t have to worry about the motives making too much sense

#whump #whump help #I CANT TAG ALL RIGHT NOW #mutilation tw #kidnapping tw #fae whumpee #collector whimper

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 2 months

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Whumper drugging Whumpee up so they're super docile and out of it for when the other whumpers come over for a whumper party. Whumper's guests take turns cooing over Whumpee, petting them, holding them in their laps and feeding them little treats like pieces of fruit or chocolate. The whumpers fighting for the adorable Whumpee's attention, however limited it may be. Now imagine Whumpee is a human and the whumpers are all fae.

...should I write this?

#whump prompt #fae whump #fae whumper #human whumpee #whump #pet whump

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hurtthemgently · 2 years

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Pt 6

Masterlist

Cw: intimate whumper, restraints, non con touching and kissing, whipping, non con drugging, vampire whumper, faerie whumpee.

As the initial prickly feeling of the venom faded, they tried to move their limbs. After a few minutes of straining against the numbness, they only managed to shift their weight a couple inches

All the while they thought about the choice Ceran had given them. They couldn’t give up their name. It was their only protection, with it their captor would be able to control even their movement. He’d already abducted them and often kept them under the effects of his venom.

They could take some hits with the crop. Couldn’t they? Their mind went back to the welt on their side. It burned, and they were growing less sure by the second.

Ceran hummed to himself, replacing the panel on the hot tub. The cloud cover filtered the sunlight enough that he wasn’t weakened, and he was easily able to do the repairs necessary. Maybe he could install a glass or mesh cover. Both to filter the sunlight and to let his faerie have some time outside. But he’d have to make sure they didn’t bother anyone he hired to install it.

To do that he’d need their name.

It was about time to check wether they’d give it or not.

They sat with their arms chained above them, just where they were when he left. Their head lifted when he opened the door, but they couldn’t move enough to turn and look.

He circled in front of them and lifted their head in his hand.

“Ready to decide?” He wiped a tear from their cheek and cupped the side of their face.

They looked up, their eyes sparkling with tears, and a sob wracked through their shoulders. Their terrified cries were muffled by the gag.

Ceran pressed a gentle kiss to their nose and untied the gag. “So what’ll it be? Just a few simple words, and we can get you out of these bindings.”

He moved closer, breath warm against their ear. “Or, I can beat you until you can’t scream anymore.”

“Please- I- I won’t.. I’ll do anything, anything you tell me. Just-”

“So give me your name.”

“I-” They lowered their head, shaking. “not that. I can’t d- can’t do that”

“Well since you’re not giving me your name, I guess it’s the other option then.” Ceran picked up the crop, and held the end under their chin.

The first strike went just above their knee, and they let out a sound halfway between a scream and a gasp. More strikes, up and down their legs, stopping at the hem of their shorts.

Another on their forearm. By the time Ceran got to ten, they were trembling. They gasped, quick and shallow breaths that didn’t give them any reprieve.

“Do you want a break?” They weakly nodded, and Ceran ran a hand through their hair, ruffling the curls.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting. It’s not too late to change your mind. Pick the other option.”

After a moment they were able to steady their breathing somewhat, and they looked back up at Ceran. “Please s—” they sobbed “please stop”

“You know exactly what to do to get me to stop. The pain is your choice”

“I— I won’t” they took a deep breath, trying to steady their shaking. “I swear, I’m not going to give you my name.”

They put what little power they could use into their voice, and Ceran heard it. They wouldn’t be able to break this vow for as long as the power they stored in it lasts.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” He stood and held back the crop, his amusement completely gone, replaced with frustration.

They flinched as the crop hit right on their cheek, and, despite their best efforts, they started sobbing anew.

#whump #intimate whumper #whump writing #captivity whump #vampire whumper #fae whumpee #drug whump #whipping tw #restraints tw #non con drugging #non con touching tw #non con kiss

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