whump-and-other-misfortunes - Tumblr blog

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Hello! Sorry for the radio silence, I needed some time away for mental health stuff. But I’m back now, so if you sent in a request I will get to it shortly!

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

No Place Feels Like Home

a version of this from whumpee's perspective, with ocs cuz i'm planning on turning this into a series <3

cw age gap, intimate whumper, power dynamic

The freezing air outside was a stark contrast to the inside of the house. The heat of so many bodies pressed together in the basement had left Thomas sweaty and flushed in his wool sweater, but now, standing on the porch, he wished he’d worn more layers. Winters in Jersey were unforgiving. He took another drag from his cigarette in hopes of keeping warm—it didn’t quite do the trick, but the burning in his chest was a distraction, at least. 

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

Thomas looked up in surprise at the guy walking toward him, leather jacket over a Refused shirt. Dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he was wearing the kind of smirk that Thomas knew would get him into trouble if he wasn’t careful. He'd always been a sucker for bad boys. 

He held the other man’s gaze, raising the cigarette to his lips again. Thomas blew out a cloud of smoke before replying, “What makes you think I have a bedtime?” Surely, he didn’t look that young. 

The guy leaned one shoulder against the wall next to him, leaving just enough distance to be casual. “I don’t mind,” he said, not answering the question. “I mean, we do all ages shows for a reason. I think it’s great for kids to see live music.”

What a jerk—this guy had to be fucking with him. Thomas gave him as scathing a glare as he could manage. “I’m eighteen, actually. But thanks for your concern.” 

“Sorry, you just look young is all.” He was still smiling teasingly. “Didn’t mean to offend you—maybe we could start over? I’m Mateo Ruiz. But everyone calls me Matty.” 

“I know, I came to see your band,” Thomas said, taking another drag on his cigarette. 

He shivered when Mateo looked him up and down. “Yeah? Didn’t realize you were a fan.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Mateo hummed, eyes shining with amusement. “Just don’t look like you’re in the scene. Where’s your sweater from, pretty boy—The Gap?” 

It was, actually, which made Thomas fume even more. “My friend Liz put me onto you guys. She’s really into hardcore stuff, she played me your CD.”

“You’re gonna love it, I promise,” she’d insisted, grinning as they sat cross-legged on her bed. “These guys are gonna be big someday.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “That’s what you said about The Unholy Pizza Parlor Apocalypse. And they’ve already broken up.” 

Liz smacked him on the arm. “Okay, but I mean it this time. The melodic hardcore stuff is totally taking off. Aaaaannd the guys are wicked cute.” 

“You’re sick,” Thomas said when she wiggled her eyebrows at him. 

“Oh shit, Liz?” Mateo’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Like, Liz that does the Soundboard zine?” 

Thomas nodded, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall behind him before flicking it over the porch railing. “Yeah, she's here somewhere. Probably chatting up your bandmate—she has a thing for bassists.” 

Mateo nodded, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between them. “And how ‘bout you?” he teased, looking down at Thomas with big, dark eyes he could get lost in. “You look like the type who’d be into singers.” 

“I don’t know...singers are too cocky,” he shot back. “And they’re not as good with their fingers.”

Mateo laughed at that, flashing him a devilish smirk. “You’re funny, kid... Never told me your name, by the way.” 

“Thomas.” The chill that ran down his spine had more to do with the hungry way Mateo was looking at him than the February air. His heart pounded in his ears. 

“Thomas,” Mateo repeated, the name dripping from his tongue like honey. “Suits you.” 

His hands fidgeted with the bottom of his sweater, and he wondered if he should light another cigarette to keep them busy. 

Mateo reached out and brushed Thomas’s hair behind his ear, not paying any mind to the people milling around outside. “Well, I’ll tell you a secret, Tommy,” he said, lowering his voice. “I kind of have a thing for preppy boys who shop at The Gap.” 

“It’s just Thomas,” he whispered, throat dry. 

“Listen.” Fingers trailed down his jaw, and then Mateo’s hand was cupping his cheek. “I haven’t seen you at any shows before, but you seem cool. There’s an afterparty at my place if you wanna come.” 

Thomas hesitated. “I don’t know...I have class in the morning.” 

“Your call. But I'd really like it if you were there.” 

Mateo’s eyes drifted down to his lips for a moment, making the unspoken implication in his statement clear. Despite Thomas’s nervousness, he made no move to back away. “Yeah?” he breathed. 

“Yeah—come party with the rockstars.” He leaned in, breath hot against Thomas’s ear when he spoke. “I promise you’ll have a good time, honey.” 

“Okay. I’ll come,” Thomas agreed. He felt a sick thrill run through him as he wondered if Mateo was as passionate in...other ways...as he was when he performed. 

The singer grinned, fingers ghosting down Thomas’s neck. “Awesome. Let me pack up my equipment and then we’ll get going.”

taglist: @morning-star-whump  

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 15

15. (Jan 29-31) You're safe / Aftermath / Touch starved 

cw aftermath of torture, conditioned whumpee, physical abuse, captivity

Whumper gently lays them on the bed, mindful of Whumpee’s bruised ribs and sprained ankle. Or maybe it’s broken—they can’t tell. All they know is that everything hurts and their vision is still blurry. But Whumper shushes them and pets their hair, wiping away Whumpee’s tears as they sob. 

“It’s okay, it’s all over now,” they coo. Whumper is always so sweet after their little sessions—it's disarming. “You did so good for me, angel.” 

They feel empty and utterly drained—they always do after Whumper is done with them. And the worst part is that Whumpee always ends up craving their touch. They should hate Whumper. But after hours of being tortured and humiliated in whatever ways Whumper feels like, all they want is to be held. To be praised. They let their eyes slip shut as they reach out for their captor, tugging them closer. 

“Aw, honey,” Whumper murmurs, lying down beside them and gathering Whumpee in their arms. “Rest, okay? You did so well tonight. You can sleep now, and I’ll be right here.” 

Whumpee sniffles as their cries begin to peter out, exhaustion overtaking them. They nuzzle their head into Whumper’s chest and take comfort in the affection, too tired to wonder what horrors Whumper has planned for them tomorrow.  

For now, they can sleep. 

taglist: @morning-star-whump

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Bambi and the King Pt 3

Pt 1, Pt 2

cw fantasy whump, captivity, nonhuman whumpee, defiant whumpee, royalty, humiliation

“You’re awful.” His voice echoed, the only sound in the otherwise quiet dining room. 

A smirk tugged at Cassian’s lips and he took another bite of his food. August knelt beside his chair, pouting as he tried to maneuver eating with his hands still chained together. “Am I?” Cassian teased, running a hand through the nymph’s hair. “I thought you’d appreciate a good meal before we set out.” 

August jerked his head away from the king’s touch. “You’re trying to humiliate me.” 

Undeterred, Cassian let his hand slide down the back of August’s neck, resting there as a gentle threat. “If I were really trying to humiliate you,” he said, “we wouldn’t be alone right now. Just imagine what people would think if they saw my darling new pet...not every day someone gets their hands on a wood nymph.” 

“You’re lucky I don't smash this bowl over your head,” August growled. “I’m not your fucking pet.” 

Cassian grabbed onto his hair and tugged August’s head back, making him gasp. “Watch it—let's not forget who’s kneeling at my feet in chains right now. Just because I’m willing to play your little game doesn’t mean you have any power here, Bambi.” 

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, before August finally spoke. “Does this make you feel powerful?” he asked quietly. 

Cassian frowned, unsure how to respond. Of course he was powerful, he was the king for God’s sake. But then why did the question make his chest tighten?  

He let go of August and returned to eating, staring into the food as if it would give him answers. The distant sound of footsteps and servants’ chatter underscored the rest of their meal. Stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye, Cassian watched the nymph carefully hold his own bowl so that he could still use his spoon with the other hand. He was clever—clever and pretty, two things Cassian had always had a weakness for. This wasn’t going to end well. 

“Don't you want to know where we’re going?” August said after a while. 

“Of course I do,” Cassian replied. “What exactly am I getting myself into?” 

August set his now empty dish on the floor in front of him, turning his full attention to the king. “I need to get to the Black Stone Mountains.” 

“Why?” Cassian asked, brows drawing together in confusion. “There’s nothing up there but bandits and lowlifes.” 

“I know. There’s a group of hunters that hides out there and they have something I want.” 

“Sounds dangerous.” 

Those big brown eyes were fixed on him with a look that dared Cassian to argue. “I know.” 

“So, you risked cutting through my land rather than waste time going around Arlo Forest,” Cassian said curiously, “and now you want to go all the way up the mountains to tussle with hunters. Must be something very important they have.” 

August’s gaze faltered, and Cassian watched a mix of fear and anger flash in his eyes. “It is,” he said softly. “They took my sister.” 

taglist: @morning-star-whump, @alivenova, @tobiaslut, @leviiio, @torture-themed

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Chauffeur

Silence fell over the gloomy cellar once again that night. The air echoes with the ghost of past screams of anguish, yet only the boy’s gasping, wheezing breaths can be truly heard. They echo off each cold concrete wall and back at them, a cruel and constant reminder of what he has just been through — what waits for him still. The sound of his helplessness shackles him to the space as much as the chains leading to his wrists.

He has been let down again; the second time now. The night just doesn’t seem to ever end, his pain layering itself over and over his skin, weighing him down. His head rests on his torturer’s lap; a small mercy his mind barely registers between the frequent waves of agony suffocating it. He curls into himself, exhausted and miserable, only wanting the night to finally be over so he could pass out and have a chance to rest before more pain inevitably comes. The ground answers his prayers and whines with another small mercy; cooling some of the dark, swollen bruises having already formed from being inflicted hours ago. He knows the rest is very, very temporary, and that his master is itching to get back to hurting him, so he tries to make the most of the few minutes of break still left while he can.

They’ve been at it for a long time now. His master has this… this headspace he gets into, sometimes. Rarely, but when it happens, the change is obvious and immediate. His movements slow down a little, like a cat’s would right before pouncing. He then usually starts staring at him, becomes quiet; too quiet. Something in his eyes changes, he can’t even tell what it is, not so much as he can feel something inside him snap, or turn or click; whatever you want to call it. He has no idea what actually happens — if he gets an idea or just suddenly decides that right then and there is the time to take him down to the basement again — all he knows is that it’s the worst thing that could possibly happen, because it leads to immeasurable amounts of pain out of nowhere, so much worse than usual. It’s so, so much worse, because it always goes on for so much longer, and he gets hurt in so many ways, and he has nightmares about it for months; and he doesn’t even know how to make it better, or make it happen less; because it isn’t because of him.

There is no reason for his suffering at all. It’s not happening because he messed up, so his master decides he has to be hurt so he doesn’t do it again. It’s not so he doesn’t forget his place — the sheer presence of his master is enough to scare him out of breathing. It isn’t even just a way for him to let off some steam, because he’d have to get mad or at least annoyed for that to happen, which also doesn’t happen too often, but he makes it clear that that is the reason it’s happening when it does. There is no reason for his pain.

Well… There is, actually.

Keep reading

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

"Darling..."

They crouch in front of him, drawling his name like a melody, all sticky and sweet like honey. His back presses that much harder into the stone wall behind him.

"Do you want me to gouge your eyes out?"

The nonchalance of their delivery has his shaky lungs gasping for air.

"N-No..." — He doesn't, he doesn't, please don't.

"Then be a dear and close those pretty things." — Their hand lands over his eyes, gently guiding his eyelids closed. — "Don't let me catch you sneaking a peek, okay?"

They smile still; he can feel their teeth grinning through the void enveloping him. He nods against their hand cupping his cheek as they watch him intently, swallowing down every word that claws at his throat to escape him in case they decide letting him keep his tongue should become a luxury too.

They give a couple light pats, then stand, purring, — "Good boy."

<3

Masterist

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

“You work too much,” Caretaker said, placing a gentle hand on Whumpee’s shoulder.

“It’s okay.” Their eyes were tired but they smiled anyway. “I do it for you.”

“Well, right now, all I want you to do is rest. Think you can manage that?”

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpee: I wish someone loved me

Yandere!Whumper: :3

Whumpee: no not like that

Yandere!Whumper, already kidnapping them: picky picky picky

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 14

14. (Jan 27-28) Flinching / Breakdown / Sleep Deprivation 

cw past trauma, implied noncon/torture, hurt/comfort, aftermath of whump

“You’re slower than usual,” Hero teased when they pinned Villain to the wall. “Lost your edge after that little vacation you took?” 

Villain was breathing heavily. Their hands grasped at Hero’s, which were fisted in the front of their suit, but Villain lacked their typical strength. “Wasn’t a vacation, you jerk,” they huffed. “And I’m doing my best here.” 

Hero pulled one of their hands back, and their heart jumped when Villain flinched away from them; they’d never reacted like that before. The instinctual fear was clearly visible in their eyes.  

“Whoa, hey,” Hero said softly. “I was just gonna—your mask is slipping.” 

Villain looked down, frowning. “Sorry. I just...go ahead.” 

Hero raised their hands slowly and adjusted Villain’s mask, noting the sharp intake of breath when Hero’s fingers grazed their cheek. As they put it back in place, Hero could see a dark bruise hiding under the mask. The slightest bit of purple spread up their cheekbone. 

Villain was trembling when Hero stepped back. 

“Are you okay?” Hero asked. Logically, they knew they should take advantage of Villain’s weakness and bring them in. But they just couldn’t bring themself to be that cruel. 

“When I was gone this week,” Villain whispered, “I was...Supervillain took me hostage. I’ll spare you the details but...they did some shit to me I wouldn’t even do to my enemies.” 

Hero felt their heart ache at the admission and the pained expression in Villain’s eyes when they looked back up. “I’m sorry, I—I had no idea.” 

“Not your fault,” Villain said with a shrug. They tried to force a smile as well, but it didn’t quite work. “But it messed me up pretty good. I can’t sleep. I can’t move without remembering their hands on me.” 

A sick feeling curled in Hero’s stomach as they imagined what the normally collected Villain must have been through to have them on the verge of tears at the memory. They slowly reached out, giving Villain enough time to stop them—but when they didn’t, Hero pulled them into an embrace. “It’s over,” they muttered into Villain’s hair. “You're safe now.” 

Their words seemed to open the floodgates, and suddenly Villain broke down. Hero didn’t know what to do, so they just held their nemesis as they cried. The fact that they’d been in the middle of a fight passed through Hero’s mind, but it didn’t matter now. They were a hero—their job was to help people. Even if those people regularly made their life hell. 

“I’m sorry,” Villain choked out. “This is pathetic. And I—I deserved it.” 

“No one deserves to be hurt like that,” Hero said, rubbing their back in soothing circles. 

Villain tried to steady their breathing as they looked up at Hero, eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you. Just—give me a minute, and we can get back to it.” 

“What do you say we get a rain check,” Hero asked with a small smile, “and you let me buy you a coffee instead?” 

Villain sniffled and rolled their eyes. “As long as you promise to reschedule. Because I was looking forward to kicking your ass.” 

Hero laughed. “Okay, deal.” 

Although the coffee may not have truly fixed anything, it was a welcomed comfort. 

taglist: @morning-star-whump

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Can you please write a whumpee that was locked in their cell to starve for weeks and weeks when they were with whumper, and now they're safe at caretaker's house, but they refuse to eat because they think they don't deserve it

They wait for the middle of night where they're sure caretaker is sleeping and go to the kitchen to raid the fridge, desperately eating like they were never going to eat again

Caretaker walks on them mid act and comforts them, reassuring them that they will never starve again

Thanks in advance <3

aghh love this idea! pls enjoy <3

cw starvation, past trauma/abuse, whump recovery, hurt/comfort 

Caretaker slowly crept into the kitchen after they had been woken by the noise. They didn’t know what to expect, but when they stumbled in half asleep, rubbing at their bleary eyes, they certainly weren’t expecting to see Whumpee sitting on the floor, devouring a container of leftovers. 

“What’s going on?” they muttered. 

Whumpee looked up in shock. Empty Tupperware and snack bags were discarded on the floor next to them. “I—I’m sorry,” they gasped, eyes wide with horror. “Caretaker, I'm sorry, I just—I couldn’t...” 

Caretaker rushed to kneel beside them. “Hey, shh. It’s okay.” 

Whumpee set the food they were eating aside as they began to shake. “No, no, it’s not okay. You’ve been so kind to me a-and I’m so ungrateful. J-just eating your food without asking, I’m sorry.” 

“Whumpee, it’s alright. Breathe, okay?” Caretaker said softly, pulling Whumpee into their arms. They recalled the last couple days, and how Whumpee had refused to eat anything—it suddenly made sense. “Were...were you not eating because you didn’t think you were allowed to?” 

Whumpee sniffled, clinging to Caretaker’s shirt. “I don’t deserve it,” they whispered. “I don’t deserve any of the kindness you’ve shown me. B-but I just couldn’t—I was so hungry...” 

Caretaker’s fingers stroked their hair, gentle and comforting. “Of course you deserve it. You deserve to eat, Whumpee. I don’t care if anyone’s told you otherwise. From now on, you can eat whenever you want.” 

“Really?” 

Caretaker nodded. “Yes. Now come on—if you’re still hungry, I’d be happy to make you something. I think I have some brownie mix around here, as well.” 

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Bambi and the King Pt 2

Pt 1

cw fantasy whump, captivity, nonhuman whumpee, defiant whumpee, royalty, bargaining

Cassian was surprised to find the nymph sitting in a chair in the study where he was being kept. He waited patiently, fixing Cassian with an icy stare as he entered the room. 

“I won’t lie,” the king said, “I didn’t expect you to calm down so quickly. You seemed quite...vicious when we last spoke.” 

August held up his wrists, still locked in the gold chains, and glared at him pointedly. “Not much I can do with these on. Figured there might be a smarter way to go about this than my original plan.” 

“Which was?” 

“To kill you first, and then try to get these off,” August replied, flashing him a charming smile. “But I realized escaping your guards might prove difficult.” 

Cassian laughed, amused by how feisty the little creature was. “Smart choice, Bambi. It’d be a shame if they had to cut off that pretty head of yours.” 

August crossed one long leg over the other, looking unbothered. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we, Cassian? What do you want from me?” 

“That’s King Cassian, if you don’t mind,” he corrected, sauntering forward until he was standing right in front of the nymph’s chair. “Or you may call me Your Majesty, or Your Highness.”

“Do you expect me to grovel, too, Cassian?” August demanded. “You are not my king. If you recall, that’s the whole reason we’re here. So, let me ask you again—what do you want from me? Why did you not simply have me imprisoned?” 

“You want to know the truth?” Cassian asked. He was slightly unnerved by the nymph’s change in demeanor—surely, he had something up his sleeve. But Cassian had never been the type to play it safe. “I’m intrigued. It's not every day a pretty thing like you is brought to my court. And I'm still quite curious as to why you were trespassing in my kingdom.” 

Those big doe eyes stared up at him, seeming to consider how much August could dare to trust him. “If I tell you...would you consider helping me?” 

“What would I get out of it?” Cassian drawled, raising an eyebrow in question. 

August stood from the chair, delicate and graceful as a fawn. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you seem rather bored, Your Majesty. Like you’ve been itching for something to interrupt the monotony of your royal duties. Come on a little adventure with me, and pretend like you don’t have a silver spoon waiting for you back at the palace.” 

Cassian reached up and ran his fingers through soft auburn hair, ignoring the way August tensed at his touch. “And in exchange, I give you your freedom?” 

“Exactly.” 

A grin tugged at Cassian’s lips. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Bambi.” 

taglist: @morning-star-whump, @alivenova, @tobiaslut, @leviiio, @torture-themed 

tysm everyone for the positive response to pt 1! i'm really excited to continue this

pt 3

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 13

13. (Jan 25-26) Left to die / Barely Conscious / "I'm Fine" 

cw stabbing, left for dead, intimate whumper, implied captivity 

“You're so pretty like this,” they said, stroking Whumpee’s hair. “Scared. Desperate. Hopeless. It’s a good look on you.” 

Whumpee sputtered, coughing up a mouthful of blood when Whumper pulled the knife out of their stomach. “W-why...” Their fingers slipped from Whumper’s shirt as they sank to their knees. 

Whumper shrugged. “I’m tired of you. I think it’s time I found a new plaything.”  

“B-but you...” Whumpee struggled to get the words out, hands clutching the wound that was steadily gushing blood. 

Whumper gave them a look of mock surprise and cooed, “Oh, honey—did you really believe me when I said I loved you? You’re dumber than I thought.” 

Whumpee’s tear-filled eyes drifted down to their hands, but the sight of so much blood made them dizzy. Their eyes rolled back, and they swayed on their knees. 

“What a shame,” Whumper sighed as they collapsed to the ground. “You were certainly the most obedient pet I've had in a while. But I get bored so easily.” 

taglist: @morning-star-whump

((lmk if you want to be added!!))

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

i just think it's a special kind of humiliating to force whumpee to refer to themself as a good boy. "yes sir i've been a good boy" "i'll be a good boy, sir" it's ridiculous it's embarrassing it's horrible but what are you supposed to do when your captor refuses to take anything you say into account unless you use their terminology

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Bambi and the King

cw fantasy whump, captivity, nonhuman whumpee, defiant whumpee, royalty

Cassian choked on the wine he was drinking. “You what?” he demanded between coughs, handing the glass to one of his servants. 

“A wood nymph,” Valeria, the leader of the royal guard, repeated with a stoic expression. “We found him about fifty miles west, sneaking through Arlo Forest. The little thing was a pain to catch, but we got him.” 

Cassian was still reeling. A nymph venturing into his kingdom was almost unheard of—they knew better. And the fact that his guard had managed to capture the creature was equally stunning. As far as magical beings went, nymphs were up there with faeries in terms of flightiness and cunning. “You have him?” Cassian repeated in disbelief. 

Valeria nodded once. “Yes, your majesty. Would you like us to bring him in?” 

The man waved his hands in an aborted gesture. “Um—yes. Yes, of course.” 

Valeria strode away silently, returning to the throne room a few moments later followed by two other guards. They were each holding an arm of the struggling wood nymph, dragging him to stand before Cassian. He looked young—no older than twenty, maybe, but Cassian wasn’t sure what that meant for nymphs. Soft auburn hair framed his face and he was scowling poisonously.

“Well, isn’t this something,” Cassian drawled, gazing down at the creature. He was tall and thin—willowy, his mind supplied—with big brown eyes. Sweet, like a fawn. He could have almost looked innocent if Cassian didn’t know the strength nymphs were capable of through their magic. And if this one weren’t looking at him like he was a second away from scratching the king’s eyes out. 

“Get off me,” the nymph spat, yanking his arms away from the guards. 

Cassian waved them off. “It’s alright. Let him go.” 

The guards released him and they, along with Valeria, stood to the side. The nymph stayed where he was, standing before Cassian’s throne, but those doe eyes shot daggers at him. Delicate wrists were locked in front of him in gold chains—special cuffs that blocked magic. The only reason they still had the creature there, and he hadn’t already run off or upended the entire castle. 

“I must admit,” Cassian said, “I’m very curious why you were trespassing on my land, Bambi.” 

The nymph’s glare soured even more, if that was possible. “My name is August.” 

Cassian waved his hand dismissively. “Not what I asked. Don’t you know that magical beings are not allowed to enter my kingdom without express permission? Your kind usually isn’t foolish enough to disregard that rule.” 

“The second I get these cuffs off, I'll fucking kill you,” August sneered, tugging pointedly at the restraints. 

A strange sense of excitement filled Cassian—this was already more entertainment than he’d had in a long time. And if the little nymph at his feet happened to be quite pretty as well, that was just a plus. “Well,” Cassian sighed, “if you don’t wish to answer my questions, then I suppose I'll have to keep you around until you’re ready to talk. Valeria—take him away, please.” 

August startled, trying to jerk away from the guards as they returned to grab him. “Wait, I—” 

“Don’t worry. They’ll be gentle with you, Bambi,” the king promised sympathetically. He turned his gaze to Valeria, instructing, “Find somewhere nicer to keep him, please. I don’t want our guest catching a chill in the dungeon.” 

The nymph’s eyes widened, but the fight quickly returned as Cassian’s guards began to drag him away. “Get your fucking hands off me,” he snapped, before turning over his shoulder to shout at Cassian. “I will claw that stupid, smug look off your face! You can’t keep me here!” 

“I’ll come see you soon,” Cassian called after him. Oh, this was going to be fun. 

taglist: @morning-star-whump ((lmk if you want to be added!))

pt 2

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Can I request a continuation to the one where the prince taken as a spoiler of war was forced to kneel? I’ll dm the link but yeah… perhabs the whumper prince decides to keep the other as a trophy, a spoil of war, and that includes making him his boytoy in effort to humiliate him?

part 1

The protagonist learnt how truly wicked the prince could be in the following weeks. Obviously, the prince wouldn’t allow him to be at court but he also made sure the protagonist had the right amount of distance to it. Out of reach but almost touching it. The protagonist would hear gossip constantly but what was truly going on would never reach him.

It was cruel.

Though he was allowed to walk freely in the castle, he was never allowed to leave it.

He hadn’t expected to do so anyway. But he had also not expected to have this freedom. This kind freedom. This seductive freedom.

He wasn’t in chains. He got barely tortured. The circumstances made him almost believe he was alright, actually. It was easy to feel that way when the war was so preposterously far away. Here in the capital was no trace of it except for the higher prices on the market and he truly didn’t have to worry about those.

Remembering his friend however, promised other thoughts. He didn’t even know if they were alive. It felt wrong that he had survived. It felt wrong to live this lavishly.

“You will break that pretty head of yours if you think too hard,” the silky voice of the prince lured behind him. The protagonist didn’t turn around, he kept staring at the gardens, at the flowers he would never be able to reach.

He still tried to defy the prince at any given chance and even not giving him the satisfaction of turning around like a dog when he was speaking was part of the protagonist’s rebellious act. That never brought him closer to anything, he didn’t even have a plan for that matter but at least his pride wouldn’t dissolve in his fingers.

What he knew was that he wanted to find his friend. He wanted to get out of here. He wanted his kingdom back, he wanted revenge. What he needed was a plan.

But with no information — not coming from the court and definitely not coming from the prince — he was more helpless than ever.

Usually he would pray to his gods but he had the miserable feeling in his guts that they weren’t watching over him the way they used to.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his lower back.

“Your defiance is admirable.” The hand travelled lower. And the protagonist just snapped.

He turned around and slapped the prince’s hand away, his face burning. He hadn’t suggested any physical defiance ever since the prince had made him kneel.

Instead of anger, the prince’s face lit up with a smile.

“I see, you’re not feeling sinful today.” He stepped towards him and suddenly, his hand went through the protagonist’s thick hair. “Don’t worry about your gods, they have no power here.”

It could have been mistaken for affection easily, his fingernails caressing the protagonist’s scalp, scratching gentle circles into the flesh of the back of his head. It would have been easy to close his eyes and let the moment pass, let it consume him.

The littlest bit of affection in such an unlovable place was like water in the desert. He hated himself for liking it, needing it.

“I’ll take care of you. You don’t need your religion anymore,” the prince whispered and pushed the protagonist almost gently against the cold walls of the castle. He was close. He was way too close. “It’s alright to let go every once in a while.”

His other hand traced lines down the protagonist’s arm soothingly as the prince continued to purr in his ear.

“We can pretend that we’re not enemies, you know.”

“As if you’re interested in peace,” the protagonist answered. “You started this war. You have to live with the consequences. I will never respect you and I will never give up on those I had to leave behind. I will find my way home and you will burn in front of my eyes.”

The prince chuckled, pulling on the protagonist’s hair. Their chests touched, their bodies unbelievably close. The protagonist gasped for air as the prince pulled more on his hair, forcing pain across his scalp.

“You’re so naïve. You know what happens when you defy me. Do you like it? To be humiliated?” His fingernails dug into skin. “If so, I can arrange that. I can make you walk through the city completely bare, you know that. I can force you to your knees on the marketplace. Is that it? Is that what you want?”

“I want to go home.”

“You already are, pretty boy. I know you don’t want it to be true. But I see the way you smile when a stupid servant tells you a joke. I know how you devour the books in my private library. I hear how you speak kindly to the guards. I feel the way you are already settling. And I know you hate it.”

The protagonist laughed. It was nothing but a shielding reaction.

“You’re insane.”

“Be careful. If you get this comfortable, you might find yourself in my bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“That would be the result, yes. What I’m trying to say is: you’re already one of mine. You are mine. You have been for a while now and it happened oh-so-painfully, didn’t it? You got used to all of it way too quickly.”

The protagonist’s throat was dry but he spoke anyway. “Treating people with kindness isn’t treason. I like people, so what?”

“So what?” Somehow the grip on the protagonist’s hair got more brutal. “Treat your king the same fucking way. Smile at me. Laugh at my jokes. Love me.”

“I can’t. You’re unlovable. The people may like the façade you’re showing them but the real you is nothing but despicable.”

The prince drew back harshly, his eyes dancing over the protagonist’s face. His breathing was heavy and he seemed startled, seemed angry. He frowned, looking like a fallen angel and the protagonist hated, hated, hated his head for the comparison.

“That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you think of me. You will do as I say.”

“Good luck try—“

“This isn’t the right time to tell you your friend is going to be beheaded soon, is it?” the prince asked. His face was all false sympathy.

Above all, the prince’s words could be the cruelest thing about him.

part 3

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 12

12. (Jan 23-24) "You're awake" / Rescue / Unfair Fight 

cw physical whump/injury, captive whumpee, intimate whumper, suggestive, mention of starvation, emeto, beating, choking 

“You want me to do what?” 

“Hit me,” Whumper said with a smirk. “Go on, I know you want to.” 

Whumpee shivered, remembering the last time they had tried to fight back against Whumper. Their stomach turned at the memory of how easily Whumper had gotten them under control—beaten them senseless until Whumpee was a crying, shaking mess. And that had been back when Whumper had first taken them. When Whumpee still had their strength, mentally and physically. They couldn’t imagine how much worse they’d fair now in a fight against their captor. 

“What are you waiting for?” Whumper asked, closing the space between them. They looked down at Whumpee with amusement. “Ah...are you scared of what I’ll do to you, honey?” 

“Please, I don’t...” Whumpee tried to step away, but their back hit the wall behind them. “I can’t. I don’t want to.” 

Whumper nodded in mock sympathy. “I know you don’t.” They grabbed one of Whumpee’s wrists and held it up roughly. “Look how frail you’ve gotten, darling. I doubt you could even hit me very hard...” 

When they blinked, the tears began to spill from Whumpee’s eyes. “P-Please, don’t make me do this, you know I—” 

Whumper silenced them with a kiss, their other hand grabbing onto Whumpee’s hair and holding them in place as they squirmed. Pulling back, Whumper said, “I know. You’re scared of trying to take me in a fight. But don’t forget what happens when you disobey me. I promise, it will be much worse than a beating.” 

Whumpee’s breath caught on a sob, and Whumper took a step back. They towered over Whumpee, tall and muscular, with strong arms that could easily break them. Whumpee felt dizzy, hands trembling where they clenched into fists at their sides. 

“Come on,” Whumper said with a laugh. “Let’s see what you’ve got. If you impress me, maybe I'll try not to make you bleed.” 

Whumpee had to stand on their tiptoes in order to reach Whumper. They hissed in pain when their fist landed wrong, barely drawing a reaction from Whumper but leaving their knuckles sore. They didn’t know how to fight, they didn’t know how to throw a punch, but that didn’t matter. Whumper didn’t want a fair fight—they wanted to humiliate Whumpee, and they wanted an excuse to hurt them back. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Whumper taunted as their captive cradled their hand against their chest. “Aw, now don’t give me those pathetic eyes, honey. You look absolutely miserable.” 

“Please...” Whumpee tried again. But that word was as far as they got before Whumper’s fist connected with their face hard enough to knock them back into the wall. Whumpee groaned in pain, trying to stay on their feet. 

Whumper grabbed their wrists and pinned them above Whumpee’s head, able to hold both in one hand. “Have I not been feeding you enough? Seems like you’ve gotten thinner since the last time we did this. Weaker.” Their other hand curled around Whumpee’s throat, strong fingers cutting off their air with ease. “Yeah, look at that. You used to be able to struggle more.” 

They were right. Whumpee thrashed against their hold, but it didn’t do any good at all. Whumper had broken them down so much they didn’t have the strength to fight back. The hand on their neck pulled Whumpee forward before slamming them back into the wall. Whumpee’s vision blacked out when their head hit the concrete, and their lungs burned with each gasping breath as they crumpled to the ground. 

“Fucking pathetic.” Whumper said it almost fondly, kicking Whumpee in the stomach. “I won’t lie, I’ve missed this. You’ve been so good for me lately, I haven’t had much reason to hurt you. I forgot how fun it is.” 

Whumpee made a soft noise of pain, struggling to push themself up onto their hands and knees. They were aided by the hand tangling in their hair and yanking them up the rest of the way. “N-no more,” they begged, voice barely audible. “I can’t...” 

Whumper chuckled. “But I’m enjoying this so much, honey. Unless you can think of another way to entertain me?” 

Whumpee nodded desperately, which made their head spin. Fingers grasped at Whumper’s thighs because they couldn’t get the words out, chest tight and voice choked with sobs. 

“Hm,” Whumper hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t usually give it up that easy. Must really be feeling it, huh?” 

Another boot to the stomach made Whumpee double over, shoulders heaving as they puked. 

Whumper took a step back and watched them with amusement. “Poor little thing,” they cooed. Whumpee was shaking, arms curled around themself protectively. “I don’t think I'll ever get tired of you.” 

taglist: @morning-star-whump ((if you want to be added lmk!))

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

tw pet whump, conditioned whumpee, trauma, intimate whumper, mention of murder and guns

Whumper cupped Whumpee's cheek, smiling down at them softly as they leaned into it. "You used to be so flinchy," they said quietly, and Whumpee hummed. "I'm glad you changed."

"You changed me," they murmured. There was no edge to their voice, no resentment, or longing for the past self they'd left behind. If anything, they sounded grateful.

Whumper nodded. "For the better, definitely. I'm glad I stuck by you. There was a period when I wasn't sure all this work was going to pay off at all. I considered giving up, you know."

Whumpee hadn't felt such terror in months. Give up on them? Had they been that bad? And what would that have entailed? Their heart sank as the different possibilities raced through their mind: left outside, pawned off, given away... All of them horrible. But they weren't prepared for the actual end they could've met, had they kept up the defiance just a week or so longer.

"Every morning I looked at my gun and thought, 'Is this the day? Should I bring them out to the backyard and put a bullet through their head?' But I didn't, because I saw all the potential you had, and I just wasn't ready to let that go. And I'm so glad I didn't."

Whumpee pushed their face against Whumper's hand insistently, making soft sounds of distress. They had almost died. They had been so close to death, and they hadn't even known.

Whumper laughed. "It's okay, pet. That was a long time ago. You can behave for me now, can't you?"

The subtle threat wasn't lost on them. They were safe now; so long as they didn't step out of line.