#whump story
18-branding
CW: branding, intimate whumper, non con kissing, pet whump.
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***
Victor was called up to Alexi’s office. He expected another night of kneeling next to Alexi while he worked. when he got there Alexi wasn’t at his desk, instead he sat on a couch by the fireplace. Alexi beckoned Victor over. Victor knelt by his side. Alexi played with his hair for a while before suddenly standing up. Victor watched him warily.
“Come here and Lay down on your back.” He said softly
Victor did as he was told. Alexi sat on top of him straddling his waist.
“What are you-“
“Hush.”
Alexi unbuttoned Victor’s shirt. Victor shivered despite the heat of the fire. He followed Alexi’s hand with his eyes as he reached towards the fire. That was when he noticed the branding iron.
“Please don’t” Victor cried “please I’ll do anything you want just please don’t do this.”
Alexi just shushed him. And raised the iron over Victor’s chest, lining it up over his left pec.
“Now don’t move. I want this to come out nice and clean.” Alexi demanded.
“Please don’t” Victor sobbed “please”
All he could do was scream as the blazing hot iron was pressed into his skin. The stench of burning flesh hit him in a wave.
Alexi leaned down and kissed him silencing his cries. It was horrible and disgusting and violating. All Victor could do was let the tears roll down his cheeks as he whimpered into Alexi’s lips. Alexi broke the kiss and licking a stray tear from Victor’s cheek. Victor shivered with disgust.
Alexi sat back up and pulled the iron away then dropped it in a waiting bucket of water.
“Good boy, you took that so well.” Alexi cooed as he ran his hand over the brand.
Victor’s breath caught in his throat at the pain of pressure on the fresh burn.
“I am not your property” Victor seethed “you had no right.”
“But you forget, my love, you are”
***
To be continued
Tag list (if you want to be removed or added message me) : @silverwhisperer1@cinders-and-ash@badluck990@wannabemonsterfucker
Prompts used: Dialogue, Middle of nowhere, Freezing, Lighter
Content Warnings: Alcohol, possible addiction to alcohol implied, being hunted, dubcon touch
A’s knuckles turned white as they gripped the seat. The car came to a shuddering halt and B immediately opened the car door and stepped out onto the frosted grass. His oxfords now even shinier with the meltwater.
A quickly undid their seatbelt and opened the door to join B. “Where are we, sir?” they inquired, looking around the grey landscape. The pair were next to a field of cows making their way to a cowshed and beyond that was the looming darkness of a pine forest.
“I don’t know,” B said, unscrewing the cap of his flask. His hands shook, from cold, fear, or need of a drink, he didn’t know anymore. B took two swigs from the flask and offered it to A as they rounded the bonnet of the sleek black vehicle.
A shook their head and slipped their hands into the pockets of their long black coat. They swayed from side to side, hoping B would soon say something to explain this sudden drive out into the country. Their fingers played with the small silver lighter B had gifted them at only New Year’s, the grooves of the design soothing to their cold fingertips.
But B just walked forward, towards the stile that lead into the cow field. He with ease hoisted himself up and over the stile and turned back to his puzzled friend, A. Waving them over, he offered A his hand as their short legs struggled with the swing needed.
A jumped down the other side of the stile, and B steadied them, his arms on either side of A. A looked up at their employer, their friend and could see straight through the warm haze of alcohol and to the frightened man within.
“…Sir?” asked A as B’s gentle almost-embrace did not end.
“I’ve done something very stupid, A,” uttered B, his warm whisky breath kissing the tip of A’s cold nose. He stared out, his eyes seeing something that A could not. “We need to hide, we need to disappear.”
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue
Content Warnings: Just a little bit of angst; paranoid whumpee
“What are you doing?” asked Whumpee, sitting up in bed as he felt the comforting weight of Caretaker disappear from next to him.
Caretaker slipped on his dressing gown and turned with a small touch of a smile at his lips. “Getting breakfast for us both, but it won’t be a while yet, you can go back to sleep, handsome,” he said and leaned over to kiss Whumpee on the cheek.
Biting his lip, Whumpee leaned into the kiss and when Caretaker pulled away, he placed his hand over where his lips had been, shielding the kiss. “You’ll come back?”
“Of course,” whispered Caretaker, tears rising in his eyes. “I’ll always will.”
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Flinching
Content Warnings: Restrained, threats of violence, threat of eye horror, blade, noncon touch with blade
Whumpee laughed and shook their head as Whumper stood breathing deeply in front of them. “You’re not gonna do shit,” they scoffed. Their breath floated towards Whumper, almost mockingly from the chair they were bound to.
Whumper looked down at the meat hook in their hand. Their brow furrowed and they looked back to Whumpee.
Whumpee continued to smirk, their bare arms just as unbothered by the chill of the freezer as their brain by Whumper’s threats.
Whumper shifted their grip on the hook and took one step forward.
Whumpee looked up at Whumper, their grey eyes revealing no fear. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Whumper took another step forward and they felt their jaw clench. They had been preparing for this moment for months. Whumpee would be scared. They would be sobbing by the end of it all.
“You’re gonna just stand there, thinking you can break me just with a threat,” Whumpee chuckled again. “You’re pathetic.”
The air from ‘pathetic’ drifted over Whumper and their whole body shuddered. Whumper looked away and blinked. “God,” they muttered. Whumpee was right, they had got to actually hurt them.
“D-Don’t make me,” Whumper warned, their grip once again shifting on the meat hook.
Whumpee cocked their head to the side and smiled.
Whumper’s arms began to tremble, as anger coursed through them. Rushing over to Whumpee, Whumper stared straight down at them.
Rather than be startled or intimidated, Whumpee continued to cockily smile, their eyebrows raised like a challenge.
Slowly, Whumper dragged the blunt curve of the hook down Whumpee’s arm, hoping the cold of the metal would elicit some sort of shudder or shake from them, but nothing.
“You can just let me go, kid,” murmured Whumpee. Their gaze followed Whumper’s as it went down Whumpee’s skin. “You can just let me go and forget about all of this.”
The hook’s point flew to just millimetres above Whumpee’s eye. Surprisingly, Whumpee actually flinched and their stoney eyes actually wobbled for a second.
“Don’t mock me,” mumbled Whumper.
“Never,” whispered Whumpee.
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
im quite proud of this drabble actually… please like it lol
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue
Content Warnings: Blood, blade, injury
“Now’s your chance, Whumpee,” coughed Whumper, leaning against the blood-spattered wall. “You can crush me, maim me. Then love me, care for me. Before you do it all over again. Like I did to you.”
Whumpee stood over Whumper, their hand still gripping the knife as blood circled their wrist before trickling down to their elbow and hitting the floor. Rich dark blood, the colour of the sky just before the night.
“I’d rather not,” smiled Whumpee, their eyes alive for the first time in years. “I’d rather you cry alone. Just…” Whumpee began to laugh even as tears streamed down their face. “Just you and your pain and the knowledge it is all yours.”
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Mask, Nightmare
Content Warnings: Hospital setting, medical equipment, blood, (accidental) self harm, drugged
Caretaker woke with a start and sat up in the rough plastic chair he had fallen asleep in.
Whumpee groaned as he tried to roll over in bed but couldn’t because of the pain in every part of him and the wires and tubes that covered him.
Caretaker eased himself up from the chair, still bleary-eyed but staggered towards his brother. Whumpee’s head moved back and forth and his hands that were covered in bandages twitched.
“Hey, I’m here,” Caretaker soothed.
But Whumpee’s head moved more frantically and his hands flew to his face. “I can’t breathe,” he croaked, pulling at the oxygen mask, but still asleep.
“No, this helps you breathe,” his brother said softly, gently trying to take Whumpee’s hands from the mask.
But Whumpee’s hands went back to his face and scrabbled at the plastic surface. His breathing became shallower, more desperate. “Please,” Whumpee gasped.
Caretaker looked down at his brother, he himself now desperate. “Nurse!” he called out into the hall.
He looked back at Whumpee, his plasters on his fingers unwrapping as he continued to struggle against the plastic oxygen mask. Wounds that had never had the chance to heal before reopened easily, and so blood began to cover his brother’s face and sheets as he thrashed around.
“God,” said Caretaker, his hands trembling above his brother’s writhing body. “Nurse!” he yelled even louder.
Whumpee pushed the mask up and off his mouth, but still, he was fighting and screaming.
“Please, Whumper!” he cried out into the hospital room, lit only by eerie electronic light.
One of the nurses rushed in and past Caretaker.
“Stand back sir,” the nurse said, forcefully pushing Whumpee’s arms back down beside him.
“No… no…” moaned Whumpee, his head turning from side to side.
Caretaker watched as another nurse joined the first who had a needle full of something. He pushed the mask back down onto Whumpee’s face and held his arm still.
“What are you giving him?” Caretaker asked, rushing to the second nurse’s side.
The nurse looked at Caretaker, his brow furrowed. “Another sedative I’m afraid, so your brother can sleep dreamlessly. His brain is trying to process what happened.”
“…Well shouldn’t he?” Caretaker questioned as the nurse plunged the needle into Whumpee’s twitching arm.
“It’s too much all at once for him,” the nurse explained as he pressed the sedative into Whumpee’s bloodstream. “Whatever happened to him, will take years to fully process.”
Caretaker let out a sob and walked back from the bed, his brother’s protests slipping away as he fell into deeper sleep.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Caretaker whispered as he stared at his broken and bloodied brother.
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Drugged
Content Warnings: Gaslighting, drugged, alcohol
“Do I look alright?” asked Whumpee, stumbling over to the couch and steading themself on the arm.
Whumper nodded, his eyes watching Whumpee’s hands and arms to keep tension. “You look fine to me.”
“I feel weird,” Whumpee muttered to themself.
“Here, have another drink,” said Whumper, holding out the third bottle of the night to Whumpee. “I’ll grab you something to eat, your sugar is probably low, that’s all.”
Whumpee took the bottle and flumped down onto the sofa, watching the ceiling dance as they sipped from it. Maybe they were just drunk, but they weren’t usually a lightweight.
As the ceiling continued to dance like the fireflies outside, Whumpee tried to think. Think anything. But their mind felt full of treacle, hard and slow effort to work their way through.
Whumper returned, chocolate bar in hand and broke off a square before sitting on the edge of the sofa next to Whumpee’s legs.
“There’s really not something right with me,” Whumpee mumbled as they took the square of chocolate from Whumper.
Whumper smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Handcuffs
Content Warnings: Restrained, noncon touch, kidnapping, creepy whumper, intimate whumper, possible future forced relationship implied
Whumpee pulled against the handcuffs a few times, but they just rattled against the radiator. Whumpee sighed, his ginger hair getting blown up out of his eyes. His captor had been gone for what felt like hours, but Whumpee knew it was probably nearer to just one, he got bored easily.
As if on cue, Whumpee heard the front door latch click and Whumper’s feet on the creaking wooden floor.
“Hi, miss me?” said Whumper with a pout.
Whumpee resisted exposing the smile that was trying to form on his lips and just looked down and forlornly nodded.
“Aw,” crooned Whumper, kneeling behind Whumpee like he was about to do his hair. “Already so lonely. Always at parties and clubs, yet no one noticed you missing.”
Whumpee swallowed. That insight had genuinely taken him by surprise. Whumpee’s phone sat on the table and hadn’t lit up once.
“Now, we are going to get to know each other,” began Whumper, his hand roughly massaging Whumpee’s neck. “…Very well. All our likes… and dislikes.”
“Like what?” whispered Whumpee, hoping that Whumper couldn’t see the way his lips were having to sit to prevent him from laughing. Whumper thought he was someone for kidnapping someone else. He was just as lonely as Whumpee was.
“I like your fiery hair, your fresh skin. And I would like to hear you scream,” uttered Whumper, his hot breath tickling Whumpee’s ear.
Whumpee waited three beats and then let out a shrill scream.
Whumper leapt up, clutching his ears. He paced back and forth, waiting for Whumpee to stop.
Whumpee grinned, seeing Whumper’s face full of shock out the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to shriek again.
“Not like that!” yelled Whumper, rushing over and clamping his hand over Whumpee’s mouth.
Whumper held Whumpee’s head tight for a few moments, Whumpee making his eyes return to the doleful ones he knew Whumper would like.
Whumper gingerly took his hand away.
“A little louder?” offered Whumpee.
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
whumpee is a little shit and i love him
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Conditioned
Content Warnings: Contitioning, blade, blood, death
Continued from May 22nd’s prompt
“Do you need a break?” hummed Whumpee’s boss, wiping a knife on his jacket sleeve.
Whumpee’s raw fingers clattered over the keys of the keyboard, trying to keep up with what Whumper had said.
“No, sir, I don’t want to be the cog that fails,” he said, his voice monotone and flat despite the important smile on his lips. He didn’t look up, just carried on typing, willing his brain to remember what his boss dictated.
Whumper nodded. “What happens to the cogs that fail?”
“They are discarded and melted down, sir.” Whumpee’s eyes only flicked up from the computer screen as his colleague’s body thudded on the ground. A slight smile that his boss insisted on still there on the dead man’s lips. As it should be, Whumpee thought, his own smile securely on his.
“I knew I was right to hire you, Whumpee.”
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
Capitalism™ is the biggest whumper of them all
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Office, Laughter
Content Warnings: This isn’t really whump; just some sense of unease, dubcon touch
“Right you go there… and you can stand just there…” directed Whumpee’s boss. Whumpee had only been working here for a couple of weeks but he already knew his boss was a good one.
Even now, directing the office where to stand in the photograph he smiled and chatted with everyone. Not an angry word, despite the hectic day.
“Come on, Whumpee, get in,” said Whumpee’s boss, waving him over.
Whumpee slipped beside his boss. “Next to you, are you sure, sir?” he mumbled.
His smile widening, the boss slapped and gripped Whumpee’s shoulder, making him wobble a little. Whumpee’s boss continued to smile as his thumb stroked Whumpee’s neck.
Whumpee felt the urge to pull away. Maybe he even tried for a second. Time would blur that memory. But Whumpee knew he let the boss continue his grip.
“Next to me? Oh yes, I’m very sure,” his boss laughed as he turned to look into the camera.
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Winter
Content Warnings: Torture implied, captivity implied, death, blood, hunted by whumper implied
“Are you cold?” asked A, already slipping off their heavy woollen coat.
B just nodded, her lips bound by the cold that whipped around them both.
A carefully arranged the coat on B’s shoulders before cupping her face with their hands. They were slowly cooling but still had some precious warmth, and A smiled, happy to give their girlfriend a part of them.
B closed her eyes, leaning into A’s hands and tried to forget where they were, lost on the moors.
Gradually the chilly bite of the wind hit her cheeks again and her eyes flickered open. Dense fog surrounded B, and A was nowhere to be seen.
B tried to call out for A, but her mouth was so unaccustomed to speaking now, from both the cold and what had been allowed. So her yell came out as a croak, garbled by months of silence and horror.
Gingerly, B began to move in the direction A and her were heading in, against the harsh wind.
“Are you there?” B managed after walking for a while and seeing nothing but empty shadows.
No answer.
B continued over browned heather and frosted grass. Her whole body felt like it was ceasing up, bit by bit. First her fingers, then her toes. Now her ankles and now her wrists as she tried to pull the coat closer and feel A’s love.
Head bowed, B followed a sheep’s track cut through the heather and scrub grass until red flowed onto the sepia scene.
And there was A, their hands so so cold as blood flowed from their wrists and throat into the earth.
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Camping
Content Warnings: Manipulative whumper, toxic friendship, controlling whumper, scalding, blood mentioned
Whumpee found a brook, a thin mossy stone-lined trickle of glittering coolness. Dipping the kettle in the water, Whumpee looked around, his eyes looking at the new green leaves on the beech trees and the buds on the oak. He breathed in the fresh air of spring, clean and without the taste of blood in the air. Birds called loud and passionately to one another, hopping about from branch to branch before flying off with a beak filled with moss or twigs. Whumpee sighed, wishing that camping would be a regular thing with Whumper. But he got bored of everything, well, everything but that taste of blood.
Whumpee walked back to the clearing where Whumper still sat, prodding at the fire with twigs.
“Didn’t find anything?” Whumpee asked, despite knowing Whumper hadn’t even attempted to look for supplies.
“No,” Whumper sneered. “It’s a shit forest.”
Whumpee shrugged and poured the water into an iron pot hanging over the fire. “I don’t know, I think I spotted some wild garlic near the brook.”
“Shoulda got some then,” said Whumper, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, probably should have,” Whumpee agreed. “Shall I go back?”
“Yeah.”
Whumpee sighed and trudged back to the brook and went up a little, nearer the crest of the hill where green leaves of wild garlic grew in abundance. He picked several leaves quickly, the strong smell making his tummy growl. It had been a day since he’d eaten and goodness knows how long it had been since Whumper had.
When Whumpee returned to camp and found Whumper sprawled out on the ground.
“Your water is boiling,” Whumper said, staring up into the sky.
“It’s gonna be pretty plain, I’m afraid, but it will be filling.”
Whumper sat up and grinned through the steam.
Whumpee ripped open the packet of pasta and narrowed his eyes, trying to judge how much to pour into the pan.
“Oh, give it here,” groaned Whumper, leaning over the fire.
The water hissed and burned as it hit Whumpee’s skin, soaking into his jeans. “Fuck!” yelled Whumpee, jumping back up and away from the campfire. “What the hell did I do wrong?”
“Nothing,” Whumper’s bottom lip wobbled. “I’m sorry, it was an accident.”
“Yeah right,” said Whumpee, hopping back to the tent and stripping off his jeans as he went.
“You aren’t going, are you?” whimpered Whumper, looking down at the floor.
Whumpee shot an angry glare back, but his face softened, tears actually seemed to be coming from Wumper’s eyes.
“I was thinking about-” Whumpee began.
“Please don’t leave me here!” Whumper blubbed, drawing his knees to his chest.
Whumpee shoved on a pair of shorts and walked back over to his crying friend, looking as he did back at school. Whumpee crouched beside Whumper and opened his arms, offering a hug.
Whumper flopped into Whumpee’s arms and nuzzled his head into Whumpee’s chest for a second. “We’re leaving together,” he muttered. “Camping is shit.”
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
thought i might try i different dynamic where the whumper is a bit more sneaky about hurting his whumpee so he can keep him around without need for restraints
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Passenger seat
Content Warnings: Conditioning, brainwashing/culty stuff implied, shouting, noncon touch, manhandling, bad caretaker/rescuer
A looked out of the window as the trees and bushes passed the car by in a blur. C was so far away now, and he didn’t know how he felt about that.
B switched on the radio, just adverts right now, advertising things A didn’t know existed with the number of years he had been with C.
“Do you want to choose?” asked B. “Don’t suppose C ever gave you a choice in those sort of things.”
A turned to look at B, scowling. “Don’t talk about C like that.”
B curled his lip and shook his head in confusion. “What do you mean? C was a fucking bastard, look what she did to you!” B exclaimed, gesturing to the bruises that littered A’s grimy skin. B turned back to face the road and flexed his fingers on the steering wheel.
A sunk into his seat and crossed his arms. “Turnaroundthecar,” he muttered under his breath.
B tilted his head. “Huh?”
“I want to go back home,” A mumbled.
Slamming the brakes, both A and B jolted in their seats. “What did you just say?” B growled, narrowing his eyes.
“I want to go home, turn around the car,” grunted A, picking at the car roof.
B grabbed A’s wrist. “That hell hole is not your fucking home,” spat B. “And stop messing with my car.” He flung A’s hand back onto his lap.
A squirmed for a second before trying to open the car door. “I want C to take me back!”
B caught A’s t-shirt collar and dragged him back from the door. “You. Are. Not. Going. Back.”
A struggled and kicked at the dashboard. “I want C, I need C, I want to be back with C!” A sobbed. He practically vibrated with terror, anger and sadness, his tatty shoes bouncing off the glovebox.
“You don’t fucking need her!” B yelled, shaking A. “You have me!”
A froze and sank back down into his seat and B looked down, gently letting go of A’s clothes. He paused a moment, moving his jaw back and forth.
“I’m all you need, A, I promise,” whispered B, before starting the car once again, the radio still talking of things A didn’t know existed.
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
This is very much out of the fire and into the frying pan, like its better but still going to be shit for whumpee
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Reading
Content Warnings: Conditioning implied, sleep deprevation implied, self harm
“And so Beowolf…”
Caretaker looked over their tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses to Whumpee, his eyes open and wide, still alert but looking nowhere in particular. Caretaker shifted in their armchair, their teeth running over their lip in thought.
“It’s getting late, Whumpee,” they said, closing the book they had been reading to him.
Whumpee’s gaze remained unbroken. “Please carry on,” he said, far away.
“You need sleep,” Caretaker explained, easing themself up from the old armchair and taking off their glasses. “You’ve done so well so far, learning not to clean all the time. And now you need rest.”
Whumpee’s head snapped to look at Caretaker. “No,” he whispered, his eyes passing beyond Caretaker.
Shaking their head, Caretaker continued to the bookshelf and placed the book between a book of Arthurian legend and The Hobbit. Their hand lingered in the air, their finger hovering over the spine. Caretaker sighed, their whole body moving with their lungs.
“Another then,” said Whumpee, desperation entering his voice.
“No, Whumpee,” insisted Caretaker, looking back at Whumpee on the edge of the bed. They shook their head and let their arm slip into their trouser pocket. There, their hand played with the house key. “You need sleep.”
“I don’t!” Whumpee suddenly yelled, his arms gripping the bed, shaking with sudden anger. His face was red and pained as he shook his head.
Surprised at Whumpee’s anger, Caretaker pressed the point of the key into their palm. The door was locked, locked like Whumper’s front door always was. Caretaker kept their lips pressed together so as not to let out a whimper of pain.
“You need sleep, Whumpee,” Caretaker repeated as they felt the key dig into their hand. Their hand didn’t move though.
“No, I don’t,” Whumpee whispered softly. “That’s laziness.”
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
Today in I read and watched too much dark academia recently…
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Garotte, Forced to watch, Carried
Content Warnings: Restrained, noncon touch, creepy whumper, death, blood, captivity
“Nnngh,” groaned Whumpee as she felt her body being turned. Her legs, on reflex, kicked out. But bedsheets as her body expected weren’t there, instead, her legs flew through empty air.
Whumpee groaned again, her eyes still closed as she tried to snuggle back into her bed.
Someone chuckled lightly as she tried and Whumpee felt her bed come up around her, embracing her.
Whumpee blinked, her eyes flickering open for the sun to pierce into. She tried to raise her hand to shield her eyes as she adjusted but found it bound to the other.
Looking around she realised she was not in bed, instead, she was up above the ground, arms below her. Whumpee looked up, and Whumpee saw the soft smile of Whumper as they carried her.
“No,” Whumpee whispered as all her senses focused in on reality. Cold stone surrounded them, passages and hallways. Whumpee knew where these went, the courtyard. The one slick with blood.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” murmured Whumper, looking down at Whumpee.
Whumpee struggled as the misplaced kind smile of Whumper shone down at her like the sunlight, her eyes pained just looking at the smile.
“W-what did I do?” stuttered Whumpee, twisting her body as Whumper’s arms grew tighter around her.
The pair were now in the courtyard, a crow fluttered off with viscera of some sort as Whumper’s shoes clopped on the flagstones.
“Hush now,” soothed Whumper, lowering Whumpee onto a chair beside another. “Whatever made you think did something wrong?”
“We are here!” Whumpee panicked, shaking on the chair.
“Ah, well, we are here,” smiled Whumper. “To view, not partake.”
Out of another passageway came a man, his bound feet being dragged along the stones, rubbing them raw and leaving a trail of blood as soldiers held him by the shoulders.
“Caretaker!” Whumpee screamed and she tried to leap up from the chair.
Whumper put out their arm, winding Whumpee and forcing her to hobble back to the seat.
Whumpee looked at Whumper, her eyes wide and her mouth moving but unable to plea like she wished.
Caretaker was dragged over to a chair blackened with blood. Despite his bleeding feet and weeks of less and less food, Caretaker still twisted and turned as the soldiers bound his legs and torso to the chair with thick leather straps. His hands however were cut loose just as one of the soldiers looped wire around his neck, twice and looked to Whumper.
Whumper gave the nod to the soldier as Caretaker attempted to pull the garotte off his neck. However, when he pulled on one of the lines, the other cut deep into his neck. Caretaker slowed his struggle, but struggled nonetheless as blood seeped from the cut.
Whumpee wriggled in her chair, her own hands still bound. “You said he could leave!” she screamed as tears that stung burned their way down her cheeks. “You promised!”
“He is leaving,” said Whumper, gesturing with their head to the scene before them.
The soldier continued to twist the wooden handles attached to the wire as Caretaker struggled and choked. His eyes looked to Whumpee and his hands dropped from his throat.
“It’s alright,” he rasped, tracing the outline of her face from the chair.
Caretaker’s hand dropped to his lap as his head also dropped, slumping forward as life shuddered from his body.
Whumpee couldn’t look at Caretaker’s lifeless body, still sitting bound to the chair. She squeezed her eyes closed, hoping she could go back to sleep and wake later to find this nightmare.
Suddenly there was a heavy thump on her legs and she opened her eyes. Whumper smiled at her and rubbed her knee, lovingly, as a parent would.
“That was a lot for you, I know. Let’s go back inside,” Whumper comforted, a sweet smile still on their lips.
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Prompts used: Dialogue, Façade, Behind closed doors
Content Warnings: Abusive relationship, smashing objects, emotional whump
“Well, I said I’d be back for eleven to Kristie and it’s half ten, so I’ll be seeing you,” said Whumpee’s friend, slapping his knee and standing up.
Whumpee blinked and looked down at the floor, nodding slightly as his friend began to put on his coat.
“What’s wrong mate?” his friend asked, pausing putting his jacket on.
Smiling weakly, Whumpee shook his head and looked beyond his friend to the kitchen where his boyfriend was pouring a drink. He shuddered. Soon they would be alone together again, something most couples looked forward to. But not him. Whumpee crossed his arms, ashamed.
“You sure?” Whumpee’s friend asked, wriggling his arms into his jacket.
“Yeah, just wish we could all spend more time together, but… stuff,” Whumpee shrugged and continued to smile. His eyes though drifted back to his boyfriend, back turned while he inspected one of the glasses. Whumpee’s boyfriend raised up the glass and tilted it, shaking his head as he spotted something.
Shit.
Whumpee’s face betrayed this thought as his mouth wobbled and his brow furrowed.
Leaning in, Whumpee’s friend whispered, “You’re scared, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Whumpee mumbled. His shoulders relaxed a little; his friend saw it too.
But Whumpee’s friend just chuckled and clapped him on his muscular arm. “Moving in with someone is quite nerve-racking, but you’re gonna do just fine.”
His friend hadn’t seen his boyfriend’s small looks, after all, just his own worried ones.
“Bye then, see you soon!” Whumpee’s friend called loudly so Whumpee’s boyfriend could hear.
“It was great to meet you!” Whumpee’s boyfriend called back, his voice bubbly and cheerful.
Whumpee’s friend gave a nod to Whumpee and then opened the door and left. Leaving Whumpee alone with his boyfriend.
For a few moments, there was no noise but the clock ticking, but this only added to the slow crawl of sweat down Whumpee’s back. He stood by the door, waiting, knowing.
Then it came.
“Babe, come here a second.”
Whumpee practically sprinted to the kitchen, his tall large body making the flat’s floor shudder a little. He winced, knowing that would also be a fault.
“What is this?” his boyfriend asked, clasping the glass in his hand by its bottom, his five fingers holding it like claws hold jewels in rings. The glass shimmered like it was new from its box.
“I…” Whumpee moved closer, trying to see what he had done wrong.
His boyfriend looked up at him, eyebrow raised, annoyed that Whumpee couldn’t see it straight away.
“You scratched it,” he pointed. “Here.”
The line was so fine and so short that Whumpee blinked, his eyes struggling to see the mark. “I…” Whumpee repeated, unsure of what to say.
The glass crashed at Whumpee’s feet, leaving only shimmering drops of light. Whumpee gulped back a sob.
“YOU will buy another. Once something is imperfect or damaged…” his boyfriend whispered, going on tiptoes to reach Whumpee’s ear. “You can either mend it or break it. And breaking it…”
The glass scrunched under Whumper’s shoe. ”…Is so much more fun.”
@themerrywhumpofmay@painsandconfusion
this is my first drabble edited using peoples advice i really hope my editing efforts have come through
its hard for me to realise where ive gone wrong in bits that arent the examples people have shown instead i just get a feeling of something is wrong so i need to get my brain honed in on the exact problem which is going to take a bit of practice
but i did realise there was fifteen wases in this so thank you @leyswhumpdump for pointing out i do that a lot
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Play Pretend Masterlist
Obsessive/Intimate/Yandere Whumper, Kidnapping, Captivity
Shattered #2
Taglist:@octopus-reactivated@whatwasmyprevioususername@ramadiiiisme@darkthingshappen (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed )
CW: Vampire Whumper, Vampire Caretaker, Pet/Bloodbag Whumpee, Captivity, Restraints, Muzzled, Vegetative State/Disassociation, Use of hypnosis/mind control, Starvation (brief mention of weight), Creepy/Intimate Whumper, Mentions of death, Selling of human, Illness/infection, Implied previous abuse…*I feel like I’ve missed some, please let me know if I need to add some*
-
“You understand… this is an ‘end of life’ sale? That’s why the price on the advertisement was substantially low”, Vince cautioned with a quizzing brow, leading August through the long, winding corridors of his manor. “I very much doubt the boy will live to see the light of next week. I advise that this be a temporary blood bag till you find something a bit more ‘permanent’”. Biting his tongue, needle-sharp fangs sinking into the edges of the muscular organ, August suppresses the repulsed quips and curses he wishes he could hurl in Vince’s direction. The way in which he spoke of the boy as merely food and nothing more, it sickened him to his stomach.
Was it not that the boy’s heart still beats vehemently within his chest? Hopes and desires nesting in his soul that he may now never fulfill, affection that would go unshared, goodbyes never to be uttered? This was not a matter as simple as some food going off; did Vince really not comprehend the complexities of humanity? Or was it more so that he chose not to understand, lacking the necessary compassion and empathy to care? A slight suspicion indicated it would be the latter reasoning. The boy’s suffering will not end with him upon his death, as brutal as that truth was. It will only trigger a ripple of despair amongst those who care for and miss him, and that’s why August swore to himself and will later swear to Declan if given the chance, that he will one day reunite with his family again.
“I understand. I wish to proceed with the sale.” August bluntly retorted. Keep it professional, no letting tangled emotions get the better of you. See the boy, pay Vince, take him home. Done.
Vince hums in approval, a toothy smile growing on his face. When they finally approach the brass-bound, hefty door locking away the basement, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it imprisoned an unimaginable monster, maybe even the devil himself - instead of a measly human with a melted mind. Dozens of varying locks bolted down the entire length of the door; chains, bolts, key locks. By the time the first couple were done, the rest of them were completely redundant. Overkill. August crosses his arms across his chest, tapping his feet impatiently on the floor with a vexed huff, awaiting for Vince to go through the hassle of opening every single one. When he does, he forcefully shoves the door open, causing an almighty metallic bang to ring through the house. Outstretching his arm inside the dark abyss of the room, gesturing for August to enter first.
“After you…”, Vince grins at him, waving his hand to usher August through the doorway,
Descending into the basement, the icy hush of air instantly wraps itself around August’s body - an involuntary shiver coursing down his spine, goosebumps prickling along his arms. If August; a cold-blooded creature, is bothered by the extreme chill, he dreads to imagine how the human must be coping with it. Rusty squeaks of the metal stairs sound with each cautious step down, and then the boy comes into view. Crimson eyes widening at the sight laying before him.
Declan is crumpled onto callused, bruised knees, head bowed down towards the floor with sopping wet hair leaking water droplets off the end of his curls. The boy is violently shivering, the freezing temperature and his soaked, dripping wet skin and clothes being the culprit. Though August imagines that Declan is entirely oblivious of just how much his body is rocking and trembling on the ground, fatigued muscles involuntarily straining from the physical stress.
“I did you the favour of getting him all spritzed and cleaned up”, Vince chirps, striding towards the boy and hooking his fingers underneath his chin to snap his head up and aimed towards August - his body just limply rolls in whichever direction it’s forced towards, not an ounce of stiffness. Half-lidded, glassy eyes just wearily blink at him, completely out of it and truthfully not comprehending a single word spoken in his vicinity. But now the boy’s face is lifted, August notices the thick leather muzzle buckled around his head and swallowing the lower half of his face. Scrawny arms stretched impossibly tight behind his back, wrists and upper arms bound with lengths of scratchy rope forcing his chest to puff outwards.
“He absolutely stank; reeked of sweat and piss and well… god knows what else. But don’t worry, that service is all free of charge-”
“You said he was broken? That he was living in a comatose state?” August queried, beaming a look of perplexion towards the other vampire that was now working at flicking wet strands of hair out of the human’s expressionless face.
“That he is, indeed” Vince let out a chesty sigh, plucking his hand away and allowing the boy’s head to plummet back down onto his chest. “It’s a shame, really-”
“So then why is he muzzled and tied?” August interjected, the disgust in his voice unintentionally evident.
“Ah! That…” Vince trailed off, back and stroking a finger across the muzzle, tracing along the boy’s prominent jawline to zero reaction. “Some other prospective buyers expressed… concerns. Believed him to be faking, trying his luck at a little escape. Wouldn’t hear a word of it when I ensured the boy can’t string a sentence let alone devise an elaborate escape plan. Just a precaution, to give you peace of mind-”. August’s stomach churned, observing the demeaning way Vince’s fingers swept across Declan’s paling complexion, floating over angry scars and old, healing wounds that were seemingly painted across his entire body.
“Thank you, but that’s unnecessary.”
“Want to inspect the goods before you buy? Maybe a little taste sample?” Vince roughly forces the boy’s head to the side, shoved into his own shoulder; exposing the sore, wounded throat with two perfect puncture marks.
Infection. August immediately homes in on the sore, inflamed skin circling the two fang incisions, and can almost see the sickly heat radiating from it. Poorly scabbed over wounds, weeping and raw. It’s definitely infected.
“No. I’m satisfied with what I’ve seen. I’ll take him”. To leave the poor thing to suffer another day in that state was nothing short of barbaric and cruel, and to sit idly back and allow another vampire to swoop in and buy him first, was complicit in what would be the boy’s murder.
“Perfect!” Vince’s face lights up, clapping his hands together with anticipation, “I don’t do returns. No refunds. I believe I’ve been pretty transparent; the boy is dying. Will die. There’s no dragging him back in three days time when he’s finally kicked the bucket-”
“Understood.” August chucks the envelope of cash into Vince’s hands, a smug grin emerging as he flicks his finger through all the notes, stepping away with satisfaction from the bowing pet.
“All yours.”
August bends to his knees, lowering to Declan’s level, refusing to insinuate any derranged hierarchy of power by towering above, looking down on him. The human’s pupils were mere pin prick dots almost lost in the murky brown eyes, glaring blankly back at the vampire’s deep ruby one’s. And though his body racked with trembles from the cold, when August gently places the back of his hand against the boy’s pale forehead, he’s warm to the touch. Blistering hot and sweating in fact; August hisses and withdraws his hand, his worries of infection further confirmed. He begins scooping the boy into his arms, he doesn’t expect him and will not make him stumble to the car, doubting his abused body could handle the exertion. Even if Declan wasn’t incredibly light, reduced to skin and bones - August was more than strong enough to carry him without so much as busting a sweat.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that!” Vince scoffs, “Walk with your new master, pet!” he bellows the order over August’s shoulder. Declan instantly obeys much to August’s horror; attempting to wobble to his feet, stumbling off balance and looking like he was experiencing an earthquake with how much every muscle was plagued with pained tremors.
“NO! Sleep!” August shouts the alarmed command to override Vince’s, watching with regretful eyes as Declan’s body crashes harshly back to the ground, eyes rolling back into his head and eyelids fluttering shut. Vince shoots a questioning look at August, glancing down at the unconscious boy and flickering his attention back up to the peculiar buyer. August really resented the idea of using persuasion on the boy, he had no intentions of everdoing it but Vince forced his hand. It was safer, kinder and merciful in the long run to force him unconscious… he’d avoid using persuasion at all cost in future.
August unclips the muzzle from Declan’s mouth, carefully removing the bit pressing down on his tongue, the saliva drooling out with its removal and tossing the repulsive device across to the other side of the room.
“You can keep that vile thing!”, August growls, the mask finally slipping and his true emotions leaking out. He wordlessly scoops Declans limp body into a bridal carry, the boy’s legs dangling to the side and freely swinging through the air with each step. This buyer absolutely befuddled Vince; acting so high and mighty, ‘holier than thou’ type bullshit. He silently judges the man, his cowardly gentleness with the pet.
“Pleasure doing business with you-” August grits between his teeth, making a point of barging past Vince with the boy cradled in his arms, and seeing himself out.
Carefully, he shuffles Declan into the car, laying stretched on his side across the leather back seats. Fiddly fingers working at the tight knotted ropes brutally restraining the poor thing. A sense of relief washing over when the binds are pulled away, limbs falling to his sides, but a pang of guilt ensues when he spots the raw, bruised skin that had been concealed underneath. August unwinds the seatbelts from their holsters and clinks both sets around Declan’s sleeping body. For a moment, he just sits with him and watches the weak, tired breaths shudder from his lips - the troubled rise and fall of his chest. Circling soothing rubs on his back that he is well aware have no effect on him, it won’t calm any nerves because there are no nerves to calm. Just hollow. But August is determined to fix that, certain he can breathe life back into the boy and nurse him to health.
It may not work. Not oblivious to the fact that a rough journey lay ahead. Maybe it will all be fruitless and fighting for a lost cause. But he can at least try, right?
He can only try.
-
Shattered #2 - Sold
Taglist:@octopus-reactivated@whatwasmyprevioususername@ramadiiiisme@darkthingshappen@whumpsday@thecyrulik@t0rture-me@redwhump@the-non-binary-cowboy@snowstuffscuff@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump@wolfeyedwitch@interdimensional-chaos@no-terms-and-conditions-apply@whump-blog@leyswhumpdump@not-a-space-alien (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed )
CW: Vampire Whumper, Vampire Caretaker, Pet/Bloodbag Whumpee, Captivity, Restraints, Muzzled, Vegetative State/Disassociation, Use of hypnosis/mind control, Starvation (brief mention of weight), Creepy/Intimate Whumper, Mentions of death, Selling of human, Illness/infection, Implied previous abuse…*I feel like I’ve missed some, please let me know if I need to add some*
-
“You understand… this is an ‘end of life’ sale? That’s why the price on the advertisement was substantially low”, Vince cautioned with a quizzing brow, leading August through the long, winding corridors of his manor. “I very much doubt the boy will live to see the light of next week. I advise that this be a temporary blood bag till you find something a bit more ‘permanent’”. Biting his tongue, needle-sharp fangs sinking into the edges of the muscular organ, August suppresses the repulsed quips and curses he wishes he could hurl in Vince’s direction. The way in which he spoke of the boy as merely food and nothing more, it sickened him to his stomach.
Was it not that the boy’s heart still beats vehemently within his chest? Hopes and desires nesting in his soul that he may now never fulfill, affection that would go unshared, goodbyes never to be uttered? This was not a matter as simple as some food going off; did Vince really not comprehend the complexities of humanity? Or was it more so that he chose not to understand, lacking the necessary compassion and empathy to care? A slight suspicion indicated it would be the latter reasoning. The boy’s suffering will not end with him upon his death, as brutal as that truth was. It will only trigger a ripple of despair amongst those who care for and miss him, and that’s why August swore to himself and will later swear to Declan if given the chance, that he will one day reunite with his family again.
“I understand. I wish to proceed with the sale.” August bluntly retorted. Keep it professional, no letting tangled emotions get the better of you. See the boy, pay Vince, take him home. Done.
Vince hums in approval, a toothy smile growing on his face. When they finally approach the brass-bound, hefty door locking away the basement, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it imprisoned an unimaginable monster, maybe even the devil himself - instead of a measly human with a melted mind. Dozens of varying locks bolted down the entire length of the door; chains, bolts, key locks. By the time the first couple were done, the rest of them were completely redundant. Overkill. August crosses his arms across his chest, tapping his feet impatiently on the floor with a vexed huff, awaiting for Vince to go through the hassle of opening every single one. When he does, he forcefully shoves the door open, causing an almighty metallic bang to ring through the house. Outstretching his arm inside the dark abyss of the room, gesturing for August to enter first.
“After you…”, Vince grins at him, waving his hand to usher August through the doorway,
Descending into the basement, the icy hush of air instantly wraps itself around August’s body - an involuntary shiver coursing down his spine, goosebumps prickling along his arms. If August; a cold-blooded creature, is bothered by the extreme chill, he dreads to imagine how the human must be coping with it. Rusty squeaks of the metal stairs sound with each cautious step down, and then the boy comes into view. Crimson eyes widening at the sight laying before him.
Declan is crumpled onto callused, bruised knees, head bowed down towards the floor with sopping wet hair leaking water droplets off the end of his curls. The boy is violently shivering, the freezing temperature and his soaked, dripping wet skin and clothes being the culprit. Though August imagines that Declan is entirely oblivious of just how much his body is rocking and trembling on the ground, fatigued muscles involuntarily straining from the physical stress.
“I did you the favour of getting him all spritzed and cleaned up”, Vince chirps, striding towards the boy and hooking his fingers underneath his chin to snap his head up and aimed towards August - his body just limply rolls in whichever direction it’s forced towards, not an ounce of stiffness. Half-lidded, glassy eyes just wearily blink at him, completely out of it and truthfully not comprehending a single word spoken in his vicinity. But now the boy’s face is lifted, August notices the thick leather muzzle buckled around his head and swallowing the lower half of his face. Scrawny arms stretched impossibly tight behind his back, wrists and upper arms bound with lengths of scratchy rope forcing his chest to puff outwards.
“He absolutely stank; reeked of sweat and piss and well… god knows what else. But don’t worry, that service is all free of charge-”
“You said he was broken? That he was living in a comatose state?” August queried, beaming a look of perplexion towards the other vampire that was now working at flicking wet strands of hair out of the human’s expressionless face.
“That he is, indeed” Vince let out a chesty sigh, plucking his hand away and allowing the boy’s head to plummet back down onto his chest. “It’s a shame, really-”
“So then why is he muzzled and tied?” August interjected, the disgust in his voice unintentionally evident.
“Ah! That…” Vince trailed off, back and stroking a finger across the muzzle, tracing along the boy’s prominent jawline to zero reaction. “Some other prospective buyers expressed… concerns. Believed him to be faking, trying his luck at a little escape. Wouldn’t hear a word of it when I ensured the boy can’t string a sentence let alone devise an elaborate escape plan. Just a precaution, to give you peace of mind-”. August’s stomach churned, observing the demeaning way Vince’s fingers swept across Declan’s paling complexion, floating over angry scars and old, healing wounds that were seemingly painted across his entire body.
“Thank you, but that’s unnecessary.”
“Want to inspect the goods before you buy? Maybe a little taste sample?” Vince roughly forces the boy’s head to the side, shoved into his own shoulder; exposing the sore, wounded throat with two perfect puncture marks.
Infection. August immediately homes in on the sore, inflamed skin circling the two fang incisions, and can almost see the sickly heat radiating from it. Poorly scabbed over wounds, weeping and raw. It’s definitely infected.
“No. I’m satisfied with what I’ve seen. I’ll take him”. To leave the poor thing to suffer another day in that state was nothing short of barbaric and cruel, and to sit idly back and allow another vampire to swoop in and buy him first, was complicit in what would be the boy’s murder.
“Perfect!” Vince’s face lights up, clapping his hands together with anticipation, “I don’t do returns. No refunds. I believe I’ve been pretty transparent; the boy is dying. Will die. There’s no dragging him back in three days time when he’s finally kicked the bucket-”
“Understood.” August chucks the envelope of cash into Vince’s hands, a smug grin emerging as he flicks his finger through all the notes, stepping away with satisfaction from the bowing pet.
“All yours.”
August bends to his knees, lowering to Declan’s level, refusing to insinuate any derranged hierarchy of power by towering above, looking down on him. The human’s pupils were mere pin prick dots almost lost in the murky brown eyes, glaring blankly back at the vampire’s deep ruby one’s. And though his body racked with trembles from the cold, when August gently places the back of his hand against the boy’s pale forehead, he’s warm to the touch. Blistering hot and sweating in fact; August hisses and withdraws his hand, his worries of infection further confirmed. He begins scooping the boy into his arms, he doesn’t expect him and will not make him stumble to the car, doubting his abused body could handle the exertion. Even if Declan wasn’t incredibly light, reduced to skin and bones - August was more than strong enough to carry him without so much as busting a sweat.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that!” Vince scoffs, “Walk with your new master, pet!” he bellows the order over August’s shoulder. Declan instantly obeys much to August’s horror; attempting to wobble to his feet, stumbling off balance and looking like he was experiencing an earthquake with how much every muscle was plagued with pained tremors.
“NO! Sleep!” August shouts the alarmed command to override Vince’s, watching with regretful eyes as Declan’s body crashes harshly back to the ground, eyes rolling back into his head and eyelids fluttering shut. Vince shoots a questioning look at August, glancing down at the unconscious boy and flickering his attention back up to the peculiar buyer. August really resented the idea of using persuasion on the boy, he had no intentions of everdoing it but Vince forced his hand. It was safer, kinder and merciful in the long run to force him unconscious… he’d avoid using persuasion at all cost in future.
August unclips the muzzle from Declan’s mouth, carefully removing the bit pressing down on his tongue, the saliva drooling out with its removal and tossing the repulsive device across to the other side of the room.
“You can keep that vile thing!”, August growls, the mask finally slipping and his true emotions leaking out. He wordlessly scoops Declans limp body into a bridal carry, the boy’s legs dangling to the side and freely swinging through the air with each step. This buyer absolutely befuddled Vince; acting so high and mighty, ‘holier than thou’ type bullshit. He silently judges the man, his cowardly gentleness with the pet.
“Pleasure doing business with you-” August grits between his teeth, making a point of barging past Vince with the boy cradled in his arms, and seeing himself out.
Carefully, he shuffles Declan into the car, laying stretched on his side across the leather back seats. Fiddly fingers working at the tight knotted ropes brutally restraining the poor thing. A sense of relief washing over when the binds are pulled away, limbs falling to his sides, but a pang of guilt ensues when he spots the raw, bruised skin that had been concealed underneath. August unwinds the seatbelts from their holsters and clinks both sets around Declan’s sleeping body. For a moment, he just sits with him and watches the weak, tired breaths shudder from his lips - the troubled rise and fall of his chest. Circling soothing rubs on his back that he is well aware have no effect on him, it won’t calm any nerves because there are no nerves to calm. Just hollow. But August is determined to fix that, certain he can breathe life back into the boy and nurse him to health.
It may not work. Not oblivious to the fact that a rough journey lay ahead. Maybe it will all be fruitless and fighting for a lost cause. But he can at least try, right?
He can only try.
-
Thinking of creating a new OC specifically for the purpose of whumping him brutally…
But I already have so many OCs…
But I want a new one
Okay, so…
Ciaran’s heart will never stop beating.
At first, it sounds like a superpower. But it’s not. It’s a curse, because it means that no matter what kind of torture he has to endure, he can’t die.
Or can he?
Dark magic might just be the answer to his problem. But it won’t be pretty.
