#tw implied torture

[vebokki]

bingge's visit to his favorite prisoner

#i was going to color this but....................i dont want to #also different hairstyle + clothes + mole on other cheek = bingge #svsss #luo binghe #人渣反派自救系统 #svsss fanart #mxtx #scum villains self saving system #blood #tw implied torture #wooooooo #ask to tag #btw no nonc*n or anything like that just good ol torture

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Mahito x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1'745

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapped Reader, Captive Reader, Implied death and torture (not reader), Brief descriptions of blood, Possessiveness, Implied abusive behaviour.

Additional Notes: Ya girl gets chronic nightmares, so I'm being self-indulgent here.

Nights like these were always rough.

It was cold. Cold enough that you could see your breath every time you exhaled, and you wrapped your arms around yourself for an additional layer of protection against the frigid air.

The sound of the hammock’s ropes resonated throughout the empty chamber of the sewer, creaking as you rocked it back and forth. The hamstrings in your calf had begun to burn over an hour ago from the repetitive motion of pushing from the heel of your foot to the ball, but that didn’t stop you from doing it. Back and forth. Back and forth. Each motion accompanied by the sound of rope straining under weight.

At times you swore the weight of sleeplessness added onto your actual biomass.

He wasn’t there. Mahito usually wasn’t when you woke up like this. Cold. Tired. Achy. It almost made you miss him, but the sane part of you that remained was thankful for the absence.

He had already seen far too many sides of you for your liking. Him seeing another would be… well. Gut-wrenching was always a good way to describe it, but violating came closer.

Back and forth.

Part of you wondered where he went in the evenings. Curses didn’t sleep, and he typically got his fill of you during the daylight hours, so - as far as you knew - once you drifted off he was gone in favor of unleashing whatever horrors he desired to inflict that night. Sometimes you’d hear distant screams echoing along the vast expanse of the sewers, and you knew he wasn’t far.

Those nights you folded the single pillow in the hammock over your ears and muffled the sounds of suffering to the best of your ability.

But there were no screams tonight. Just the creaking of the ropes and the distant drip of water from a leaky pipe.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Mahito’s sudden voice from behind startled you so badly that you over-calculated the rocking motion of the hammock and sent yourself spiraling onto the concrete floor.

A new sound filled the air - his degrading, overzealous cackle bouncing off the walls while he held an arm over his stomach, doubling over at the sight of you.

“Look at you, you should see your face!”

The tired glare you sent him only earned another round of laughter and you sat up with most of your weight supported behind you on the palms of your hands.

“I thought you went out.”

“I did~.” He said, reaching out and pulling you back up to a standing position by your upper arm once he was finished with his laughing fit. “And now I’m back.”

You hummed lowly in acknowledgement, brushing bits of idle debris off your clothes using your free hand but stopped when his grip tightened on your bicep.

He leered closer to you, the hot rot of his breath hitting you directly in the face.

“Well?”

You swallowed. “Welcome back.”

He grinned, teeth flashing in the dim lighting before he pulled you with him, falling backward into the hammock with you between his legs, back resting against his chest.

It was deceptively domestic, especially when he ran his fingers up and down your arm absentmindedly. The additional warmth of what little body heat he provided did not help in the delusion, either.

“Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“I know that.” He poked your cheek, the nail of his finger digging into the soft skin and leaving a crescent moon shape. “I asked why.”

You shrugged, not giving a verbal answer outright, but the sigh that followed gave away far more than you intended to.

Mahito clicked his tongue and put his hand under your chin, forcing your head to tilt back so you had no choice but to look at him. It was a little awkward with the semi-upside-down positioning, but things like that were never of any concern to him.

“Details, sweetheart, stop stalling.”

You made a face at the pet name he had chosen for this week. It was tacky and tasteless, but in your opinion anything he picked was. That being said, it was better than what he had chosen the week before.

“I have nightmares, okay?”

His face filled with child-like wonderment and he let go of your chin. A small grunt of relief left you and you rubbed the back of your neck while Mahito repositioned the both of you so he could look at you better - slotting you beside him.

“Poor little thing gets nightmares…” He cooed mockingly, running a hand through your hair. “Am I in them?”

It took everything not to sneer at him. Of course, that would be the first thing he would ask. Not that you were surprised, but that didn’t lessen the near-overwhelming desire to kick him in the teeth.

You forced your feelings down and shook your head. “Not all of them.”

His smile returned, eyes gleaming at the subtext of your words. “But I have been.”

You cringed and went to look away from him, but his cool fingers wrapped around your jaw and brought your gaze back to his.

“What happens in these dreams?”

“A lot.” Your answer was clipped, not wanting to offer more, but his grip didn’t waver. Your jaw clenched. “I can’t remember all of them.”

“But you remember some.”

“Some are hard to forget.”

He pulled you closer - wrapping his arms around you so you were completely trapped against him in an embrace that made your skin crawl.

“I’m all ears~.”

Your lips formed a thin line, the silence and tension between you growing ever palpable with each second you remained quiet.

Mahito sighed, tracing patterns along your back, but his amusement never wavered. “Do I kill you, is that it?” He let his fingers slide up along the upper half of your spine, dragging them across your shoulder blade and back down again before repeating the motion. “Do you beg me for your life like you’ve heard so many do before you?”

He giggled and ran his other hand along your jaw, “You can tell me~.”

A shiver went through you, from the cold you reasoned, but you still stayed quiet - not willing to confirm the small yet horrifically accurate details of his guesses. 

Anything you feared him doing to you in the waking world, he’d done in your dreams. Killing you. Maiming you. Making you wish you were never born, but really that one was a constant even when you weren’t asleep.

He chuckled again at the silence and patted your cheek, “So predictable, I wonder if that’s what you dreamed about tonight for you to be so mousey…”

The near-hopeful curiosity of his tone had your stomach in knots and you swallowed bile.

“It wasn’t.”

“Hmm?” His expression fell, a bit of disappointment shifting onto his face but it was quickly overtaken by interest and the patterns being traced along your back came to a stop. “What was it then?”

You made a face. “Does it matter?”

“Oh, sweetheart, yes it does.” Mahito squeezed you tighter, the look on his face a little… manic. “I want to know what’s going on in that little mind of yours.”

He tapped his fingers twice against your temple in emphasis, each time making you flinch a little bit. “Spill.”

Your tongue darted out to moisten your lips, the skin already chapped and dry before you had even begun.

“It’s a reoccurring one, and it’s always the same.” You started. “I’m in a building that has endless halls and endless rooms. There’s no light coming from an obvious source, and it doesn’t illuminate everything - leaving some parts in complete black.”

Mahito raised an eyebrow, seemingly not very impressed so far, but you continued.

“There’s no exit. No way of getting out. Any emergency exit leads to another hall, and any stairs that would lead to the roof are sealed off by a wall that shouldn’t be there.

“None of the rooms are the same. Some are harder to get into than others and they don’t have a door. I have to crawl on my belly or shimmy my way between two panels that are so close together that I can’t even breathe as I move through them…”

Even the memories of the claustrophobia made you shiver.

“Sometimes the rooms are… coated. Absolutely coated in blood, but there are never any bodies. It’s thick and hot, like it had just been spilled…”

Mahito huffed, toying with a strand of your hair. “Doesn’t seem that bad, I thought you’d have thicker skin after all I’ve done to you.”

That made you both flinch and cringe, but it was quickly overtaken by a wave of anger and you shot him a look. “You asked.”

The words were bitter - doing nothing to mask the sickeningly real sting of hurt you felt.

“Now, now, don’t be like that.” He cooed, holding your chin between his thumb and index finger. “Go on.”

Your frown deepened and you shook your head. “That’s essentially all there is to it.”

Mahito sucked on his teeth and tsk’d. “‘Essentially’ isn’t everything, what are you leaving out?”

The look on his face was still one of morbid interest, but you could see the impatience starting to build behind his eyes.

Impatience meant boredom, and boredom was never good.

“...As I move through the rooms, I sometimes feel like I’m being followed by something, but when I look back there is nothing there.”

Something more serious replaced the look in his eyes in the time it took to blink. “By something or someone?”

“I don’t know!” The frustration fully bled into your tone for a moment and you cleared your throat after a beat. “I just know I can feel whatever it is watching me, sometimes so closely I can feel them breathing down my neck…”

You rubbed your neck in discomfort as if you could still feel it. “It stays that way until I wake up…”

Mahito was silent for a bit, his expression not changing and he gripped you to the point it was painful. Controlling.

Possessive.

Eventually, his grip loosened, but only enough so he could slide his hand down along your neck, the touch lingering.

“Sounds like you need different dreams, then.” He said, cold fingers wrapping around your throat, but not squeezing just yet. Goosebumps blossomed over the flesh and this time you knew it wasn’t from the cold.

“I can help with that~.”

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

#riri writes #Mahito #Mahito x Reader #JJK #Jujutsu Kaisen #Yandere x reader #Yandere #tw yandere #tw implied death #tw implied torture #tw implied kidnapping #tw implied captivity #tw blood #tw possessiveness #tw abuse

[whump-about-it]

Can I Stay Here Tonight?

@whumpril Day 8: Bloodshot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I just need to borrow your bathroom."

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

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

"I should go check on them."

Roommate nodded in agreement.

"I'll put a kettle on."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[whump-in-the-closet]

“I looked everywhere for you—”

“Don’t. Don’t lie to me. You knew exactly where I was. You knew exactly who I was with and exactly what they did to me.”

“I tried to stop them.”

“You’re a liar.”

#whump #whumpblr #whump prompts #whump prompt #whump dialogue #tw implied torture #whump community #whump ideas #whump tropes #whump scenario

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw: implied torture

“[Hero], I– I’m so sorry…”

The hero doesn’t even look at the villain. Their head is bent, staring distantly at a crack in the concrete floor. “It’s okay.”

The villain had called the superhero’s bluff. Tried to, at least. They never thought a superhero could be so cruel to one of their own. But the superhero had been more than happy to prove them wrong, to make the villain watch him inflict nothing but agony on the hero until they’d finally spat out exactly what the superhero wanted.

The supervillain probably doesn't stand a chance now. They don’t care.

Even from their own dingy cell the villain can see the blood seeping mockingly through the hero’s shirt. Their palms rub together mindlessly like that’ll erase the crimson nightmare from their hands. They seem like they’re barely conscious, blankly honed into the tiny blemish on the floor like it’s a portal they’re waiting to open.

None of this is okay. The hero’s just saying that. The villain kind of wishes they’d just gone and died in the street like the supervillain had intended. At least that would’ve saved them both from this.

The hero is sitting on the floor, not moving except to scrub at their hands, but the villain is restlessly pacing back and forth. They have so much pent up energy from the last hour—it has to go somewhere.

“We’re gonna get out,” they say into the silence.

“We’re not.”

The villain turns to the hero a little harsher than they meant to. The hero flinches even from several metres away, and the villain’s heart crushes just that little bit more. “We are, [Hero]. We’re gonna get out and [Superhero] is never gonna touch you again.”

The hero makes some noise that is clearly meant to be a scoff but comes out as more of a broken sob. “Big dreams.”

The villain doesn’t bother commenting on that. “No window, no lockpicking.” They glance around for ideas. “No bribery, I’d assume. No help.”

“How long were you here before… we spoke?”

The villain pauses. “In prison? I don’t know, a few days.”

The hero frowns. The villain doesn’t like it. “Have you not tried breaking out before?”

“I didn’t think I had anything to live for before.” The villain carries on glancing around to avoid looking at the way the hero’s face twists like they don’t believe them.

-

“There you are, you little shit,” is the greeting the superhero gives the villain. “Your codes were bullshit, weren’t they?”

He glares at them expectantly. There’s a lump in the villain’s throat that words seem to be stuck behind. “I– I gave you what you wanted.”

“Like hell you did.” The superhero throws an aimless hand over his desk. The villain’s papers are all over the place, various scrawls across their pages in a clear attempt to figure them out. “Your so-called codes didn’t work.”

The villain’s mind is blank. That can’t be right. They gave him the fucking codes. He should be descending on the supervillain this very moment, but instead he’s here, claiming they don’t work—

“Wouldn’t want your special sweetheart to feel the consequences of this, would we?”

The villain’s gaze snaps back to where the superhero’s smirking at them knowingly. They want to smack that look clean off his face. He knows too much, and now he’s using it all against them. The hero is back here, suffering the fate they fell into the villain’s grasp trying to escape, and they’re back here because of them. The villain feels sick at the thought.

“I gave you the fucking codes,” the villain spits. “It’s not my fault if you’re too thick to use them.”

The superhero’s face momentarily twitches in hatred, but it doesn’t last long. “Not to worry,” he says smoothly. He waves a hand for the security guard at the door to step forward. “I’m sure I can get an answer out of you pretty easily, hm?”

For a moment the villain can feel the burn of rope on their wrists, their throat sore, their eyes hot with tears of sickness and horror and guilt.

The security guard touches a hand to their arm, and before they can think about what they’re doing they turn around and punch him in the face.

The superhero’s on his feet immediately but the villain’s already moving. A quick boot to the middle keeps the security guard on the floor, and they meet the superhero at the desk without a thought. He tries to point a pistol at them but they butt it out of his hand, kicking it across the floor for good measure.

The superhero throws a fist at them and connects with their shoulder with the fury of the sun. The villain stumbles and the superhero’s confidence throws him in for a second blow. They dodge back, just, jabbing an elbow into the side of his face. The superhero staggers with an enraged cry and the villain leaps the desk to make for the gun.

It’s in their hand before either of the two can realise what’s happened. “Okay,” the villain says slowly. Their shoulder is throbbing but they have no time to think about it right now. “I’m gonna leave, and you’re not gonna say jackshit when I do.”

The superhero laughs, the sound wet with blood. “You won’t get far without death following you.”

“My paperwork’s still encoded. I’m not too worried.”

And with that they’re out into the corridor, more than happy to spend the superhero’s bullets on anyone stupid enough to come near them.

An alarm whirrs, drooping the halls in flashing red light. They’re lost, unaccustomed to wandering the corridors alone, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll get to where they need to be. They just have to survive first.

“Don’t worry, [Hero],” the villain whispers, like saying it outloud is a promise. “I’m coming.”

(next part)

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns @morning-star-whump @epiclamer

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #the villains housekeeper #tw implied torture #today was my last day at work before crimmas!!!! #and tomorrows the crimmas partayyyyyy #and the break will be nice but god im mostly glad todays over lmao #why does everyone decide they want shit done 2 hours before the end of the last day before i disappear for a week #and why is it ME who has to sort it D: (it is my job to sort it) #the lie in tomorrow will be godly i know it

[serickswrites]

Save Them

Warnings: captivity, implied torture, threat of death

Villain couldn’t believe that Supervillain had ordered them to stand down. That they would not send out a rescue mission for Hero. After everything Hero had done for them in an attempt to stop Superhero from destroying the world. 

Of course the mission had been a failure, but Hero made sure that Villain, Supervillain, Sidekick, and the whole team got out. They just didn’t get out. And now they were at the hands of Superhero, most certainly being tortured to death. 

“We have to go!” Villain shouted at Supervillain. 

“And do what exactly? Die? Hero gave us this one last chance to stop Superhero. Don’t let their sacrifice be in vein!” Supervillain said dismissing Villain. 

Villain left the briefing room, but they didn’t head to their quarters. They weren’t going to do as Supervillain ordered. It wasn’t right. 

“You’re going after Hero, right?” Sidekick said as they barred Villain from entering the weapon’s bay. 

“Someone has to.” Villain tried to brush past their apprentice, but Sidekick blocked them further. 

“You’re going to try to save them alone. You can’t do that.” Sidekick’s words were laced with concern. 

“Somebody has to! By the time Supervillain is ready with a plan to save Hero, Hero will be dead. I can’t let them die. I can’t live with that on my conscience.”

“You’re going to die, too, Villain.”

“Better me to die trying to save them than let them die alone because of me.” Villain shoved past Sidekick and didn’t stop. They were going to save Hero. Defeat Superhero. And they were going to prove everyone wrong. 

#serickswrites #writeblr #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw captivity #tw implied torture #tw threat of death #hero #villain #superhero #supervillain #sidekick #hero x villain #hero x supervillain #hero x superhero #hero x sidekick #superhero x villain #superhero x supervillain #superhero x sidekick #villain x supervillain #villain x sidekick #supervillain x sidekick #hero x villain community #queue

[whump-mania]

nice to see you again! 💖💖💖 my request for a prompt is…perhaps something to do with social whump and shunning? 👀👀👀 perhaps a person not getting the healing they need because they’re disliked for some reason. 🥺🥺🥺 - newbornwhumperfly

Whumpee thought that things would be okay after they’d escaped. For months, they’d been a tortured prisoner of the enemy team, and they’d finally gotten out with their own will and brute force after realizing no one would help them.

However, when they got back to their own team, they were met with scowls and indifference.

“I hadn’t even noticed you were gone.”

“Better you than any of us, I guess.”

“Well you’re back now, aren’t you? Get back to work.”

“What did you tell them? You better not have leaked anything.”

“You came back here and you don’t even have useful information? You’re better off with them.”

Whumpee searched for any sympathy, any semblance of someone who cared about them, but no. It was almost the same as the ones who’d captured them in the first place.

They were forced to cope alone, with no one to talk to and no one that would listen. Whumpee knew they wouldn’t heal that way: they were a lost cause.

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whump writing #whump scenario #team whump #tw implied torture

[effen-draws]

Actual new art? On my blog?? It's more likely than you think!

Anyways I recently played Inscryption and I LOVED it so have some fanart with some bonus alternative versions!!

#inscryption #inscryption fanart #I'm stronly pro-wizard pupils and anti-magnificus #I mean who let that guy have students?! #magnificus #lonely wizard #pike mage #goobert #inscryption spoilers #tw blood #tw injury #tw dismemberment #tw implied torture #illustration #fanart #effen's art

[writing-biting]

IT HAS BEEN A WHILE since I've drawn something for @nerves-nebula 's neglected AU, but the whole Krang-Donnie thing has me by the throat and my mind would not let me rest until I drew SOMETHING, so here's this!

(Extra doodles and lineart under the cut)

#teenage mutant neglected turtles #tm(n)t #tmnt donnie #tmnt krang #peppermint doodles it #tw medical abuse #tw implied torture #tw abuse #tw injury

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Whumptober Number 6: Proof of Life

look I wasn't gonna do whumptober but this one prompt had me like ahhhhh-- anyways he's having a bad time

#look i know its late and i haven't done anything else but i was very inspired for this one #may repost later with a better format #whump #whump art #whumpy art #whump comic #tw partial nudity #tw blood #tw bruising #tw implied torture #defiant whumpee #angst #captivity whump #whumptober2022 #proof of life

[dont-be-gentle-please]

The anticipation before the pain and torture. The heavy breathing, the racing thoughts or blank mind. Knowing there is nothing to do to get out of it even if whumpee would be willing to sell their soul for a safety or comfort.

#whump prompt #tw implied torture #implied torture #whump thoughts #and unfortunately I can't #write it because i don't have the skills

[cmmdrkote]

codywan reverse bang team #13: i should tell him i love him

The words fell away as Obi-Wan raised his head. He had been expecting another visit from Cetius only to find his Commander standing in the doorway. He blinked a few times, fearing he was merely hallucinating. “Cody?” “General.” The Commander stared for a moment, trying to think of what to say. I’m glad I found you in time. I’m glad you’re alive. I missed you. I was worried about you. I think I love you. “Did you need a rescue?” “Do you know, Commander?” Obi-Wan tried for a smile and a laugh that turned into a groan as his broken ribs made themselves known. “I just think I might.”

So, I'm unfortunately late (life and death happened) but here is 2/3 of my piece for CWRB '23! Obi-Wan has gotten himself into a situation, and Cody is annoyed and using that to cover up how worried he is.

i would like to thank the mods of @codywanreversebang Serie and Anon for their endless patience, my friends for getting me through a difficult time, and of course my amazing writers Kay @foreverchangingfandomsao3 and Mia who have written a fantastic story for this prompt that you can read here.

I'll see you all soon for Part 3....a Keldabe kiss is imminent 👀 Notes and close-ups sans shadows under the cut:

A consistent light source? Who? I've never heard of her in my entire life.

I swear I didn't mean for there to be Christ-like undertones (I'm not even Christian) but once I had Obi's pose laid out and the light focused on him, I was like "fuck I gotta commit to the space Jesus now".

I originally intended for this to have a much more cartoony style, but the shading on Cody's face got away from me and then I needed to match that level of realism for his whole body, which drastically increased the time taken and I had to scrap all my plans for Obi.

The pose/prompt and Obi's outfit are inspired by Crossfire by Brandon Flowers, a whumper's dream of a music video and also a bop. I had sketched something out about two years ago and ended up adapting it for this idea.

Obi is wearing suspenders and a dress shirt because 1. I hate drawing clothing and knew robes would suck 2. Brandon is wearing that outfit in the video which made an easier reference 3. Suspenders are hot 4. I needed to show the hairy chest

Clip Studio Paint can eat my ass, I'm never upgrading to their bs subscription model.

Ewan and Temuera are some of the most handsome men I've seen in my entire life and no I will not be taking questions.

Here are some close-ups because I want to show off what I did before covering it up with dramatic ass shadows:

#codywan #star wars #the clone wars #star wars art #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #obi wan whump #my art #my post #tw blood #tw implied torture #tw injury #i dedicate this art to the codywan reddit refugee and the user who called obi wan the pillow princess of warfare

[moondragon618]

Hc that c!Dream often traces the scars around his wrists and forearms that c!Tommy left when he took his third life, desperately scratching and clawing at Dream's hands around his throat as he slowly squeezed the life out of him. He finds it comforting, like a little piece of his beloved little hero that he'll always carry around with him, no matter how far apart they may be :)

Sometimes, when he's feeling especially stressed and alone, plagued by visions of shears and blood and screaming and phantom pains all over, he reopens them- often cutting deeper than they originally were to ensure that they will never, ever fade, the familiar pain reminding him of when he got them and how it felt to hold his precious little plaything's life entirely in his hands :) :) :)

#c!prime thoughts #ad infinitum :) #dream smp #dsmp #c!dream #c!tommy #c!primeboys #c!discduo #tw murder #tw strangulation #tw implied torture #tw self harm #tw obsessive behavior #tw possessive behavior

[whump-about-it]

"I Think I'll Keep My Name"

Febuwhump Day 1: Helpless (alt: Found Footage)

CW: captivity, implied torture, defiant whumpee, forced to watch (sort of), fear of death.

They'd found the tape in the enemy base. One among dozens. The tapes were all marked with names but no dates. Team Leader had started playing them at random. They never finished a single one. Only watching the first few minutes, to see the people's faces and hear them say their own names before turning them off and putting the next one in. If anyone were to ask why, Team Leader would have said it was to save time. They didn't need to see the whole footage; only know who to send it to. But the truth was it was to save their sanity. The prisoners were already beat up by the time they were forced in front of the camera. On some of them a guard would step in from off screen and hit them more before Team Leader could turn them off. They were sure there would be more where that came from if they continued to watch.

They were already on edge when one of their teammates nudged them, causing them to startle. When Team Leader met their teammate's gaze their face was stony. Without a word they held out one of the tapes to Team Leader. When Team Leader looked down at it they understood why their teammate wanted to look at this one specifically. it had Whumpee's name on it.

Wordlessly, the whole team gathered around the screen as Team Leader set up the tape with shaking fingers. It started out like all the rest. An empty concrete interrogation room with a light swinging over head off screen. Whumpee is brought in through the door at the back of the room and forced to kneel in full view of the camera.

The whole team gasped to see them. They were pale and thin. Someone had shaved their head and taken their clothing. The thread bare prison garb they were dressed in did little to hide the cuts and bruises that littered their face and body, and they walked with a limp as they were dragged into the room. Worst of all, their once bright eyes the team remembered them having, were blank and lifeless.

Whumpee had been missing for years. But it was impossible to tell if the video had been taken last week or when they were first captured. They looked so different from the person Team Leader remembered that they doubted they would have recognized them if their name hadn't been on the tape. But they'd seen people devolve like that in less than a week before.

"State your name." Someone off camera said sounding bored.

"You know my name."

Even Whumpee's voice was unrecognizable. Devoid of their usual mirth, or any tone at all for that matter.

"For the record."

Whumpee looked at the floor and shook their head. Their was the sound of movement off camera and some stepped in frame and hit Whumpee across the face.

"State your name!"

"No."

The guard hit Whumpee again, then grabbed them under the chin and forced them to look at the camera to show a new weeping cut on their face, and a bloody nose.

"Don't you dare talk back! State your name."

Whumpee's blank eyes flashed with something. Not emotion necessarily, but something Team Leader recognized. Their heart sank even before Whumpee opened their mouth again.

"Or what?" Their voice was still a monotone. Still low and small. But they had stopped their captors in their tracks. "You'll kill me?"

There was a long pause where nothing happened, on or off the tape. The whole team watched with their hearts in their throats as the guard on camera turned around to look at the person behind it, apparently looking for direction.

"You've taken everything else from me already" Whumpee continued "I think I'll keep my name."

Everything went from zero to one hundred very fast after that. The guard on camera swung back around and hit Whumpee with such force they fell over. Several other guards appeared in frame and began yelling and kicking them as the camera shook as though it had been hit. Many members of the team cried out. Some in shock. Some in anguish.

The youngest member of the team, the only member who hadn't known Whumpee, had the ware-with-all to reach over and stop the tape to spare the others. Everyone else fell into a stunned silence, looking back and forth at each other, waiting for someone to say something.

"I can finish reviewing this one on my own." the youngest member finally offered.

"Back at base." Team Leader agreed. They didn't even try to pretend any of the rest of them would be able to handle what they might see. They were more concerned about trying to hide the frog in their throat. "Collect all of the tapes and any paperwork and lets get back. We need to find out when these interrogations happened. Some of these people might still be alive."

Whumpee might still be alive

They added silently.

I doubt it though. Now more than ever.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday1 #found footage #I think I'll keep my name #tw captivity #tw implied torture #fear of death #defiant whumpee #whump #whump drabble #whumblr #whump writing #sorry this was supposed to be shorter

[asliceofzosan]

a royal disaster

Good assassins aren’t supposed to get attached to anyone. But Zoro has never wanted to be associated with the riff raff in his line of work that think themselves god. He’s sure that if any of these other assassins met Sanji, their worldview would shift. Their lives would be flipped upside down and they wouldn’t get up. If they just had a glimpse of Sanji’s smile they would understand. Because he wants to protect that smile more than he wants to rid the world of shitty people. Zoro was tasked to kill the Prince of Germa — but he decided that night to be bad at his job.

please read the tags for this one ! i tried my best not to make them too detailed but i can't really catch everything. this is VERY angsty. I didnt hold back at all for this one. so you are more than okay to skip this if u dont want smth mucking up ur holiday cheer hehe

but if u decide to read now or later, enjoy !! i did have fun writing this. despite my slowly depleting sanity. : D

My AO3 Account

Track the tag!

#one piece #roronoa zoro #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #tony tony chopper #red leg zeff #roronoa zoro x vinsmoke sanji #one piece fanfiction #zosan #niki's log: 12 days of zosan christmas #tw implied torture

[raineandsky]

#56

tw: implied torture, implied violence

The villain makes a run for it.

They would, anyway, if they weren’t limping. A nasty gash in their leg is slowing them down, and with the way this evening is going it won’t even get time to stop bleeding before it doesn’t matter anymore.

Things are changing. Villainy used to pay well, had long prison sentences at worst. Now, fuck, now—

The villain’s coat catches on the decorative metal swirl of a nearby bench. A string of ugly curses fall out of their mouth as they turn back to pull at it, praying that the fabric will just untangle itself. They don’t have time, fuck, not now, please not now—

“[Villain],” a voice calls from the end of the road, like someone spotting an old friend. A figure casually meanders towards them, receiving another series of equally undignified and justified expletives. The figure steps closer, closer, closer.

The villain yanks at the hem in one final desperate attempt to free themself. The fabric chooses then to rip loudly, throwing them to the cold pavement mercilessly. They scramble to right themself. The fall has wasted precious seconds. The figure has closed the space uncomfortably between them, even though they know it means nothing.

Fuck, they’re so tired. They got into a fight they realised too late they couldn’t win. They fled the scene in the hopes that they could return to their base and recover. Their enemy didn’t give them the time of day. They’ve been tailing the villain for almost ten minutes. Not getting too close, not chasing them. Just following.

“I feel like a tiger or something,” the other says casually, though the villain can barely hear them over their own panicked, erratic breathing, “and I’m just waiting for my prey to get tired and lay down.”

They laugh—they fucking laugh. Heroes are fucking sadistic now. They don’t have long anymore. They’re exhausted, hurt, fuck, they’re scared. Terrified. They’ve heard about the fates of some of the more recently disappeared villains. They don’t want to go the same way as them. They can’t.

“[Villain], come on,” the hero calls again, and the villain tries desperately to block them out. They’re horrifyingly close now, just close enough to send a chill down their spine. “You’re making this a big thing that could’ve been over ten minutes ago.”

Panic is flooding everything, forcing the villain to keep moving despite the fact they can’t, they can’t. Every part of them is trembling, forcing them to hone in on the echoing click of the hero’s shoes against the concrete behind them. They’re still keeping their distance, waiting for the villain to make a wrong move before truly closing in. It– it’s fucked up. The hero’s like those killer whales that toy with seals for hours before they inevitably eat them.

The adrenaline can’t keep them going forever. They take a step and their knees buckle, sending them tumbling onto the jagged concrete again. Gravel digs into their palms. They know the moment they hit the ground that they won’t be able to get back up.

That doesn’t stop them trying. They let their hands feel the sharp edges of the pavement below them as they desperately try to pull themself up. They move tediously to get their legs under them, but they can’t. Fuck, they can’t, they’re trapped here.

The footsteps stop a little way away, like the hero wants to respect their space. What a load of horseshit that is. “[Villain],” they try again, and the gentleness of their tone is almost believable. “[Villain], please, stop making this difficult.”

The villain laughs, a sort of pained, choking sound. Tears are threatening to spill, blurring their vision. “Oh, it’s difficult for you?” they demand, their voice scratching in their throat. “It’s hard to kill someone who doesn’t want to die, huh? How tragic that you had to look someone in the eye and see their last emotion be– be fear.”

Those footsteps start clicking again, and every survival instinct kicks in at once. “N–No, fuck, no, I’m sorry—”

A hand digs through their hair, harshly wrenching their head back and earning a raspy cry. They don’t have the strength to stop it anymore. They can’t stop it. Fuck, it’s scary. They want to go home.

“Look, [Villain], it’s nothing personal, a’ight?” the hero says, pointedly ignoring the wet streaks already painting the villain’s cheeks. “It’s business. You know how it is.”

“I’m– I’m sorry, please, I– I’ll never do it again, I swear I—”

The hero shushes them like they’re calming a thrashing animal and not a human they’re about to execute in the street. The scrape of an unfolding metallic blade cuts the air, the sound soft like it was meant to be a secret. The villain makes one last vain attempt to free themself. Their lack of energy only lets them grasp desperately at the hero’s hand in their hair.

Something cold rests against their neck. A despondent sob escapes them. They don’t want to die. They can’t die. Fuck, there’s no way out. They’re going to die.

“Hey, hey, [Villain], it’s okay.” The hero’s voice is hushed. “I’m not gonna kill you, a’ight? This is all just part of the song and dance. You made it difficult, so I have to act like I at least tried to catch you.”

The villain chokes back another sob rising in their throat. “Y–You tried?”

The hero hums absently. “Yeah, agency’s always gonna wanna see a seasoned villain on their knees, right? If I can take you in, we both look how the agency wants.”

What? No, this isn’t right. Heroes always kill villains. They think back as much as the terrified fog in their mind will let them. The disappearing villains. The heroes. No, no, they can’t be—

“You and I are gonna head back to the agency now, a’ight?” the hero continues. They finally let go of the villain, letting them collapse to the ground again. “I have some friends that’d really like to see you. You’ll have a little interrogation, tell us what you know. Easy.”

The villains before, they– they always disappeared into the agency first. For weeks. They were always found bloody and broken afterwards. Fuck, god, no—

The hero bends down to them, their hand latching onto the back of their coat. The villain makes another futile attempt to free themself, but they don’t have the energy to try anymore. They’d cry if they had the strength to.

“[Hero], please…” Their voice comes out in uneven stammers. “Please, I– I swear I’ll never, ever do this– any of this again, please, I– I can’t—”

“Of course you won’t,” the hero says casually. “Agency’s a good place. You’ll come out a changed person.”

Fuck, as if the villain doesn't know that. They wish the hero had just run that fucking blade across their throat. It would’ve been better than wherever they’re about to go.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #whump #tw implied torture #tw implied violence #me yesterday: hm. how many fucks can i put in a story #the answers 13. new record i think #13 fucks in a snippet and yet none given aha