3-2-whump

[3-2-whump]

previous //

cw: aftermath of noncon, aftermath of torture, stress position, nudity mention, fantasy trafficking

§|°|§

In all honesty, you never wanted to come here.

You'd never even heard of Midnight before winning a voucher in a company raffle, and when you'd finally found information on the net that made any sense, you were a little horrified.

A sex club? Someone donated a voucher to a sex club for your company's annual gala? Maybe you'd think it was funny any other time, but looking back at the way people were laughing when your prize was announced, you can only feel mortified.

Further research tells you the voucher is non-refundable, and no one wants to buy it off you. Probably to save face or pretend they have the moral high ground. Ugh. You're going to be made fun of at work for ages after this.

It's a lot of agonizing and back and forths before you decide to bite the bullet and check it out. Fine. Fine, you'll be a joke for a few months either way, so might as well actually see what the fuss is about. Worst case scenario, you'll bring some snacks or a card game and just hang out with someone new for a couple hours. Maybe make a new friend.

You're still anxious by the time your pod docks, and even more so as you step inside. The guys at the front give you a menu—a menu—to choose from, and you blurt out the first name you lay eyes on to just get it over with.

Kiv.

A hasty look back at the ‘menu’ at least tells you he's handsome. Maybe not quite your type, but it doesn't really matter since you'll probably wuss out and default to card games anyway. Hopefully Kiv knows how to play a few.

You exchange your voucher for a holokey and follow the directions to get to Kiv's room. The ambiance is… neat. Almost artsy. You like that, even if it sort of reminds you of a club and you don't really do clubs. You take a nice deep breath before holding the key to Kiv's door, fidget nervously as it slides away…

…And come face to face with a scene out of a horror movie.

The big picture freezes you in place. Shock halts your breath, your eyes widening as your brain slowly catches up, taking the scene in piece by piece.

Kiv is already naked. His wrists are tied, arms pulled towards the ceiling at a horrible angle, shoulders looking wrong. He's covered in blood and wounds and his mouth is being held open by some sort of gag. For one terrifying moment, you think he might be dead, but then your racing thoughts focus enough to catch the shallow expansion of his bruised chest.

Oh, thank God.

But the momentary lapse in horror doesn't last long. He's still hanging there, unconscious and hurt. What do you even do? Is this just part of the Midnight experience? Why didn't you do more research?

§|°|§

@whumpyourdamnpears , @taterswhump , @light-me-on-pyre , @echo-goes-aaa , @kixngiggles , @thewhumpcrypt , @stainedglassqueen , @3-2-whump , @i-walk-on-the-dark-side , @whumpty-dumpty-doo , @chiswhumpcorner , @whumpsday , @merciless-whump , @deluxewhump , @itsmeblackcat , @hurt-people-hurt-people , @inhurtandincomfort , @gala1981 , @studyofwhump , @onlywhump , @twigsofmanyfaces , @neptunic-chaos , @scoundrelwithboba , @roses-after-dark , @decayanddie , @firapolemos05 @turn-the-tables-on-them

[3-2-whump]

my beloved writers, here's a daily reminder that your writing is never ever trash or bad as long as you have fun writing it. go wild and have fun. there're someone out there who will love and cherish those words you wrote. ♡

[3-2-whump]

on a dark & stormy night, there was a creature . & you’re never going to beleive what it did next

[3-2-whump]

[3-2-whump]

things I would do if you're a nsfw/kink creative now because I've been eerily prescient about every single wave:

a) get a personal site with your own domain you own. now. not a carrd or third party squarespace. not next week. now. get it online with ugly-ass html but get your links there.

b) if you have the money: join one or multiple of eff.org / cbldf.org / freespeechcoalition.com

partly because they're actively fighting this, partly because they have members-only Lawyers You Might Need. Hint. Hint. Canary.

c) Write Down Those Lawyer Contact Numbers in meatspace. phone number of a real human being especially on paper, On You.

I have been in contact with lawyers for a few months now as my doujin circle knows. this should be telling you Many Things.

d) www.ecrater.com is where i'm going to be tentatively testing a shop because i like the fact you can *not* have payment processes and order digital/physical products via purely mail order.

(... be prepared for this to fall through too in the next 1-6 months.)

e) friends and followers of nsfw artists who earn most of their income through it: now's the time to support them. they're going to need the grace and financial flexibility especially mental health wise. domain/shop transfer/refund/therapy bills ain't free.

check in on them, and often.

f) get a VPN, use it daily to acclimatize, have them on your hard drive, several VPN's preferable. this is for the age verification laws coming. Start reading up on secure, privacy-focused infrastructure (prioritize email > website > shop in that order).

eff.org has a *ton* of resources.

g) prepare for discord and tumblr to be hit in the next wave. have alternatives *and actively start using them* if they're mission critical platforms for you.

I've played with matrix though I quite fancy IRC. if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

I say these things not to fearmonger but to give yourself the maximum amount of time to prepare. the pendulum *will* swing back. it did with the 80's moral panic. it will for this too.

you just have to outlast the bastards.

[3-2-whump]

Play Pretend #14 - Change Hands

Masterlist / Previous

CW:// kidnapped, captivity, sadistic/intimate whumper, brief non-con sexual touch towards the end (MARKED BY * *), implied/threatened future non-con, forced nudity/humiliation, shock collar, gagged, restraints, reference to minor character death, implied murder, panic attacks, power imbalance, dehumanisation, begging, emotional manipulation, explicit language...PHEW THAT WAS A LOT! (lemme know if I missed any!)

It's reallyyyy going to kick up a gear in these next few chapters 😈Elijah has got his work cut out for him - he's going to make poor Josh so achingly desperate to go back to Felix... buckle in, kids - he's just getting started 🙊 (I'm so damn excited for this arc....it's brutal.)

-

Josh isn���t on Felix’s bed when he wakes up.

He’s spent god knows how many endless days tied down on it, memorising every inch like the back of his hand. That mattress at least used to melt around his battered body, sculpting itself to every bruise and break. Lulling Josh into a false sense of comfort, before snapping him right back into the cruel reality that comfort is a luxury he can no longer afford.

This mattress? This one’s stiff as a board. Springs jab into Josh’s spine like needles, shredding his back to smithereens. He isn’t melting into it - he’s impaled on it.

It doesn’t smell right either. There’s no fresh linen, not a trace of Felix’s cloying aftershave - the musky scent that used to claw up Josh’s nostrils and make his insides churn. Felix’s pillows reeked of it. But here? The air smells stale. Damp. Like sweat and despair - the sour rot of hopelessness.

Josh is almost too scared to open his eyes. Almost. He dares to crack them open just enough to peek through the blur. The world contorts, walls bending like heat haze. He blinks sluggishly, drugs still loitering in his system. A full ten seconds pass before the room decides to stop spinning and slowly settles into something resembling focus. 

And even then, Josh knows.  He doesn’t need crystal clear, twenty-twenty vision to know; this isn’t Felix’s bedroom.

He doesn’t recognise this place whatsoever - a cramped, boxy room with stained and peeling wallpaper, a boarded-up window blocking out the daylight, and deep scratches gouged into the door. Like animals have tried to claw their way out.

No - not animals… people. People like Josh. Desperate for escape.

Pain tsunamis over his body in slow, searing waves. His arms are wrenched high above his head, wrists shackled to the iron bars of the headboard, while his legs stretched taut, ankles chained to the end of the bed. Honestly, it’d be easier to list what doesn’t hurt - because right now, every nerve is a live wire. Each desperate tug makes the metal cuffs bite into bruised skin, flesh already rubbed down to the bone beneath the bracelets.

This is wrong. This is all so wrong. Josh’s thoughts are thick and sticky, like honey poured and left over concrete on a hot day. That same question comes back to haunt him, like it has every day since Felix took his life from him. What did I ever do to deserve this?  

Panic creeps up on him, like it could snatch him by the ankle and drag him down like the monster under the bed. But the monsters Josh needs to fear aren’t hiding under beds - they’re the ones that climb into bed with him.

Frigid air settles on Josh’s body like a thin sheet of ice, skin prickling with shivers. A cold waft of air suddenly brushes over everywhere, he feels it over skin that he shouldn’t… that should be protected and private. He casts a glance down at himself…

… and he’s stark naked. His breath stutters, chest jerking way too fast. The vulnerability tightens around his throat like a noose. They didn’t even have the humanity to throw a blanket over him. Not a towel, not even just leaving him in his boxers.  Left like this - tied down, gagged, stripped bare on display -  like his body doesn’t belong to him anymore. Like he isn’t a person. Which he’s not. Not anymore. He’s property. Felix’s possession, shipped for upgrade. 

His throat burns with a gut-born scream that catches behind the gag stuffed between his teeth. He writhes and thrashes, desperate to curl in on himself - to shield whatever little dignity he has left to protect - but the restraints hold him fast.

That’s the point, isn’t it? That’s always the point. To keep him vulnerable. Strip him bare and keep him exposed and humiliated, until whatever’s left of his will just… waves the white flag. 

The clink of keys on the other side of the door reaches Josh’s ears. He bolts upright, tugging hard against the chains keeping him bedbound. He watches the door like a hawk, heart pounding against his ribcage. The locks jiggle. The handle rattles. The door swings open - and it might as well be the gates of hell.

Elijah.  

No. No, please. Josh remembers. He fucking remembers. Rocketing sobs launch from his chest, hollow-bloodshot eyes overflow with tears and snivelling tracks of snot streak down his upper lip. 

Would Felix still call him beautiful if he saw him now? Would he still croon over how pretty his baby blue is?

This is it, isn’t it? The consequence that Josh has been warned about and threatened with time and time again but didn’t think to take the hint. Or rather, he wasn’t granted a second to breath and count his deck of cards. He’s not been able to think about what lies beyond Felix. Josh had half-forgotten that other people exist on this god-forsaken earth. It’s just been him. Always him. Morning, afternoon and night. No escape. Felix. 

Josh flinches when Elijah’s fingers pluck at the leather straps of the gag pinching into his flushed cheeks. He recoils on instinct, writhing and wriggling away. Because why the hell wouldn’t he? Josh still hasn’t learnt his lesson, even now. He should know that all he has to do is exist and tolerate. The gag is tugged free with a wet pop, the spit-soaked rubber ball dangles limp around his throat.

It’s a standoff. A staring competition. An excruciating waiting game to see who’s going to play the first move, utter the first word. Elijah lingers over him, staring down with that predatory glare of his. Holy shit, it makes Josh feel like he could have a heart attack and die right on the spot. He’s so fucking scared. He should know what to expect by now, how to play this. It should be second nature to him how to behave with these psychopaths. 

But their moods are like yo-yos. And their rules are like a never ending labyrinth.  The only constant is that Josh always loses.

“Wha - …What are you going to do to m-me?” Josh squeaks out, regretting his stupidity the second the words unfurl from his tongue. He has no idea if he’s allowed to speak. Maybe if he keeps his voice quiet, then it’s like he never spoke at all - Elijah may not have even heard him!

“...I like it,” Elijah purrs. Josh shoots him a dumbfounded look, mouth stuttering open, then snapping shut.

“I like it. Skip the pleasantries. Cut the bullshit. Straight to business,” Elijah teases. His fingers walk a lazy path along the inside of  Josh’s quivering thighs, before leaning in - hot, cigarette breath wafting against Josh’s face. He squeezes Josh’s throat with his free hand, lips nearly touching. “You’re eager,” he chuckles, “I love ‘em eager. So desperate for it.”

“P-P-Please - s-stop -” Josh croaks, terror strangling the words.

“You’re way prettier than the last one,” Elijah murmurs, now dragging the backs of his knuckle along Josh’s jaw like he’s admiring a porcelain doll. He pauses, as if savouring the memory, then, with mock solemnity;

“-God rest his soul.”

Josh hears the words, but they ricochet through his mind like bullets off steel. His soul flees his body, mind spiralling into oblivion. ‘The last one’.  There was someone else. Another ‘lover’. This is bigger than just Josh. Felix has done this before and he … he fucking killed them. The same hands that once cradled and caressed Josh had also taken a life.

“Nononononono-” Josh bawled hysterically. He'd been so hellbent on surviving day by day - so focused on staying small, quiet and obedient - that it never occurred to him that he wasn’t the first. There were others. Others who had begged and cried like he had. Others who didn’t make it out. How many shallow graves were dug in the name of Felix’s love? How long did they last before Felix ‘dumped’ them? … How long will Josh last? 

Josh's eyes burn as he gasps over and over, chest heaving in frantic spasms, but the air never comes. He’s never getting out of this alive. He’s just a number, another strike on the tally. Another body to the pile.

“Oh, poor thing. You’re shaking-” Elijah pouts, fawning concern whilst watching him unravel with quiet delight. 

I’m not a person. I’m a phase. A passing fancy. A fucking replacement. I’m going to die.

Elijah’s tongue grazes the skin beneath Josh’s ear. Josh hiccups and collapses into a fit of choking sobs. “Shhh… I know,” Elijah cups Josh’s face, forcing him to look up at him. “It must be so hard finding out that you’re not special.”

“...H-How many? B-Before me…?” Josh blubs. He doesn’t want to hear the answer - fuck, he can’t bear the thought. And knowing won’t make any of this easier. But he needs to know. A new emotion slips into the mix - guilt.  Crushing, suffocating guilt. Why is he here and they’re not? Why does he get to be the one still breathing, when the ones before didn’t make the cut? Who gave Felix the right to play god? Josh wants to scream at the injustice, but his face crumples and he lets out a broken sound.

“What difference does it make?,” Elijah snaps, pulling away. “Whether I say one or a hundred? It still all comes down to you in the end.”

“A-Am I… going to die?” Josh gasps out. He knows it's a futile question - of course he’s going to die. Alone, in pain, at the mercy of a man who claimed to love him but only ever hurt him. And the worst part? The part that cuts deepest - is that maybe… maybe Josh’s life didn’t matter anyway..

What did he do with it? What legacy has he left behind? He thinks of all the time wasted and the chances never taken. The idle years that slipped through his fingers whilst he sat around waiting for something to change. 

Okay, maybe he was a nobody. Maybe he lived an undeniably forgettable and miserable existence.

But he wants to live anyway. He wants the chance to screw up. To waste his time. To fall in love of his own accord and undoubtedly mess it up and then try all over again. To feel sunlight and wind on his skin as he runs with Milo through the park. To ugly laugh at something so stupid it’s not even funny. 

Even if none of it matters. Even if no one remembers him in the end. He deserves the chance to be here. Felix has no right to take that away from him - from anyone.

Elijah only watches him, saying nothing - the kind of silence so heavy that it makes your lungs forget how to work. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Josh’s relief is negligible. He swallows hard, heart lurching. “O-okay…not you…” he says, “Him. And maybe not now. Not in a year’s time. But down the line - when I’m all used up. When I’ve said the wrong thing or looked at him the wrong way or … stopped being fun. What then?”

His voice cracks. Holding it together is getting harder and harder by the second - if he’s even holding it together at all.

“Please… Please, Elijah - I - I don’t want to die. I’m so scared,” Josh whimpers, “You don’t have t-to do this… you could let me go home. I would never breathe a word to anyone, I swear on my mother’s life - on anything. I’ll disappear. I’ll give you whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll let you do whatever you want. Just please… don’t do this. Don’t make me go back there. To him.”

Full-bodied tremors rack him as he pulls uselessly at his restraints again, some desperate part of him still believes if he just tries hard enough, he will tear himself free. “I won’t survive this. I know I won’t. You know it too-”

The room goes still again. Then Elijah laughs, a hearty bellyaching laugh, like he’s heard some hilarious joke no one else would get.

“What makes you think your petulant whining will work on me?” he sneers. “What makes you think I care whether you live or die?”

Josh flinches back. Elijah’s hand latches around Josh’s jaw, gripping hard enough to leave more bruises. “You really thought begging would change anything? I bet that worked all the time on your little boyfriend - he’s so fucking hopelessly smitten with you. Won’t work on me. Don't even try it.”

He lets Josh  go with a harsh shove, and Josh’s head knocks back against the iron railing of the bed. Stars burst behind his eyes.

“Congratulations are in order, though!” Elijah announces, cheerfully now. He claps a round of applause. “Your first infraction. That was quick, princess. I was hoping you’d play up for me. Spice things up a bit.”

Josh’s stomach sinks like a stone. ‘Infraction’ means punishment. Pain heading his way. Maybe worse. All he had done was begged for mercy. That was his crime. 

“Felix won’t be best pleased to hear what you just asked of me,” Elijah continues, finding way too much enjoyment in Josh’s anguish. “Hopefully he’ll extend your little sleepover with me. Just for good measure. Teach you a lesson about loyalty.”

Dread consumes Josh’s every thought. “No!” he wails, voice shattering completely now. “Please! Forget I said anything! Don’t tell him, I beg you! I-I wasn’t thinking! I’ll be good, I’ll do better - please, please please-”

He’s losing track of what he’s even saying. The words just keep tumbling out, getting tangled up with his choked breaths and defeated sobs. Suddenly, Elijah’s palm slams down over Josh’s mouth, pressing hard enough to muffle his pathetic cries instantly.

"I told you to save your fucking breath" Elijah growls, pressing his palm harder over Josh’s mouth as he lets out a petrified whimper. "I just want the sound of your suffering - that’s all you’re good for now. So, I wouldn’t worry about dying, princess. You don’t get to die. You get to endure.”

Something shatters inside Josh - clean through. A fault line splitting open in his chest. His wrists twist in the restraints until the leather chafes further into raw skin, but he doesn’t feel the throbbing pain this time. Doesn’t care. All he can feel is devastation devouring him.

Why couldn’t he just be good enough for Felix? Did he really never matter that much to him? Josh had grovelled - offered to worship the ground he walked on - and Felix hadn’t even blinked. Just handed him over. Like it was nothing. A fucking transaction. A bitter thought sticks like a thorn; Felix had traded him off like he was pack of fucking Pokémon cards, flipping him for something shinier. No hesitation and no regret.

It shouldn’t hurt this much - but it does. It feels like betrayal. The tears stream uncontrollably down his face. He can’t stop shaking. His head thrashes side to side like he’s trying to physically shake out the truth that was just planted in his skull. That he won’t be allowed to die. That he has to live this. Endure it. For however long they decide he has left.

“That’s it, let it all out”, Elijah coos. “I know it hurts. I want it to. That’s how it works. Break you down to build you back up and shape you into the perfect lover for him. You will be everything Felix could ever want or need when I’m done with you.”

Josh shakes his head weakly. “I didn’t ask for this… I didn’t- ” His words catch and crumble into a sob. He feels like he’s going to be sick. He swallows hard, knowing that if he lets himself vomit beside the bed, it’ll just be another ‘infraction’ to add to the list.

How could Felix want this? Want him like this - reshaped, rewritten, turned into someone unrecognisable? Was the real Josh that worthless? Wasn’t that what Felix said he’d ‘fallen in love’ with? But no. It was never real. Felix never loved Josh - he loved the power he held over him. And Josh can’t help but imagine it was the same for whoever came before.

Elijah runs his finger slowly over Josh’s trembling lips. “See? That’s better. You’re much prettier when you’re quiet.”

“L-Lemme speak to him-” Josh pleads, “Felix. Please. I wanna talk to Felix-”

He’ll ask to come home. It makes Josh’s stomach turn, calling it that - home. It’s offensive. Home is supposed to be safety and comfort, nothing but love and peace. But that’s what Felix wants to hear, isn’t it? That Josh misses him. Needs him. He’ll say it. He’ll fucking say whatever it takes.

He’ll tell him things can go back to how they were. No, he'll promise that things will be better. He’ll swear to be quieter, easier to handle. He’ll make promises he has no idea how to keep - but damnit, he’ll try. He’ll mould himself into whatever shape Felix desires. He’ll say it with a voice full of cracks and a lump in his throat, but he’ll mean every word in the moment, even if it kills him.

And it does. But if he has to kill a part of himself to survive, then so be it.

“You don’t call the shots around here,” Elijah scolds, “You don’t get to ask for things. You’re not owed shit. You had your chance. You blew it. He doesn't want to hear it anymore.”

Josh is nothing. Has nothing. No-one. No power, no voice, no say in anything. But with Felix… at least there was a way in. He had cracks. A soft spot Josh could poke at. A twisted tenderness buried beneath all that darkness. Josh could manipulate that. Tug at his heartstrings. Now? There’s nothing. No tenderness. No weakness to exploit. 

“We’re going to become very acquainted over the next couple weeks, boy,” Elijah coos, fingers gliding over Josh’s chest, trailing down until they find his nipples - pinching them until they pebble, drawing a sharp little gasp. “We’ll know each other inside and out by the time you’re ready to go home to lover boy.”

Josh pales, the colour draining from his face like a slow leak, leaving behind a sickly grey.

“First order of business,” Elijah mutters, squatting beside the bed with the calm of a man who had all the time in the world - whilst Josh was running out of his. “Let’s get this off…”

Old instincts kick in. Josh flinches, bracing for pain - despite that being the same mindless habit that landed him here in the first place…but pain never comes. What follows is a soft click, and then release. The shock collar comes loose from around his throat, and drops to the floor with a dull, heavy thud.

Josh’s entire body sags with inconceivable relief. His chest heaves as if he’s been holding his breath from the day he was stolen. He frantically sucks in lungful's of the stale air. His fingers itch to reach up for his neck, to feel the absence - but the restraints hold fast. The skin of his neck throbs where the collar has been strapped for so long - raw and sweaty and scabbed in places. Air whispers across the welted flesh, and the gasp that escapes him sounds more like a sob.

“Thank you - Oh god, oh my god, thank you!” Josh chokes out, eyes glistening with gratitude and desperation pouring from every word. “Y-You won’t regret it! I promise. I’ll be so good. I’ll be so quiet. I swear, you’ll never have to ever think of using it again-”

“Don’t suck my dick too quickly.”

Elijah pulls a second collar from his pocket - smaller, sleeker than the first one, but unmistakably still the same kind of device. Josh blinks at it, confused. Why take Felix’s one off just to replace it with another?

The flicker of hope doesn’t even have chance to catch before it is snuffed out again. Elijah tightens the new collar around Josh’s throat as he gulps, and he hears the familiar high-pitched beep. Josh freezes. Click. Whirr. A red light blinks to life and his stomach drops.

“This one’s special,” Elijah croons, revelling in the look of horror washing across Josh’s face. “Noise-activated.”

Josh’s eyes snap to his. “Wha-?”

The shock hits him mid-word. White-hot pain. Lightning beneath his skin. Every nerve ending in his neck and jaw lights up like the Fourth of July. He arches up off the mattress involuntarily. A strangled sound gargling in his throat. When the shock subsides, Josh crumples back down, shivering from head to toe.

Elijah’s eyes glitter with pure glee. “Here, with me, you speak when spoken to. Not even that. You speak when I want you to.  I don’t want to hear your mithering or moaning. I don’t care what you think you have to say. Your stories, your begging, your pathetic little deals - none of it matters to me. I. Don’t. Care.”

He reaches out, brushing his fingers callously along Josh’s gaunt cheek. Josh flinches again, this time hard enough to rattle the rickety bed frame. Another brutal jolt from the shock collar slams through Josh’s neck, head snapping back violently, a cry trying to break through gritted teeth. Again and again, any minute sound is rewarded by the collar's sting.

Elijah lets out a slow sigh as he climbs on top of Josh, straddling his hips and gripping him by the shoulders. His eyes bore into Josh’s - cold and unforgiving.  “We’re not off to a good start, are we, Joshua?”

Josh bucks and thrashes wildly beneath him, but another vicious shock zaps through his neck to still him. A bloodcurdling scream tears free, echoing through the room as the collar pulses mercilessly.

“Look. It’s simple. You move, you flinch, you twitch - I shock you. Every. Single. Time. There won’t be a single lucky escape, no mercy, no mistakes. You will learn to obey, or you’ll learn to suffer. Got it, pretty boy?”

Josh’s lips part slightly, but the collar gives a quick warning beep, and he clamps his mouth shut so fast he bites his tongue hard. The metallic tang of blood fills his mouth. He nods bitterly.

“I’m going to do everything that Felix could ever dream of doing to you, but he’s too soft to follow through on. Whereas me? I couldn’t give less of a shit if you hate me… kick and scream at me. Make it difficult for me, princess. I beg.” 

Tears spill freely. His chest shakes with the effort to hold back any and every sound - because even crying, even breathing might trigger it.

"You'll learn a lot about me. And here's your first fact, I may be many things…a liar I am not. So I’ll promise you here and now; I’m going to put you through hell, Josh. I mean that. That's my mission. And we’re going to get there. We have all the time in the world, you and I.” 

 Josh stays deathly still -  doesn’t nod, doesn’t blink, not even breathing too deep. Any previous gratitude curdles in his throat, sour with rage. At Elijah. At Felix.  At everything. It wasn’t fucking fair. He wanted to tear the world in half - but all he could do was sit in sombre silence and seethe.

Elijah shifts his weight slightly, still perching on Josh, hands spread across his chest. His wandering fingers begin to drift lower, gliding over Josh’s jutting ribs and down his stomach. Josh flinches, instinctively sucking in his stomach, muscles tightening under the ghost of Elijah’s touch. He pays for it with what feels like a thousand volts igniting his blood stream. 

“Felix… he’s soft. Let you off way too lightly, and you took it for granted. Thought you still had some kind of choice, some leverage - didn’t you?”

*Josh mewls, the sound slipping out unbidden as Elijah’s hands dip even lower, fingertips brushing the edge of his length. And then - he takes him in hand, squeezing.*

The contact is sudden, repulsive, and Josh tenses beneath him, breath catching like it’s snagged on barbed wire. Elijah doesn’t move, not yet. He just holds him -  a bold fucking power play - just to let Josh know that his body is his alone to command and there’s nothing he can do or say to stop it. A warning. Or a promise. Josh can’t tell which one terrifies him more.

“But you don’t. You never did,” Elijah whispers, gaze fixed and unblinking.  “You’re nothing but a spoiled mistake. He’s been too blinded by ‘love’ to punish you properly.”

After everything Josh has endured - after crawling through hell, and watching his life be reduced to ash and ruin. His body had become a battleground. Felix hadn’t just hurt him - he’s decimated him. Tortured him. Raped him. And to call that mercy? That’s letting him off lightly? Now that was the sickest joke of all.

“Now it’s my turn to show you what happens when you squander his mercy. You’re on my clock now, and trust me… there won’t be any second chances with me.

-

a humongous thank you to the absolutely brilliant @angst-after-dark for the beta on this one <3 <3 MWAH

TAGLIST! (pls let me know if you'd like to be added!!! :D)

@sparrowsage  

@darkthingshappen 

@the-cryptid-finch  

@whatwasmyprevioususername 

@leyswhumpdump 

@panic-while-i-whump 

@ha-ha-one 

@whumpcereal 

@damienxozmoze 

@t0rture-me 

@termsnconditions-apply  

@darlingwhump 

@wolves-and-winters 

@deltaxxk 

@silver-ink-iron-words 

@baldngoamc 

@canislycaon24

@soursagas

@turn-the-tables-on-them

@starsick1979

@aryox

@fkaalexm

@fuckclimatechange

@3-2-whump

@slightlydisturbedbeans

@wishiwaskidnapped

@unforgivenn

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@whump-me-harder

@galactic-worm

@bacillusinfection

@watsonbee

@what-if-i-just-did

@books-bring-me-joy

@i-am-soggy-cereal

@alyscat

@morning-star-whump

@w4nd3r3r123456

@hellodecisionparalysis

@3-2-whump

[3-2-whump]

What can non-Black users on the site do to support the Melanin Beam Challenge?

1. Participate!

2. Support the people who participate!

3. Support Black creators during and after the challenge!

4. Educate yourself on why good Black character design is as essential as any of the rest of your characters (writing and art).

5. And if nothing else, be willing to fight if need be if/when the racist weirdos come out of the woodwork on your peer's posts because they dared draw a fan fave Black! No mercy for willful bigots. 👍🏾

[3-2-whump]

the death of 8tracks made you all so bad at making playlists i fear. good ship or character playlist is max 16 songs and devastatingly perfectly crushingly curated. it should make sense musically, if not across the playlist, then at least from song to song. GRADIENTS of genre. think about this before you make a 200 song ship playlist that includes both maroon 5 and mitski. Think on it

[3-2-whump]

i might elaborate later but fanfic replies literally develop writer’s metacognition and make them better writers

[3-2-whump]

hello tumblr user. in front of you stands a confident and outspoken character. your challenge today & forever is to consider the possibility they may simply have self-confidence and are not just faking to secretly cover up massive insecurities. good luck

[3-2-whump]

"you can use ai to improve spelling and grammar"

[3-2-whump]

I worked my little ass off making this google doc

It's a picrew quicksheet with all the ones people have posted in a few of my servers. I got so tired of scrolling through them to try to find the one I have in mind, so here I can see 30 photos at a time and each one has a link to its picrew

If you want one added or if you find a duplicate/dead link, feel free to leave a comment and I'll update it

[3-2-whump]

Midnight Snack

Ch 13: Cleaning Up After the Feast

Ready for another serving of carewhumpery? Come and get it. And again, as always, miigwech and thank you to @doomeddestination for continuing to support my son torturing yours 😈

The full portion is up on ao3.

Enjoy a nibble below...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kiv’s eyes shot open. He jerked, lips parted, breathless.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, one arm locked around Kiv’s shoulders, his other palm pressing firmly against Kiv’s sternum. “Easy. This’ll help.”

He kicked and flailed, splashing them both, then gasped. A weak scream rasped up Kiv’s throat. 

“Shh.” Trouble smiled as he knelt. “I won’t let you drown. You’re okay, mean boy.”

“Sss...” Kiv’s eyes rolled. He whimpered, unable to push himself up. “S-stop!”

“It’s only for a few minutes.” He pushed Kiv deeper, ignoring his disjointed thrashing and turning his face away from the splashes. “The water isn’t even cold. Don’t be a baby.”

“Please,” he begged, tugging at Trouble’s wrist, “please, please...”

“Could be worse.” He grinned, bending further to force Kiv under the water up to his chin. “See?”

“Noo!” Kiv sobbed, tilting his face up.

“This isn’t my fault. I gave you medicine. You’ve gotta do the rest and get better for me.”

“I’ll do anything!”

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “Then think cool. And stop squirming. You’re the one who needs a bath, sweaty boy, not me.”

“Killing me,” he whimpered, reaching for Trouble’s face.

“Quit that.” Trouble turning his head away from Kiv’s trembling, dripping fingers. “You’re fine. If you start to shiver, I’ll take you out.”

“Hurts.”

“That’s just the fever,” Trouble soothed. “The pain will stop, I promise. Relax for me.” He brushed a kiss over Kiv’s forehead. Still hot. 

[3-2-whump]

100 followers WHUMP BINGO

waow people actually like my writing? waow....

it's 14 followers late BUT! it's here! the whump bingo!!!!

no right or wrong way to use it. if you get a bingo, hell yeah! :D

all i ask is that you @ me on any writing or art you make using this bingo, bc i'd rly love to see!!!!!

[3-2-whump]

boys in a shed, boys in a sheddddddd

L to R: krissy (@dr-abitat-blog) julian (mineeeee) xander (@whumpsmith) adam (@illustriousshadow) ivan (@tsukareta819) kole (shatteredswordx) elliott (cosmicchrysalis)

[3-2-whump]

Random question: how does Mateo lure his victims?

different methods for different situations! for a lot of his early victims it wasnt rly luring, it was more like. stalking them until he finds an opportunity where theyre all alone and forcefully grabbing them. for the majority of his victims i dont have a detailed play-by-play, but for the Months boys, i got info! ofc there will be full chapters for these later, but im impatient

Months spoilers under the cut

for kenton: i alluded to this in the main chapters and Kenton Alone, but mateo posed as a dealer and sold him some laced brownies. kenton's not the most responsible guy and would often show up late or short on money so his regular plug stopped answering him. mateo swoops in like HEY KID I GOT WHAT U NEED and kenton's like OH BOY IM DESPERATE so they meet up and. sedatives. waking up in the trunk of a car. secondary location. tbh ive wanted to write this scene or commission someone to write this scene for years but it's not a real project priority. ill make another post about it later at some point :]

for nick: mateo used lavender! the scene: a college party. mateo can't get into those without raising suspicion so lavender went in and spiked nick's drink. she "walked him home" right to mateo's waiting arms.

for julian: mateo and lavender just fuckin yoinked him off the street into a van as he was walking home from his graveyard shift. not a lot of trickery. just a bunch of manhandling. there was a witness tho

for beau: mateo used lavender again. she not-so-stealthily pickpocketed him so he'd chase after her into a dark alley for his wallet, then lavender and mateo coerced beau into their vehicle by threatening his nephew.

for ollie: christmastime. mateo asked him to help carry some packages to his car in the mall parking lot. when ollie's stranger danger radar went off, mateo simply manhandled him. there's almost a foot of height difference there so it was no contest.

for emory: that kid was already living on the streets and occasionally, very occasionally, he'd trade sex for a hot meal and a warm bed. mateo offered him such a deal, so he got into his car willingly. emory noticed lavender was tailing them though so he tried to fight back when he realized something wasnt right.

also fun fact mateo doesnt usually drive a van! i love the good ol creepy white kidnapper van trope, but mateo has an old blue ford f150. he often uses other cars as getaway vehicles. harder to find a pattern = harder to track :]

[3-2-whump]

Japanese fujoshi learning abt the term “fujoing out”