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purple-heart-x · 1 year

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A Trade- Chapter 12

Hello everyone! Long time no write! It’s a bit of a short chapter, but I really wanted to give poor Spite some comfort. :) Feel free to let me know what you’d like to see next! :D (seriously, i thrive on interaction or just random comments if you have any)

I’ll try and continue writing this coming week!!

-Joy

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Tags: @redwhump, @whumpsday, @equestrianwritingsstuff, @stuck-in-this-mortal-form, @shydragonrider, @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

Almost an hour later, the villain's eyes opened once more, immediately going wide and frightened when they landed on Aki and Isaac. Isaac stood first. "Hey, buddy... It's okay." When he received a terrified whimper, he just nodded and hushed the boy on the bed. "Shhh, I know. You can be scared if you want, that's alright. But I really need you to drink something. If not water, can you drink some juice?" he asked, holding up a bottle. Spite whimpered, back aching as he looked at the bottle. It looked closed- sealed. Shakily, he managed a nod. "Good, good. Here," he said as the bottle's seal cracked loudly open, "I'm going to hold it up for you. Drink as much as you'd like." Spite shivered leaning in for a tiny sip before cringing back. When no attack came, he hesitantly unfroze, squirming forward again to drink, eagerly now. Desperate, even. Who knew if they'd be kind enough to give him mercy again? Before he knew it, he'd drank the entire bottle. "Good. Good. You're okay now." He didn't dare meet the hero's eyes. Just nodded, keeping his head down. "'M sorry... Please don't hurt me," he wept. "No, no. We won't. We're here to help." He didn't believe it for a second, just shivered and nodded. Better to play along until they told him what they really wanted. "Are you cold? In pain? Hungry?" That was the other one. Yoru. "We want to help you feel better." He had to be joking. Everything hurt. Yes he was cold. And on fire at the same time, still, burning deep in his skin, in his spine. He shook his head instead. "I'm sorry," he mumbled again. "That's alright. You can get as much rest as you need. We'll be here to help you, okay? We won't interrupt except to check the wounds and make sure they don't get infected." "Y-Yes, I- I will. Please... D-Don't bring me back." his voice felt rusty, out of use. Something landed over him and he jumped. "Blanket," Crimson said gently. "You're not going back there. I promise, we're not here to hurt you." Spite shuddered, accidentally tugging on the restraints in an attempt to hug himself tighter. He only realized they'd noticed when he heard a faint zrrrrp sound and a flash of pressure on his wrist. Yoru was looking at him, holding the restraints. "We had to use these to keep you from thrashing and hurting yourself. Now that you're more lucid, we don't have to use them anymore. Right?" He nodded hastily. "R-Right, I- I promise, I'll be good, I w-won't do it again," he sniffled. He didn't understand why Yoru was looking at him with a touch of sadness in his eyes. "That's not what I meant, Spite." The villain didn't have time to reflect on what he meant. "Are you comfortable in this position? Do you want help to shift?" Spite shook his head again. It didn't hurt too bad now. He didn't want it to start again. "Um, c-can I please sleep? I promise I'll s-stay still..." Aki hesitated. "Here, hold still for a minute?" Gently, carefully, he laid the back of his hand on the villain's forehead. Letting out a hum, he nodded. "Better than before. Yes, you can sleep. Sleep as long as you'd like, Spite." Spite tried to thank him, leaning into the touch. Really, he did. But halfway through the words his eyes dulled and slipped closed, arms going limp as they pulled the blankets tight around him like a shield.

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remember-to-be-gentle · 2 years

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Hey hey hey can I get a kind of mean aizawa so like he's a Dom and reader is well u get it but when he comes home from work he's pintup so he👉🏾🤏🏾👅💞💓😽😩💦🍑 reader's kit cat

Subject: BNHA, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead

Title: YandereSpace Chp. 3.5: Failed Test

Trigger Warning: Non con, yandere, kidnapped darling, escape attempts, restraints, cunnilingus, daddy kink, biting, implied brat tamer

“You’re not happy to see me?” Aizawa palmed himself through his pants, already half-hard from work. Pinning villains, using his capture weapon, working up a sweat--all of it got him excited. And knowing you were at home waiting for him made it all worthwhile.

Although, your behavior had been pretty rotten since you woke up bound to his bed--after he'd kidnapped you some time back. You had been an ungrateful little brat. He’d even changed the sheets for you, made sure he had lots of toys to please you with, and even stocked the fridge with your favorites. He tried being gentle at first, but honestly, he liked the idea of punishing you more. Most days, however, he just did what he wanted.

Aizawa didn’t hold back, greedily eating at your cunt, sloppy and messy. Your juices caught in his stubble, covered his chin. Listening to your sweet little whimpers and moans only spurred him on. He didn’t know how long he’d eaten you out or how many times you’d cum, but by the time he considered himself “satisfied” the sheets under your pussy were much darker. Aizawa licked his lips staring at the mess.

Like right now. Aizawa was on his knees, his hot mouth breathing against your exposed cunt. “You didn’t look happy when I came through the door,” Aizawa purred. He teased your delicate skin, nipping his teeth at the soft flesh of your ass. You bucked away from him but that only let him get better access to the soft skin of your ass.

He placed a kiss to your clit, watching you squirm against the restraints on your wrists and ankles. “Maybe you’ll get more excited when I make you cum.” He dragged his tongue across your entrance, relishing in your sweet taste.

He untied your restraints, keeping himself between your legs, before slowly sliding into your cunt. Instantly, you grabbed his arms trying to ground yourself. Aizawa purred in your ear, his big hands grabbing your ass and working your hips against him. “You’re so fucking wet, angel.” He nipped at your ear. “You like how daddy fucks you that much? Huh?”

You mewled, trying to keep him appeased, but when Aizawa got like this, there wasn’t much you could do aside from letting him have his way.

“God you’re so fucking soft,” he snarled. “Fit me so perfectly. Just for me.”

His hips stuttered as his first end rode up on him. “Can’t wait to fill you up. My good, sweet girl.” His grip on your hips tightened, fucking you rougher and rougher until his seed spilled inside of you, balls squeezing every last drop of cum into your insides.

Aizawa groaned then, sinking down on top of you. “You’re mine,” he groaned, “all mine.” Slowly, Aizawa pulled his cock out and got off you, to lay on the bed. His eyes fluttered closed and his breathing slowly evened out. But he wasn't actually falling asleep. Aizawa knew it was cruel to do, but he had to test you.

You misbehaved each time he let you go and each time he has to punish you. Some days he hoped you'd misbehave, though, give him an excuse to fuck you silly like the little cum dump you were. But mostly, he wanted the comfort of knowing he could trust you.

And when you slipped out of bed, running toward the front door, Aizawa grabbed his capture weapon. Another failed test. At least you’d be fun to punish.

#raven writes #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere eraserhead #male yandere #yandere x reader #tw non con #tw yandere #tw kidnapping mention #tw escape attempt #tw restraints #tw daddy kink #tw biting #tw brat taming #not my best work but here

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coffeegranate · 2 years

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long time no post! finally got around to finishing season three jon for your amusement

definitely didn’t post this on the wrong blog twice nope

#my art #digital art #tma #tma jon #tma nikola #jon sims #jonathan sims #nikola orsinov #tma s3 #tma spoilers #tw kidnapping #tw kidnap mention #tw restraints

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whumpbump · 6 months

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Cw: manhandling and restraining, describing the death of Whumpee’s mother, gun mention

Whumpee had been rescued and was recovering in a hospital. They had no assigned Caretakers yet and were in the hands of the hospital staff.

Because they had no assigned Caregivers, Whumpee was essentially ignored aside from bandage changes and other medical needs like bathing. Even while eating, the staff left Whumpee alone.

With no one to talk to or engage with, Whumpee began to crave attention in the worst way. Especially hugs. They hadn’t had one of those since, since before they were taken! They remembered their mother who would always give them hugs as they came in the door and as they left. But that didn’t matter anymore. Whumper took care of that, placing a bullet cleanly between her eyes as they dragged Whumpee, screaming, from their home.

Whumpee shuddered as the memory came and faded. They hated thinking about it, about her fate, and began to sniffle. They missed their mama.

A doctor and nurses entered the room. “Hello, it’s time for bandage changes.” ‘Wow they couldn’t even use my name,’ Whumpee thought, annoyed.

They sat on the bed and removed the blankets. As one of the nurses began to remove the bandages, one was stuck on a scab and Whumpee jolted. “Sorry,” she muttered. As she went to continue, Whumpee pulled away, not wanting to feel the sensation of tearing again. The staff looked at each other and then at Whumpee. The doctor spoke up and warned “You need to hold still.” The nurse continued pulling and Whumpee began to howl in pain as the scab was torn from Whumpee’s leg. Whumpee became more antsy and pushed at her arms to get her away. She wasn’t doing it right.

The doctor hit the call bell and two nursing assistants entered the room. “Please hold the patient while we resume the bandage changes.

With a nursing assistant on each side, Whumpee was stuck. However, as the staff changed the bandages and cleaned up their newly opened up leg, Whumpee couldn’t help but feel compelled to sit quietly as they had a warm body on either side of them, squeezing them tight. It felt almost like a hug in a strange way. It reminded them of their mother and they felt safer.

‘I could get used to this.’ Whumpee began to make a habit of fighting back exclusively so they could have a nursing assistant sit with them. They did so at baths, bandage changes, hell, if they were able to have a staff member with them, they would fight until they had it.

In a staff meeting, the doctor and nurses were trying to figure out what had caused the change in Whumpee’s behavior as this would be the opposite reaction that is seen in someone getting better. The easier the bandage changes and the more cognizant the patient is, the better it should be. They began to discuss potential psych meds to put them on and to have them sedated during any medical intervention.

One of the nursing assistants spoke up. “What if they’re just lonely?”

The doctor brushed aside the thought and continued to discuss four point restraints.

The nursing assistant spoke up again. “I’m serious. I think Whumpee is lonely. Have you noticed that once someone is with them or touching them, they calm down?”

The doctor hesitated. The nurses hesitated. “What do you suggest?” They asked.

“Well, one of us could keep them company throughout the day and be there for bandage changes and meal times and baths and everything that they need done. Realistically, they need a Caretaker. Has the social worker assigned someone to them yet?”

“Well, no, as a matter of fact. We were trying to wait to get them to a healthier place. I see what you’re saying though, they need engagement. Talk amongst yourselves to assign someone to them for this week and we’ll see how it goes.”

After the meeting, the nursing assistants planned out a schedule so someone would always be with Whumpee.

The next morning, after a nursing assistant brought Whumpee their breakfast, they pulled up a chair and sat down. “Mind if I hang out? We thought you might be lonely. Until we can get you a Caretaker, we’ll be keeping you company.”

Carefully listing while chewing their toast, Whumpee nodded. This sounded great! And it was great. With someone to talk to, Whumpee blossomed back into who they were. They made more progress in physical and occupational therapy, had support for bandage changes, and improved overall.

By the time Caretaker was assigned and showed up, Whumpee was in such great shape that they were ready to pack up and take them home. Whumpee cautiously reached out and held their hand as they walked to the car. Caretaker looked down and squeezed Whumpee’s hand with a gentle smile. ‘I think I’m gonna be ok.’

#whumpee #whumpblr #whump blog #whump ideas #whump #whump inspiration #whump tropes #caretaker x whumpee #cw major character death #cw gun mention #cw mcd #cw restraints #tw manhandling #tw restraints #tw gun mention #tw mcd #touchstarved

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actress4him · 11 months

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June of Doom 2023

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch

Day 9 - “I should have listened to you.” | Sprain | Defiance | Smoke

Contains: lady whump with male whumper, captivity, restraints, beating, stress position, mild blood, implied starvation, head trauma, hair pulling, death mention, broken ribs, dislocation mention, brief dog and master imagery

There isn’t much to see in the basement. Lainey inspects every concrete block, every crack in the foundation, every plank on the steps, every lock on the door, and finds absolutely nothing useful. It still feels better than just sitting around, though. Not that she’s blaming Isa for sitting, she can’t even help it with that chain around her neck. That thing makes Lainey want to punch something every time she thinks of it. But she also has a feeling Isa wouldn’t be helping her look even if she could get up and move.

It doesn’t take long for the man to return. She’s just come back down the stairs from checking out the door when the locks start to slide open, so she spins around and plants her feet, glaring up at their captor, trying to ignore the way her heart is suddenly threatening to break through her ribcage.

He’s not much to look at, either. Just an unattractive, scraggly bearded man, like someone you might see loitering outside a gas station and walk quickly past on your way inside. For good reason, apparently.

“Have you come to let me go?” she demands as he starts down the stairs. “To let us both go?”

He scowls back at her. “I see you haven’t yet learned your lesson about keeping your mouth shut.”

“You think I’m going to listen to you? Some low-life who gets his kicks from kidnapping and chaining up young women?” He’s getting closer, and part of her wants to back away, but her pride and anger won’t let her. “I bet you’ve never had a girlfriend before, have you? Probably never had any friends at all. Is this the only way you can get anyone to hang around you? Locking them in your basement?”

She sees the swinging fist coming, but can’t get out of its path. It smashes into her face with a force that sends her over backwards, head cracking against the wall as she hits the ground. Her vision cuts out, then comes back swirling and spinning. There’s something bitter and metallic pouring over her lips. It takes far too long for her to realize that it’s blood.

As she sits there, stunned and in pain, the man advances. He grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her up off the floor, dragging her toward the center of the room. Her feet stumble clumsily after him.

“I told you to shut up. You’ll figure out I mean what I say sooner or later.”

He throws her down, and she just barely keeps her head from smacking concrete again. Her arm isn’t so lucky, unable to move from its restrained position and getting crushed between her body and the floor.

For an instant, she sees Isa, sitting directly in front of the assault. She has her head turned to the side, staring off at some unknown point, face blank.

Then a boot is buried in her stomach. Lainey doubles over, coughing and gasping for air that seems to have vanished. The man doesn’t wait for her to catch her breath, though. He keeps kicking, pounding the toe of his boot into her ribs and back and legs over and over and over again. She curls up as best she can, trying instinctively to protect her organs, but all she can do otherwise is lie there and groan and sob.

It seems to last forever. Part of her thinks she actually might die right then and there. But then the kicks stop. He reaches down and grabs her by her bound wrist, pulling her backwards across the floor. She moans again as her shoulders bear the brunt of the pressure and as every sore part of her is jostled.

He drops her again, and a chain rattles behind her. A moment later her wrists are being pulled upward once more, but this time the chain sounds accompany it, and this time it doesn’t stop. They keep being dragged up toward the ceiling until she’s forced to move, scrambling with leaden limbs to get her feet underneath her and stand. The chain seems to be hooked to the ziptie around her wrists. She can’t straighten her back or lift her head, shoulders wrenched as far backwards as they’ll go and wrists stuck up high.

And that’s how he leaves her. He doesn’t say another word, just walks off, footsteps echoing through the nearly empty room. She cranes her head to the side to see him pick something up off the stairs before disappearing up them.

She’s never been in this much pain in her life. Before now, the worst pain she could remember was a broken arm from her highschool softball days, but between her throbbing head, her burning shoulders, and the fiery pain that shoots through her ribs every time she breathes, this is way worse.

“That was my food.”

She tries to look over at Isa but can’t get her head to lift that high. “Wh-...what?”

Isa’s voice grows a little louder, a bit higher pitched. “He was coming down to bring me food and water, and probably unchain me, and you screwed it all up disrespecting him like I warned you not to.”

Lainey scoffs, hardly believing her ears. “Do you…do you realize…you sound like a dog right now? Waiting for your…master to feed and water and unchain you?” She winces at the increased pain in her ribs that talking creates, trying to shift her position. “And…I’m the one who just got…beaten up so…pardon me if I’m not overly concerned about your food.”

“And whose fault is that?” It comes out practically a growl, the most emotion she’s heard out of her so far. “I told you not to make him mad. I told you it would get you hurt. I’ve been here for five years, remember? I’ve tried it all before. I’ve figured out how to survive. But if you don’t want to listen to me, fine. Refuse to save yourself any pain. Learn everything the hard way, like I did. Just…can you at least leave me out of it?” Her voice wavers at the end, going quiet again. “I haven’t eaten in days, because he was gone to get you. And the two bottles of water he left me ran out hours ago.”

Isa sounds like she’s about to cry, and Lainey finds her own throat tightening in sympathy. She hadn’t meant to rob Isa of her first food in days. She wants to help her, not cause her more trouble. But she’s being an idiot, isn’t she? The woman’s right, she’s managed to survive for five years, and it’s stupid for Lainey not to listen to her advice, no matter how much it makes her skin crawl to think of sucking up to that man.

“I’m sorry.” She tries again to look at her, and manages to catch at least a glimpse of her face. “I should have…I should have listened to you. You’re right, it’s…my own fault that I got hurt. And I didn’t think about…you suffering from it.” She pauses, breathing through the pain and thinking about her response. “I can’t…promise that I’ll do exactly what you want. I’m not good…at holding my tongue. But, uh…I’ll try.”

There’s silence for a long time. It’s a struggle for Lainey not to find some way to fill it, despite her painful position.

“I don’t want you to have to go through everything I have,” Isa murmurs finally. “And I’m…honestly terrified that you’re gonna make things even worse. Keeping on his good side is so tentative. I just want to keep things as…easy as possible. For both of us.”

“Yeah,” Lainey breathes. “I, um…I get it.” She considers her next words carefully before deciding to take the leap and say them. “Hey, do you…still have the water bottles?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you roll one over to me?”

“They’re empty.”

“I know, just…just do it if you can.” She can hear movement and the slight crackle of thin plastic. A few seconds later an empty bottle rolls to a stop several inches from her foot. “Hey, nice shot. Lemme just…” Very carefully, grimacing with each movement, she steps on the heel of first one sneaker, then the other, removing them and kicking them behind her. Then she strategically uses her toes to pull off one sock, too. Isa mutters warnings about dislocating her shoulders here and there, but Lainey is determined to make this work.

Stretching out the bare foot, she drags the water bottle closer. “It’s still got drops of water left in it, so if I focus, I can…” She lays her foot across the bottle and closes her eyes. This is much easier to do with her hands, but the foot will have to do in a pinch like this. It takes almost a full minute of concentration, but eventually the droplets start to grow, dripping down into the bottle. The process gets faster as it goes, until there’s water swirling all through the bottle, filling it.

“There we go.” Satisfied with her work, Lainey takes careful aim and shoves the bottle back in Isa’s direction. “I can’t make you food, but…I can at least do that.”

“Water magic.” The plastic crinkles in Isa’s hand again.

“Yep. I’m…not very skilled at it, but…expanding water that’s already there…isn’t so hard.”

There’s no answer for a moment, but it sounds like Isa is taking a drink. “Thank you,” she says softly when she’s done.

“Yeah,” Lainey replies, equally as soft. “No problem.”

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distinctlywhumpthing · 1 year

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In League — A Lucky Blunder

Masterlist

Summary: The boys finally caught their rival gang's spy but something about him has their leader intervening in his punishment. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

CW: Late-19th century, explicit language, kidnapping/abduction, nudity (non-sexual), restraints, bruising from implied beating, whipping, scars, torture/interrogation, taunting of prisoner, multiple whumpers, dubious caretaker.

A high-pitched keening wound its way through the house.

Wyatt paused, pencil hovering over his place in the row of numbers. It was early evening. Sunlight entered the window at a low angle to cast long shadows through yellow-orange light. The boys would be winding down from the day which meant they were winding up for the night.

“Tommy?” He called for Frankie’s lad, the portrait of his ruddy-haired father in miniature. A child of about ten years who was always close at hand, ever-keen to make a farthing running errands. Especially if he could smugly tell younger boys later that he wasn’t at liberty to divulge the particulars. As though he was the rare child-confidant of the entire gang. He did have a fair pulse on what was going on, if a little slanted by the perspective of his youth.

Another cry, twisting all the way upstairs, most likely from the cellar two floors down. In the house—their house—not a thing could transpire unnoticed, such was the size and layout. Wyatt liked that. All was within reach and what one could hold in the palm of his hand, one could command.

Although, his appreciation and pride were diminishing by the second as the cries continued and grew more insistent. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh and almost ran his fingers through his hair before he remembered they were smudged with graphite from doing the books.

“Tommy!”

Finally, a clatter and then short, snappy strides as the child scrambled across the kitchen and up the stairs. “Yessir?”

“What is that fucking noise?”

Tommy swallowed, trying to catch his breath. “They found that man. The one ‘tipped off Keats.”

“Is that so?”

About a month ago, a beggar had shown up on their streets. He’d seen the man in question himself—more of a boy really, no more than twenty—huddled outside the door of the pub and shuffling around the streets covered in a ratty blanket.

Around the same time, a number of plans had been mislaid. At first, it had seemed only as though they’d mismatched their timing. Until one night, when they’d had a raid planned on a warehouse, expecting just a few guards and found its owner—one of their biggest rivals—Keats, had two dozen waiting instead.

It had nearly cost two boys their lives and one still had a bullet in his shoulder. They had pulled the usual threads, made sure to reassess the loyalties of certain parties. The beggar, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. No one thought twice about an urchin disappearing. But then, a handful of days later, Jack’s sister had seen the very same accompanying none other than Keats himself.

A short ten days later, here he was, apparently paying for his trickery in the cellar, having finally been apprehended.

No one noticed Wyatt coming down the stairs. All backs were turned, including the one getting belted. Their captive was stark naked and covered in grime with patches of bruises darkening along his ribs. His wrists were tied together and hooked over his head so that he was forced onto the balls of his feet. From the looks of it, he’d managed to bear his due reward silently for a not-insignificant length of time. Raised welts crisscrossed from the back of his neck down to his calves. It was plain by the scars on his back that this was not his first beating. Not much of a distinguishing feature around these parts.

Alfred was winding up for what would no doubt be the first lash that drew blood. The rest of the group surveyed from a loose half-circle, some sitting on overturned crates and others leaning against the soot-blackened walls. Wyatt hadn’t been down here in ages, couldn’t say what was in half of the cobwebbed crates stacked in the corners. The air in the cramped space was beginning to smell pungent, cigarette smoke clinging to the ceiling in spite of the open street-level windows.

Wyatt put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs. He waited until Alfred was about to strike. “What’d you find, lads?”

At least one of the men jumped, a few others sat up just a fraction straighter. Alfred let the swing fall short. Only the tail end of the belt met its target, who hissed as another welt rose on his pale flesh.

Wyatt wasn’t the oldest nor was he the longest-standing member. The group operated mostly by consensus but he was indisputably its leader. After all, he had been the one to rescue this house of cards from collapse before they had completely lost control. He’d recast the senior members into roles that didn’t require temperance and recruited younger men to fill the ranks instead. The younger the better, hungry to prove themselves and yet to develop the arrogance and pride that had prevented their predecessors from changing with the times.

They had swiftly replaced brute force and standoffs in broad daylight in favour of subtler methods, refocusing on activities with higher turnovers that required a fraction of the effort and didn’t put them atop wanted lists. Half the city was still under the impression the gang had in fact collapsed and retreated back to the slums.

Alfred turned, face as red as the skin he’d just been beating raw. Either from the strength he was putting behind his arm or from feeling caught. He wasn’t the type to come up with the first idea himself but was always the first to volunteer to carry another’s. “It’s Keats’ spy.”

“We finally caught up with him,” someone else chimed in, making a few others chuckle.

Frankie sauntered over to clap the accused-spy on the shoulder, making him tense. “Just having some fun.”

That earned a few laughs from the audience and the boy ducked his head as if to hide.

Wyatt cleared his throat. “Come on, let us have a look.”

As Frankie made the captive turn on his toes, Wyatt was struck by two things.

The first was the curious wound on the soft side of his hip, looking as though someone had inexplicably carved a piece of meat off him not long ago.

Secondly, and more notably, Wyatt was struck by the fact that this was altogether a different boy.

Part II

Together/Apart taglist: @painsandconfusion @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @whumpy-writings @maracujatangerine @whumptakesthecake @subject-v @susiequaz12 @writer-reader-24 @whumpinthepot @wormwriting

#whump #whumpee #whump writing #multiple whumpers #dubious caretaker #captivity whump #torture whump #interrogation whump #prisoner whump #restraints tw #captivity tw #beating tw #nudity mention tw #burns tw #loss of consciousness tw #kidnapping tw #institutionalized slavery tw #abduction tw #smoking tw

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 1 year

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Harvest Moon, half-awake: Where am I?

Sun: Welcome to your penance.

Harvest Moon, feeling the restraints: What…? *tries to move his hand* Let me out. *tries to pull on the restraints*

Sun: No.

Harvest Moon, panicking: Let me out! Please! Let me go! I’ll stay, just let me out!

Sun: No.

Harvest Moon, hiding in a corner: Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #sun and moon show #sams #fnaf harvest moon #fnaf sun #incorrect sun and moon show quotes #incorrect sams quotes #incorrect fnaf quotes #incorrect quotes #source: my brain #tw trauma mention #tw restraints mention #tw isolation mention

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nat-1-whump · 6 months

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🐗 Monster transformation whump

Fantasy whump ideas no. 5

(Huge thanks to an anon for suggesting this, it turns out there's more whump potential for this than I thought! Sorry for disappearing for... Four months, I think?)

Speaking of transformation, why are they being turned into a monster? Maybe Whumper injected them with a strange serum, after kidnapping Whumpee and taking them to some sort of lab, where Whumpee found themself strapped to a table surrounded by blinding white lights. Or Whumper cursed them with some sort of magic, having spent hours researching the most potent and painful spells to do so, maybe even with the intention of feasting on Whumpee's life force or using them as a puppet of sorts. Alternatively, Whumper didn't do anything to turn Whumpee into a monster, but they enjoy Whumpee's pain nonetheless... Because Whumpee actually brought this curse on themself.

The transformation itself is physically agonizing. Whumpee writhes in pain as their body twists and contorts into a new creature. Scales, fangs, or fur grow in feeling like they're stabbing through Whumpee's skin, slowly ripping them apart. Their head feels like it's full of hot lead. They plead with Whumper to make it stop, but to no avail. They're forced to feel every part of their body warp into something unrecognizable.

Monster Whumpee now has urges that they never had before. They crave meat, they want to smash through walls, rip things to shreds, you name it. Whumper taunts them, telling them to go forth and follow these urges like the beast they are. Whumpee suppresses these urges out of fear of hurting anyone, possibly begging Whumper or Caretaker to restrain them, or doing so themself. Once restrained, the urges bubble up even more and they find themself begging to be let go.

Eventually their feral nature gets the best of them. They break free, and in unleashing themself they unleash destruction. It's as if they're being dragged into it by forces beyond their control, their vision turning red. By the time they regain control of themself, Monster Whumpee has to face what they've done as a puddle of blood spreads across the ground before them.

Monster Whumpee gets treated like a dangerous animal, nothing but a threat to contain. Maybe their captors don't know that Monster Whumpee used to be a person... or they know but simply don't care. Whumpee begs them to let them go or help them turn back, but nobody will. They have to listen to gasps and camera clicks as they're hunted down.

Monster Whumpee gets shot with a tranquilizer dart. Their limbs feel like they're full of lead. They collapse on the ground, slipping out of consciousness as they're tied up, muzzled, and hauled away. (Muzzle whump my beloved...)

They wake up bound completely, every limb tightly wrapped in leather and chains. A thick muzzle over their face feels like it's suffocating them. Their restraints force them into a kneeling position on the dirty concrete floor. Whumper circles around them, tracing their finger along Monster Whumpee's skin. Monster Whumpee can't move in protest, though the anger and defiance still forces its way out in the form of muffled growls.

While desperately trying to escape, Monster Whumpee gets injured. With nobody willing to go anywhere near them, let alone treat them, they end up trying to treat their wounds themself, which may make the injury even worse.

Whumper agrees to protect Whumpee, but only if Whumpee lets Whumper use them as a subject for a series of tests. Though Whumper may initially claim it was for research and nothing more, it becomes more and more apparent that Whumper gets a thrill out of torturing Whumpee and recording the results. This may end badly for Whumper though. After all, what makes them think they can keep this monster contained indefinitely?

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depressed-werewolf · 2 years

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Supervillain walked down the hallway with Villain close behind them. They unlocked the door to the cell revealing Hero curled up on the floor with their hands tied behind their back. Supervillain stepped inside. “You ready to talk yet?”

They didn’t answer, squeezing their eyes shut and looking away. Supervillain knelt down and tilted Hero’s head up, pulling a knife from their pocket. Hero’s eyes widened.

Villain moved before they could even think, pressing their own weapon against Supervillain’s throat.

“Touch them and I’ll kill you.”

They smiled smugly. “I’d like to see you try.”

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whumppmuhw · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 31: Crying, truth serum*

tw: restraints, choking, magical whump, noncon drugging (sort of? forcing someone to drink a potion), interrogation, betrayal, torture mention

*alternate prompt

Halloween whump!

...

Whumper sat down at the small table with a bag of candy. He dropped it on the table with a thump, catching Whumpee's attention.

Whumpee's eyes went wide, and he started salivating. The food Whumper had given him was so bland, and he bet the candy tasted like heaven.

"Oh, this caught your eye?" He chuckled, and grabbed a piece. "I love Halloween. Trick or treat, Whumpee?"

"Treat...?" he answered hesitantly, knowing full well that none of Whumper's games ever ended well. He was extremely aware of the ropes digging into his skin, keeping him from grabbing the bag of candy and feasting on it.

"Good choice." Whumper was unwrapping the candy painfully slowly, making it known to Whumpee every second of his enjoyment. He popped the small chocolate in his mouth, with an "Mmmmm" and a "Ohh, that's good." Chewing it slowly and thoroughly, watching as Whumpee's mouth gaped.

He couldn't take watching it anymore, thought he knew he probably shouldn't. "May I-may I have a piece?"

He looked at Whumpee thoughtfully.

"...please?"

"Sure, why not. Open wide." He walked over to Whumpee, wrapper in hand, and shoved it down Whumpee's throat.

He started choking and sputtering, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. His throat started to burn, and he tried desperately to get the wrapper out.

Whumper grabbed another candy to unwrap, dropping the confections in one hand and shoving the wrapper into Whumpee's throat, pushing the first down again with it.

He coughed up the wrappers and pushed them out with his tongue, tears flowing down his face. "Y-you can stop now," he sobbed when the worst of the choking stopped. "I don't want any more candy-" His voice hitched on a cough, and Whumper backed away.

"Okay, then." He popped the candies in his mouth and picked another piece from the bag. Whumpee was relieved to watch him place the wrapper on the table. "You said you wanted a treat, so how about something to wash it down?" He pulled out a small glass vial from inside his jacket. The vial itself was beautiful, with its faceted sides and smooth curves, but the liquid it carried was a gorgeous bright green.

He didn't trust Whumper, but he couldn't struggle as Whumper unplugged the vial and poured its contents into his mouth. He swallowed, not wanting to anger Whumper by spitting it out and wasting it.

He sat down again, picking up a clipboard and pen he kept in the room. "Halloween is a great time, for things like witches and spells and potions. That lovely little drink was a gift from my friend, and her work is quite magical."

He had heard rumors of witches in his area, but no one had ever dared to interfere with one; they were too powerful, too unpredictable.

"Let's see how well she did. How did your colleagues infiltrate this place?"

"They briefly stole a key so they could copy it, and entered on a night when nobody, including the janitor, was working there. Our hacker took down the cameras from our base so they could move freely." It was a question he would have never answered. Yet it slipped so easily off of his tongue, and he couldn't stop it. He immediately felt deep pangs of guilt and regret and bit the inside of his lip.

"Wonderful," he stated, jotting down notes. "The truth serum seems to be working great."

Truth serum? Oh no, oh no no no. Fuck, I don't wanna betray everyone!

"Let's continue-"

"No, I don't want to continue, I'd be betraying my friends- well, I think of them as friends, I really don't know how they feel about me. Oh, and I really don't want to let down the guy I like, he doesn't know I'm bi, but I really like him and hope he'll go out with me. Plus, they're all I have, if they kicked me out I'd have nowhere to go, they've been helping me pay my rent." What am I saying?

"Ha! This is much better than I thought it would be. Look on the bright side, Whumpee, you keep this up and maybe I won't have to torture you anymore for answers."

"Honestly, part of me would be okay with that, I hate torture, and I'm so scared of you. But I want to stay loyal to my friends, and I don't want answers to just roll off my tongue, like the way-"

"Whumpee, that's enough," he said sharply, cutting Whumpee off. "Let's get back on track. I want to squeeze as much out of you as I can while this dose lasts. Why, exactly, did your team want to break in?"

Here we go.

#mine #ailesswhumptober2023 #whumptober #whump #crying #truth serum #bisexual whumpee #restraints tw #choking tw #magical whump #noncon drugging #interrogation #interrogation tw #betrayal #betrayal tw #torture mention

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little-peril-stories · 3 months

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Febuwhump Day 14 - Blood-Stained Tiles Floor

From The Prince of Thieves:

“Am I hearing this correctly?” Hatchett is snarling, his eyes spitting fire. “The boy thinks he deserves the cheater’s way out?”

The sensation of my torn shoulder splitting further, spilling more blood down my arm as I am hauled to my feet makes my head spin.

“Back to where you belong.” Hatchett chuckles as they drag me back toward the cell, but there’s no humour in it. His nose is streaming, brilliant red to match the blood soaking my clothes. If I survive, which seems to be what he intends, I know I’ll pay dearly for that bloody nose later.

“Why don’t you just fucking kill me?” I hate myself for the note of panic that’s leaked into my voice. Blood keeps flowing from my wound, staining the floor—another layer of gore that’s been left behind from the past century of pain and misery. Joining the blood of everyone else who was here before me.

“Do you think you’re getting off that easy?” The cell door opens. “Do you think you get to die before you’ve paid for your crimes?”

#febuwhump #lps the prince of thieves #blood stained floor #blood #tw blood #chains #chained #tw restraints #shackles #failed escape #prison whump #whump #whump writing #febuwhump cheater #death mention #tw death mention

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otterfrost · 2 months

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whump stuffs: gift edition

Sept sat alone in their room, missing their best friend. They stared at the photo on their phone, the last photo they had before their world fell apart three months ago. Standing in front of a really cool boulder, their best friend, Kylie, standing next to them, a big grin on her face like she normally had.

"Sept?" Sept's mother whispered as she entered the room. "I have a gift for you,"

Sept stood up and followed their mother out of the room, not speaking.

Their mother took them down to the basement, the place that Sept was never allowed to go.

Their mother opened a locked door with a key, and on the other side, a thin figure sat in the corner, her wrists bound behind her, a gag in her mouth, and eyes covered with a tight strip of black fabric.

"Happy birthday, Sept."

The person looked in the direction of the voice and let out a muffled scream.

"Go talk to her," Sept's mother coaxed.

Sept glared at their mother, this was needlessly cruel, the poor girl.

Sept walked closer, and in the dim lighting, the person slowly increased in familiarity beyond the scars.

Sept pulled the gag out and pulled down the blindfold, then hugged Kylie.

Kylie wriggled out of their grip and whispered, "Please, Master, I swear, I did nothing wrong, your son didn't see me, I swear, I swear, I-"

She broke into a sob and Sept's mother grabbed her and shoved her into the wall and snapped, "Why did you let him take off your gag you little brat!"

"Stop!" Sept snapped. They shoved their mother away from Kylie and grabbed the oddly light form of their best friend and ran out of the basement, then shut the door behind them. They threw their weight against the door as they set down Kylie, and Kylie stared at them weakly, not acknowledging them.

#whump #im just bored and have covid sorry that this is kinda bad #tw restraints #tw captivity #tw implied torture #tw abuse mention #gift whumpee #not a prompt

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 1 year

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Moon, visiting all his bunkers: Eclipse?

Eclipse, who has been imprisoned in a bunker by Sun for a year now: *fearful whimpering as he hides as best he can restrained by chains*

Kill Code Moon: MY SON! Let me see my son!

Moon: Are you okay, Eclipse? How long have you...?

Eclipse, who has been mentally broken for a year now: *whimpering thinking he’s Sun visiting again to check the chains and restraints*

Moon: Eclipse?

Eclipse: Don’t turn the lights out again, Sunny? Please? The shadows are scary! And...And there’s bugs and rats! They keep touching me! I wanna go home, Sunny! Let me go home! I miss my Dad! I want my Dad!

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depressed-werewolf · 1 year

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Whumpril Day 20: “Where am I?”

tw: implied torture, implied kidnapping, knives, interrogation, implied drugging

When Whumpee woke up, it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the light. They were in a dark room with cement floors, a basement maybe. They couldn’t tell.

When Whumpee tried to stand up they found they couldn’t. They were bound to the metal chair they sat on with their hands tied behind their back.

“Where am I?”

“Jesus, I was starting to think you’d never wake up,” a voice said from the corner of the room.

Whumpee squinted in the direction of the voice but their vision was still foggy. A figure took a step toward them, and when they stepped into the light Whumpee recognized them immediately.

They scrowled. “Whumper. What do you want?”

They smiled back. Whumper’s smile was cold, there was no real joy in it. “You know why you’re here.”

Caretaker. Of course. They gritted their teeth and glared up at Whumper. “I don’t know where they are.”

Whumpee chuckled. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I. Don’t. Know. Where. They. Are. You’re wasting your time,” they spat.

The other tsked. They were clearly annoyed with Whumpee’s defiance, but Whumpee didn’t care. Whumper didn’t scare them, or at least Whumpee pretended they didn’t.

“Let’s test that, shall we?”

There was something metal in Whumper’s hands. Once they got, closer they realized it was a knife. Whumpee’s vision made the blade look twisted and warped.

Immediately, Whumpee’s heart began to race, though they refused to show it. They knew not to show fear. They wouldn’t break, Whumpee told themself. They would not break. But Whumpee had no idea how wrong they were.

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froggywritessometims · 6 months

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heres a bit (more like a lot actually) of what i wrote tonight for NaNoWriMo.

Tw, mental hospital, restraints, forced sedation, mention of suicide

When she starts asking me about how I plan to kill myself after she makes me rate my suicidality on another scale of 1 to 7, I stand up, “I’m going back to the commons now.” I tell here. Why does she think she gets to know everything about me? she’s some stranger with a degree, what gives her the right to question me like this? “Wait a minute Kai-“ “No thank you I’m leaving.” I say cutting her off halfway through her sentence as I walk to ward the door, but she’s faster and gets up and shoves herself in between me and the door. She stands there trapping me inside saying “How about we talk about your writing? the nurses say you’ve been writing a lot lately.” She’s trapped me in this tiny room and expects me to just talk to her. “Get out of my way.” I tell here trying to hold back all the anger and fear that’s been building up over the past week, but she doesn’t budge instead she opens her ugly mouth again “one moment Kai, that’s just talk first; ok?” what part of this does she not get? “Let me out now.” I tell her again, noticing my hands have formed into fists without me telling them to. “I’m sorry Kia just one moment, ok?” she says again trying to hold me in this tiny room, “No! let me out right now!” I scream at her. She ignores the desperation and fear in my voice and just continues to hold me captive barricading me from the door with her body. I shove her hard to the side where she topples over with a yell, and I swing open the door as fast as I can and run across the commons and start banging on the big double doors as hard as I can trying to escape. I’m going to run home and let everyone out, I’m going to get home, I’m going to escape these people, these doctors.

Before I know what’s happening a nurse has body slammed me into the wall and he’s holding me there with his full strength, I scream and scream but no ones going to help me, my friends have been herded off into their rooms and locked away and everyone else is a nurse or a doctor or a therapist or a security guard here to hold us captive under the guise of saving us from ourselves when all we need saving from is their abuse. The wall is hard, and I am being crushed against it. I can feel my lungs having the air squeezed out of them and then someone pulls down my pant and take off my underwear and I kick and kick and kick trying to defend myself from these people but suddenly I’ve been stabbed in the butt and my strength fades away so fast and I go limp, I can barely keep my eyes open and the suddenly I’m gone.

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